ity of California
 

 
 "fM-
 
 THE 
 
 DRAMATIC WORKS 
 
 OF 
 
 WILLIAM SHAKSPEARE, 
 
 ACCURATELY PRINTED 
 
 FROM THE TEXT OF THE CORRECTED COPY 
 
 LEFT BY THE LATE 
 
 GEORGE STEEVENS, ESQ. 
 
 WITH A 
 
 GLOSSARY, AND NOTES, 
 
 AND A SKETCH OF 
 
 THE LIFE OF SHAKSPEARE 
 
 IN TWO VOLUMES. 
 VOL. I. 
 
 J, (Ernt. 
 
 PUBLISHED BY ANDRUS & JUDD, 
 LEE STREET.
 
 Stack 
 
 5015789 
 
 V.) 
 
 OF THE 
 
 LIFE OF SHAKSPEARE. 
 
 \\ ILLIAM SHAKSPEARE was born atStrat- the performance. But in whatever situation lie 
 ford-upon-Avon, in Warwickshire, on the 23d day ; was first employed at the theatre, he appears to 
 of April, 1564. His family was above the vulgar! have soon discovered those talents which afterward* 
 rank. His father, John Shakspeare, was a con- made him 
 
 siderable dealer in wool, and had been an officer ! 
 
 Pt , .. po. , r , TT 1-1 Th applause, deLght, the wonde.-, of our stase.' 1 
 
 of the corporation of Stratford. He was likewise! 
 
 a justice of the peace, and at one time a man of: Some distinction he probably first acquired at 
 considerable property. This last, however, ap-! an a ctor, but no character has been discovered 
 pc-ars to have been lost by some means, in the latter \ m which he appeared to more advantage than in 
 part of his life. His wife was the daughter and! taat of the Ghost in Hamlet : and the best critics 
 heiress of Robert Arden, of Wellington, in the^d inquirers into his life are of opinion, that he 
 county of Warwick, by whom he had a family of; was n t eminent as an actor. In tracing the chrc- 
 
 'nolo?y of his plays, it has been discovered, that 
 Romeo and Juliet, and Richard II. and III., were 
 printed in 1597, when he was thirty-three years 
 There is also some reason to think that he 
 
 ten children. 
 
 Our illustrious poet was the eldest son, and was 
 
 educated, probably, at the free-school of Stratford; ! 
 
 but from this he was soon removed, and placed inj commence d a dramatic writer in 1592, and Mr. 
 the office of some country attorney. The exact |Malone even places his first play, the First Part of 
 amount of his education has been long a subject Henry ^ I., in 1589. 
 
 of controversy. It is generally aareed, that he did 
 not enjoy what is usually termed a literary educa- 
 tion; but he certainly knew enough of Latin and 
 French to introduce scraps of both in his plays, !th at ne enjoyed the gracious favour of Queen Eli- 
 
 His plays were not only popular, but approved 
 by persons of the higher order, as we are certain 
 
 without blunder or impropriety. 
 When about eighteen years old, he married 
 
 zabetli, who was very fond of the stage ; the pa- 
 tronage of the Earl of Southampton, to whom he 
 dedicated some of his poems ; and of King James, 
 
 Anne Hathaway, who was eight years older than ) who wrote a very gracious letter to him with his 
 himself. His conduct soon after this marriage was 1 own hand, probably in return for the compliment 
 not very correct. Being detected with a gang ofj Shakspeare had paid to his majesty in the tragedy 
 
 deer-stealers, in robbing the park of Sir Thomas 
 Lucy, of Charlecote, near Stratford, he was obliged 
 to leave his family and business, and take shelter 
 in London. 
 
 He was Uventy-two years of age when he arrived 
 in London, and is said to have made his first ac- 
 quaintance in the play-house. Here his necessities 
 
 of Macbeth. It may be added, that his uncom- 
 mon merit, his candour, and good nature, are sup- 
 posed to have procured him the admiration and 
 acquaintance of every person distinguished for such 
 qualities. It is not difficult, indeed, to trace, that 
 Shakspeare was a man of humour, and a social 
 companion ; and probably excelled in that species 
 of minor wit, not ill adapted to conversation, of 
 
 obliged him to accept the office of call-boy, or (which it could have been wished he had been more 
 prompter's attendant ; who is appointed to give the sparing in his writings, 
 performers notice to be ready, as often as the busi- 
 
 ness of the play requires their appearance on the 
 
 How long he acted, has not been discovered ; but 
 
 stage. According to another account, far less he continued to write till the year 1614. During 
 probable, his first employment was to wait at the i his dramatic career, he acquired a property in the 
 door of the play-house, and hold the horses of those, theatre, which he must have disposed of when he 
 who had no servants, that they might be ready after 'retired, as no mention of it occurs in his will. The
 
 tr SKETCH OF THE LIFE OF SHAKSPEARE. 
 
 latter part of his life was spent in ease, retirement, (gentlemen of the neighbourhood ; and here he a 
 and the conversation of his friends. He had accu- thought to have written the play of Twelfth Night. 
 roulated considerable property, which Gildon (in He died on his birth-day, Tuesday, April 23, 161C, 
 his Letters and Essays) stated to amount to 300,'. i when he had exactly completed his fifty-second 
 per ann. a sum equal to 1000/. in our days. But Tear; and was buried on the north side of thechan- 
 Mr. Malone doubts whether all his property eel, iu the great church at Stratford, where a monu- 
 amounted to much more than 2001. per ann. wbich| ment is placed in the wall, on which he is repre- 
 yet was a considerable fortune in those times ; and' sented under an arch in a sittin g posture, a cushion 
 it is supposed, that he might have derived 200Z. an-| s P read before "^ with a P en " his ri i ht hand 
 nually from the theatre, while he continued to act. j aild his left rested on a scro11 of P a P er - The fo1 ' 
 
 { lowing Latin distich is engraved under the cushion : 
 
 Judicio Pylium, genio Socratem, arte Maronem, 
 
 He retired some years before his death to a 
 house in Stratford, of which it has been thought 
 important to give the history. It was built by Sir 
 Hugh Clopton, a younger brother of an ancient 
 family in that neighbourhood. Sir Hugh was 
 sheriff of London in the reign of Richard III. and 
 lord mayor in that of Henry VII. By his will he 
 bequeathed to his elder brother's son his manor of 
 Clopton, &c. and his house by the name of the 
 Great House in Stratford. A good part of the 
 estate was in possession of Edward Clopton, Esq. 
 and Sir Hugh Clopton, Knt. in 1733. The prin- 
 cipal estate had been sold out of the Clopton family 
 for above a century, at the time when Shakspeare 
 became the purchaser, who, having repaired and 
 modelled it to his own mind, changed the name to 
 New Place, which the mansion-house afterwards 
 erected, in the room of the poet's house, retained 
 for many years. The house and lands belonging 
 to it continued in the possession of Shakspeare's 
 descendants to the time of the Restoration, when 
 they were re-purchased by the Clopton family. 
 Here, in May, 1742, when Mr. Garrick, Mr. Mack- 
 lin, and Mr. Delane, visited Stratford, they were 
 hospitably entertained under Shakspeare's mul- 
 berry-tree, by Sir Hugh Clopton, who was a bar- 
 rister, was knighted by George I. and died in the 
 80th year of his age, 1751. His executor, about 
 the year 1752, sold New Place to the Rev. Mr. 
 Gastrel, a man of large fortune, who resided in it 
 but a few years, in consequence of a disagreement 
 with the inhabitants of Stratford. As he resided 
 part of the year at Litchfield, he thought he was 
 assessed too highly in the monthly rate towards the 
 maintenance of the poor, and beins opposed, he 
 peevishly declared, that that house should never 
 be assessed again ; and soon afterwards pulled it 
 down, sold the materials, and left the town. He 
 had some time before cut down Shakspeare's mul- 
 berry-tree, to save himself the trouble of showing 
 it to visitors. That Shakspeare planted this tree 
 appears to be sufficiently authenticated. Where 
 New Place stood is now a garden. 
 
 During Shakspeare's abode in this house, he 
 enjoyed the acquaintance and. friendship of the 
 
 Terra tegit, populus mceret, Olympus habet. 
 Perhaps we should read Sophoclem, instead of So- 
 cratem. Underneath are the following lines : 
 
 Stay, passenger, why dost tliou go so fast 7 
 Read, if thou canst, whom envious death has plac'd 
 Within this monument: Shakspeare, with whom 
 Quick nature died ; whose name doth deck the tomb 
 Far more than cost : since all that he hath writ 
 Leaves living art but page to serve his wit. 
 
 Obiit ano. Dm. IfjJG, 
 
 jt. 53, die 23 Apri. 
 
 We have not any account of the malady whicn, 
 at no very advanced age, closed the life and la- 
 aours of this unrivalled and incomparable genius. 
 The only notice we have of his person is from 
 Aubrey, who says, "He was a handsome well- 
 shaped man;" and adds, "verie good company, 
 and of a verie ready and pleasant and smooth wit.' 
 
 His family consisted of two daughters, and a son 
 named Hamnet, who died in 1596, in the twelfth 
 year of his age. Susannah, the eldest daughter, 
 and her father's favourite, was married to Dr. John 
 Hall, a phj'sician, who died Nov. 1635, aged 60. 
 Mrs. Hall died July 11, 1649, aged 66. They left 
 only one child, Elizabeth, born 1607-8, and married 
 April 22, 1626, to Thomas Nashe, esq. who died in 
 1647; and afterwards to Sir John Barnard, of 
 Abington in Northamptonshire, but died without 
 issue by either husband. Judith, Shakspeare's 
 youngest daughter, was married to Mr. Thomas 
 Quiney, and died Feb. 1661-2, in her 77th year. 
 By Mr. Quiney she had three sons, Shakspeare, 
 Richard, and Thomas, who all died unmarried. 
 The traditional story of Shakspeare having been 
 the father of Sir William Davenant, has been ge- 
 nerally discredited. 
 
 From these imperfect notices,* which are all 
 we have been able to collect from the labours of 
 his biographers and commentators, our [readers 
 will perceive that less is known of Shakspeare 
 than of almost any writer who has been consider- 
 
 * The first regular attempt at a life of Shnkspcare a pr 
 fixed to Mr. A. Chalmer'a variorum edition, published in 180a 
 of which, we have availed ourselves in the above Sketch
 
 SKETCH OF THE LIFE OF SHAKSPEARE. * 
 
 ed as an object of laudable curiosity. Nothing! history. The industry of his illustrators for the 
 could be more highly gratifying, than an account: last forty years, has been such as probably never 
 of the early studies of this wonderful man, the was surpassed in the annals of literary investiga- 
 progress of his pen, his moral and social qualities, ' tion ; yet so far are we from information of the 
 his friendships, his failings, and whatever else con- 'conclusive or satisfactory kind, that even the order 
 stitutes personal history. But on all these topics in which his plays are written rests principally on 
 his contemporaries, and his immediate successors,Jconjecture, and of some of the plays usually printed 
 have been equally silent; and if aught can hereaf-j among his works, it is not yet determined whether 
 ter be discovered, it must be by exploring sourcesihe wrote the whole, or any part. We are, ho\v- 
 which have hitherto escaped the anxious researches ! ever, indebted to the labours of his commentators, 
 of those who have devoted their whole lives, and j not only for much light thrown upon his obscuri- 
 their most vigorous talents, to revive his memory, ! ties, but for a text purified from the gross blunders 
 and illustrate his writings. I of preceding transcribers and editors; and it is 
 
 almost unnecessary to add, that the text of the fol- 
 
 It is equally unfortunate, thai, we know as littleflowing volumes is that of the last corrected edition 
 of the progress of his writings, as of his personal' of Johnson and Steevena.
 
 THE TEMPEST. 
 Act L Scene 2. 
 
 TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA. 
 
 Act V. Revile 4.
 
 TEMPEST. 
 
 PERSONS REPRESENTED. 
 
 Miranda, daughter to Prospero. 
 
 Alono, king qfNapltt. 
 
 Sebastian, Ms'brother. 
 
 Prospero, the rightful dnke cf Milan. (Ariel, an airy tpirit 
 
 Antonio, his brother, the v turning duke of Milan.\lris, ^ 
 
 Ferdinand, .von to the king ofjfajxes. jCeres, f 
 
 Gonzalo, on honest old cownttUor of Naples. 
 
 dria! ?' ? lords. 
 t rancisco, 5 
 
 Caliban, a savage and deformed slate, 
 Trinculo, a jester. 
 Stephano, a dninken butler. 
 
 Master of a ship, Boatswain, and Manners. 
 
 iJuno, > spirits. 
 'Nymphs, k 
 Reapers, j 
 
 Other spirits attending on Prospero. 
 
 Scene, the sea, with a ship ; a fie near da en unitt- 
 habited lAana. 
 
 ACT I. fate, to his hanging ! make the rope of his destiny 
 
 our cable, for our own doth little advantage ! If he 
 
 SC.VE J.Od a ship at sea. *J storm, wW/ijhe not born to be hanged, our case is miserable. 
 thunder and lightning. Enter a Ship-master [Exeunt, 
 
 and a Boatswain. Re-enter Boatswain. 
 
 Boats. Down with the top-mast ; yare ; lower, 
 lower; bring her to try with main course. [.I cry 
 irithin.] A plague upon this howling! they are 
 louder than the weather, or our office. 
 
 B 
 
 Re-enter Sebastian, Antonio, and Gonzalo- 
 
 OATSWAIN, 
 
 Jiocts. Here, master: what cheer? 
 Ma.tt. Good: speak to the mariners: fall to't 
 varely, 1 or we run ourselves aground : bestir, 
 
 Yet acrain ? what do you hen- ? Shall we give o'er, 
 Enter Mariner*. anc ^ drown ? Have you a mind to .sink '.' 
 
 | Seb. A pox o' your throat ! you bawling, blas- 
 
 Boals. Heigh, my hearts; cheerly, che-erly, myjphemous, uncharitable clog ! 
 hearts; yare, yare: take in the top-sail: tend to! Boats. Work you, then. 
 
 the master's whistle. Blow, till thou burst thy I .Int. Hang, cur, hang! you whoreson, insolent 
 wind, if room enough ! ; noise-maker, we are less afraid to be drowned than 
 
 thou art. 
 
 Alonso, Sebastian, Antonio, Ferdinand, 
 Gonzalo, and others. 
 
 Gon. I'll warrant him from drowning ; though 
 flic ship were no stronger than a nut-shell, and as 
 lleakv as an unstaunched' wench. 
 
 Boats. Lay her a-hold, a-hold ; set her two 
 courses ; off to sea again, lay her off. 
 
 Enter Mariners, tr/. 
 
 .I/on. Good boatswain, have a care. Where's 
 the master / Play the men. 
 
 Boats. I pray now, keep below. 
 
 int. Where is the master, boastwain ? 
 
 Boals. Do you not hear him? You mar our la- 
 bour! beep your cabins : you do assist the storm. Mar. All lost! to pi-dyers, to prayers ! all lost! 
 
 Gon. Nay, good, be patient. [Kxeunt. 
 
 Boats. When the sea is. Hence ! What care Boats. What, must our mouths be cold ? 
 these roarers for the name of king ? To cabin : Gem. The king and prince at prayers ! let us 
 silence : trouble us nt)t. assist them, 
 
 Gon. Good; yet remember whom thou hast! For our case is as theirs, 
 aboard. j Seb. I am out of patience. 
 
 Boat.?. None that I more love than myself. You .In/. We are merely 4 cheated of our lites by 
 arc a counsellor; if you can command these elc- _ drunkards. 
 
 jnents to silence, and work the peace of the present, 2 This wide-chapped rascal ; 'Would, thou might'st 
 n-e will not h ind a rope more ; use your authority. | lie drowning, 
 
 If rou cannot, give thanks you have lived so long, |Thd washing often tides ! 
 and make yourself ready in your cabin for the mis- i Gon. He'll be hanged yet ; 
 
 chance of the hour, if it so hap. Cheerly, trood 
 
 hearts. Out of our way, I say. 
 
 [Exit. 
 
 Gon. I have great comfort from this fellow : me- 
 tbinks he hath no drowning mark upon him ; his 
 complexion is perfect gallows. Stand fast, good 
 
 (1) Readily. 
 
 (2) Present instant. 
 
 Though every drop of water swear against it, 
 And gape at wid'st to jrl'it hinv 
 [Ji confused noise within.] Mercy on HS! W 
 split, we split ! Farewell, my ivife aud children !-- 
 Farewell, brother ! We split, we split, we split. 
 
 (3) Incontinent. (-1) Absolutely.
 
 8 
 
 TEMPEST. 
 
 Act I. 
 
 Ant. Let's all sink with the king. YExil. 
 
 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, anything: the wills above be done! but! 
 would fain die a dry death. [Exit. 
 
 SCENE II. The island: before the cell o/Pros- 
 pero. Enter Prospero and Miranda. 
 
 Mir. If by your art, my dearest father, you have 
 Put the wila waters in this roar, allay them : 
 The sky, it seems, would pour down stinking pitch, 
 But that the sea, mounting to the welkin's cheek, 
 Dashes the fire out. O, I have suffer'd 
 With those that I saw suffer ! a brave vessel, 
 Who had no doubt some noble creatures in her, 
 Dash'd all to pieces. O, the cry did knock 
 Against my very heart ! Poor souls ! they perish'd. 
 Had I been any god of power, I would 
 Have sunk the sea within the earth, or e'er 1 
 It should the good ship so have swallow'd, and 
 The freighting souls within her. 
 
 Pro. Be collected ; 
 
 No more amazement: tell your piteous heart, 
 There's no harm done. 
 
 Mira. O, wo the day ! 
 
 Pro. No harm. 
 
 I have done nothing but in care of thee. 
 (Of thee, my dear one! thee, my daughter!) who 
 Art ignorant of what thou art, nought knowing 
 Of whence I am ; nor that I am more better 
 Than Prospero, master of a full poor cell, 
 And thy no greater father. 
 
 Mira. More to know 
 
 Did never meddle with my thoughts. 
 
 Pro. 'Tis time 
 
 I should inform thee further. Lend thy hand, 
 And pluck my magic garment from me. So ; 
 
 [Lays down his mantle. 
 Lie there my art. Wipe thou thine eyes ; have 
 
 comfort. 
 
 The direful spectacle of the wreck, which touch'd 
 The very virtue of compassion in thee, 
 I have with such provision in mine art 
 So safely order'd, that there is no soul- 
 No, not so much perdition as a 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 further. 
 
 Jtftra. You have often 
 
 Begun to tell me what I am ; but stopp'd 
 And left me to a bootless inquisition ; 
 Concluding, Stay, not yet. 
 
 Pro. The hour's now come ; 
 
 The very minute bids thee ope thine ear ; 
 Obey, and be attentive. Canst thou remember 
 A time before we came unto this cell ? 
 I do not think thou canst ; for then thou wast not 
 Out 1 three years old. 
 
 Mira. Certainly, sir, I can. 
 
 Pro. By what ? by any other house, or person ? 
 Of any thing the image tell me, that 
 Hath kept with thy remembrance. 
 
 Mira. '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 ? 
 
 Pro. Thou hadst, and more, Miranda : but how 
 
 is it, 
 That this lives in thy mind ? What seest thou else 
 
 (1) Before. (2) Quite. (3) Abyss. 
 
 In the dark backward and abysm* of time ? 
 If thou remember' st aught, ere thou cam'st here, 
 How thou cam'st here, thou may'st. 
 
 Mira. But that I do not 
 
 Pro. Twelve years since, 
 Miranda, twelve years since, thy father was 
 The duke of Milan, and a prince of power. 
 
 Mira. Sir, are not you my father. 
 
 Pro. 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 
 A princess ; no worse issued. 
 
 Mira. O, the heavens ! 
 
 What foul play had we, that we came from thence ? 
 Or blessed was't we did? 
 
 P?-o. _ Both, both, my girl : 
 
 By foul play, as thou say'st, were we heav'd thence ; 
 But blessedly holp hither. 
 
 Mira. O, my heart bleeds 
 
 To think p' the teen 4 that I have "turn'd you to. 
 Which is from my remembrance! Please you further. 
 
 Pro. 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 signiories 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, be ing transported, 
 And wrap't in secret studies. Thy false uncle 
 Dost thou attend me ? 
 
 Mira. Sir, most heedfully. 
 
 Pro. Being once perfected how to grant suits, 
 How to deny them ; whom to advance, and whom 
 To trash 5 for over-topping ; new created 
 The creatures that were mine ; I say cr chang'd 
 
 them, 
 
 Or else new form'd them : having both the key 
 Of officer and office, set all hearts 
 To what tune pleas'd his ear ; that now he was 
 The ivy, which had my princely trunk, 
 And suck'd my verdure out on'U Thou attend'st 
 
 not: 
 I pray thee, mark me. 
 
 Mira. O good sir, I do. 
 
 Pro. I thus neglecting worldly ends, all dedicate 
 To closeness, and the bettering of my mind 
 With that, which, but by being so retir'd, 
 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 its contrary'as great 
 As my trust was ; which had, indeed, no limit, 
 A confidence sans* bound. He being thus lorded, 
 Not only with what my revenue-yielded. 
 But what my power might else exact, like one, 
 Who having, unto truth^ by telling of it, 
 Made such a sinner of his "memory, 
 To credit his own lie, he did believe 
 He was the duke ; out of the substitution, 
 And executing the outward face of royalty, 
 With all prerogative : Hence his ambition 
 Growing, Dost hear ? 
 
 Mira. Your talc, sir, would cure deafness. 
 
 Pro. To have no screen between this part he 
 
 play'd, 
 
 And him he play'd it for, he needs will be 
 Absolute Milan : me, poor man ! my library 
 
 (4) Sorrow. (5) Cut away. (6) Without.
 
 Scent II, 
 
 TEMPEST. 
 
 Was dukedom large enough ; of temporal royalties 
 He thinks me now incapable : confederates 
 (So dry 1 he was for sway) with 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. 
 
 Mira. O the heavens ! 
 
 Pro. Mark his condition, and the event ; then 
 
 tell me, 
 If this might be a brother. 
 
 Mira. I should sin 
 
 To think but nobly of my grandmother : 
 Good wombs have born bad sons. 
 
 Pro. Now the condition. 
 
 This king of Naples, being an enemy 
 To me inveterate, hearkens my brother's suit ; 
 Which was, that he in lieu 2 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. 
 
 Mira. Alack, for pity ! 
 
 I, not rememb'ring how I cried out then, 
 Will cry it o'er again ; it is a hint, 3 
 That wrings mine eyes. 
 
 Pro. Hear a little further, 
 
 And then I'll bring thee to the present business 
 Which now's upon us ; without the which, this story 
 Were most impertinent. 
 
 Mira. Wherefore did they not 
 
 That hour destroy us ? 
 
 Pro. Well demanded, wench ; 
 
 My tale provokes that question. Dear, they durst 
 
 not; 
 
 f 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 theyprepar'd 
 A rotten carcase of a boat, not rigcr'd. 
 Nor tackle, sail, nor mast ; the very rats 
 Instinctively had quit it : there they hoist us, 
 To cry to the sea that roar'd to us ; to sigh 
 To the winds, whose pity, siglu'ng back again, 
 Did us but loving wrong. 
 
 Mira. Alack ! what trouble 
 
 Was I then to you ! 
 
 Pro. ! a cherubim 
 
 Thou wast, that did preserve me ? Thou didst smile, 
 Infused with a fortitude from heaveji, 
 When I have deck'd* the sea with dro_ps full salt ; 
 Under my burden groan'd ; which rais'd in me 
 An undergoing stomach, 5 to bear up 
 Against what should ensue. 
 
 Mira. How came we ashore ? 
 
 Pro. By Providence divine. 
 Some food we had, and some fresh water, that 
 A noble Neapolitan, Gonzalo, 
 Out of his charity (who being then appointed 
 Master of this design,) did give us, with 
 Rich garments, linens, stuffs, and necessaries, 
 Which since have steaded much ; so, of his gentle- 
 ness, 
 Knowing I lov'd my books, he furnish'd me, 
 
 Thirsty. (2) Consideration. (3) Suggestion. 
 Sprinkled. (5) Stubborn resolution. 
 
 From my own library, with volumes that 
 I prize above my dukedom. 
 
 Mira. 'Would I might 
 
 But ever sec that man ! 
 
 Pro. Now I arise : 
 
 Sit still, and hear the last of our sea-sorrow. 
 Here in this island we arriv'd ; and here 
 Have I, thy school-master, made thee more profit 
 Than other princes can, that have more time 
 For vainer hours, and tutors not so careful. 
 
 Mira. Heavens thank you for't! And now, I 
 
 pray you ; sir ? 
 For still 'tis beating in my mind, 
 
 ,) your reason 
 i or raising this sea-storm ? 
 
 Pro. Know thus far forth.-' 
 
 By accident most strange, bountiful fortune, 
 Now my dear lady, hath mine enemies 
 Brought to this shore : and by my prescience 
 I find my zenith doth depend upon 
 A most auspicious star ; whose influence 
 If now I court not, but omit, my fortunes 
 Will ever after droop. Here cease more questions ; 
 Thou art inciin'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, iny Ariel ; come. 
 
 Enter Ariel. 
 
 3ri. All hail, great master! grave sir, hail! I 
 
 come 
 
 To answer thv 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. 
 
 Pro. Hast thou, spirit, 
 
 Perform'd to point 8 the tempest that I bade thee ? 
 
 Jlri. To every article. 
 
 I boarded the king's ship ; now on the beak, 
 Now in the waist, the deck, in even- cabin, 
 I flam'd amazement: sometimes, I'd divide, 
 And burn in many places ; on the top-mast, 
 The yards, and bowsprit, would I flame distinctly ; 
 Then meet, and join : Jove's lightnings, the pre- 
 cursors 
 
 0' the dreadful thunder-claps, more momentary 
 And siirht-outrunning were not : the fire, and cracks 
 Of sulphurous roaring, the most mighty Neptune 
 Seem'd tobesiege, and make his bold waves tremble; 
 Yea, his dread trident shake. 
 
 Pro. My brave spirit! 
 
 Who was so firm, so constant, that this coil' 
 Would not infect his reason ? 
 
 -h'i. 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 a-fire with me : the king's son, Ferdinand, 
 With hair upstarins (then like reeds, not hair,) 
 Was the first man that leap'd ; cried, Hell is empty, 
 lnd all the devils are here. 
 
 Pro. Why, that's my spirit ! 
 
 But was not this nigh shore ? 
 
 Iri. Close by, my master. 
 
 Pro. But are they, Ariel, safe? 
 
 iri. Not a hair perish'd ; 
 
 On their sustaining crarments not a blemish, 
 But fresher than before : and, as thou bad'st me, 
 In troops I have diapers' d them 'bout the isle : 
 The king's son have I landed by himself; 
 
 (6) The minutest article. (7) Bustle, tumult, 
 B
 
 10 
 
 TEMPEST. 
 
 Jlci f. 
 
 Whom I left cooling of the air with sighs, 
 In an odd angle of the isle, and sitting, 
 His arms in this sad knot. 
 
 Pro. Of the king's ship, 
 
 The mariners, say, how thou hast dispos'd, 
 And all the rest o' the fleet ? 
 
 *iri. Safely in harbour 
 
 Is the kind's ship ; in the deep nook, "where once 
 Thou call'dst me up at midnight to fetch dew 
 From the still- vcx'd Bermoothes, 1 there she's hid: 
 The mariners all under hatches stowed ; 
 Whom, with a charm join'd to their sufier'd la- 
 bour, 
 
 I have left asleep : and for the rest o 1 the fleet, 
 Which I dispersM. they all have met again ; 
 And are upon the Mediterranean Hole, 2 
 Bound sadly home for Naples ; 
 Supposing that they s=aw the king's sliip wreck'd, 
 And his great person perish. 
 
 Pro. Ari.-l, thy chanre 
 
 Exactly i perform'd ; but there's more work: 
 Whiif. i the time o' the day? 
 
 . Iri. P;> t the mid season. 
 
 Pro. At least two glasses : tlis time 'twixt six 
 
 and now, 
 Mast by us both be spent rno-;t preciously. 
 
 *lri. Is there more toil? Since thou'dost give 
 
 me pains, 
 
 L"t me remember th^e what thou hast promis'd, 
 Which is not yet perform'd ma. 
 
 P'o. How now ? moody ? 
 
 What is't thou canst demand? 
 
 . /(;. My liberty. 
 
 Pro. Before the time be out? no more." 
 
 2/'i. I pray thcc 
 
 Remember, I have done thee worthy service'; 
 Told thee no lies, made no mistakin?s, serv'd 
 Without or grudge or grumblings : tlioa didst pro- 
 mise 
 To bate me a full year. 
 
 Pro. Dost thou forget 
 
 Froai what a torment I did free thee ? 
 
 .!<!. No. 
 
 Pro. 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. 
 
 fn. I dp not, sir. 
 
 Pro. Thou liest, malignant thing ! Hast thou 
 
 forgot 
 
 The foul witch Sycorax, who, with, nre, and envy, 
 Was crown into "a hoop ? hast thou fororot her ? * 
 
 ,-lri. Iso, sir. 
 
 Pro. Thou hast : where was she born ? 
 
 speak ; tell me. 
 
 *-lri. Sir, in Argier. 3 
 
 Pro. O, was <--'!e so? I must, 
 
 Once in a month, recount what thou hast been. 
 Which thou forgr t'st. This damn'd witch, Sycorax, 
 For mischiefs manifold, and sorceries terrible 
 To enter human h",arine-, from Anricr, 
 Thou know'st, was banished; for one thin"- she 
 
 did, 
 They would not take her life. Is not this true ? 
 
 .'hi. Av, sir. 
 
 Pro. This bhip-cy'd hag was hither brought 
 
 with child. 
 
 And here was left by the sailor.--. Thou, mv slave, 
 As thou report'*! thyself, wast then her servant: 
 And, for thou wast a spirit too delicti N: 
 
 (1) Bermudas. (2) Wave. (3) Algiers. . | 
 
 To act her earthly and sibhorr'd commands, 
 Refusing her grand bests," she did confine thee, 
 By help of her more potent ministers, 
 Vnd in her most immitigable 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 mil!- wheels strike: then was this island 
 (Save for the son that she did litter here, 
 A freckled whelp, hay-born,) not honoured with 
 A human shape. 
 
 .?n. Yes ; Caliban, her son. 
 
 Pro. Dull thinjr, I suy 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 aii-Try benrs : it was a torment 
 To lay upon the damn'd, which Sycorax 
 Could not airain undo ; it was mine art, 
 When I arriv'd, and heard thee, that made gape 
 The pine, and let thee out. 
 
 .Ifi. I thank thee, master. 
 
 Pro. If thou more murmur's!;, I will rend an oak. 
 And pej thee in his knotty entrails, till 
 Thou hast howl'd away twelve, winters. 
 
 .?ri. Pardon, master : 
 
 I will he correspondent to command, 
 And do my spiriting gentlv. 
 
 Pro. Do so; and after two days 
 
 I will discharge thee. 
 
 . fir I. That's my noble master ! 
 
 What shall I do? cay what: what shall I do ? 
 
 Pro. Go make thyself like a nymph p' the sea, 
 Be subject to no siarht but mine ; invisible 
 'i'o every eye-ball else. Go, take this shape, 
 And hither come in't : hence, with diligence. 
 
 [Exit Ariel. 
 Awake, dear heart, awake ! thou hast slept well ; 
 
 JHra. The strangeness of your story put 
 Heaviness in me. 
 
 Pro. Shake it off; come on ; 
 
 We'll visit Caliban, my slate, who never 
 Yields us kind answer. 
 
 Mira. 'Tis a villain, sir, 
 
 I do not love to look en. 
 
 Pro. Bat, as 'tis, 
 
 We r-jnnot miss* him : he does make our fire, 
 Fetch in our wood ; and ."^nvs in offices 
 That profit us. What, ho ! slave ! Caliban ! 
 Thou earth, thou ! sneak. 
 
 Col. \V/ilhi'\] There's wood enough within. 
 
 Pro. Como forth, I say ; there's other business 
 
 for l 
 Corne forth, tricj tortoise ! when ? 
 
 Kecnier Ariel, like a water-nymph. 
 
 Fine apparition ! My quaint Ariel, 
 Hark in thine ear. 
 
 .'7rf. :\Iy lord, it shall be done. [Exit. 
 
 Pro. Thou poisonous slave, got by the devil 
 
 himself 
 Upon thy wicked dam, come forth ! 
 
 Enter Caliban. 
 
 Col. As wickrd dew as e'er mv mother brush'd 
 With raven'.s fl atli'.'r from unwholesome fen, 
 Drop on you both I a scfuth-west blow on ye, 
 
 Commands. 
 
 (5) Do without.
 
 Scene II. 
 
 TEMPEST. 
 
 11 
 
 And blister you all o'er ! 
 
 Pro. For {his, be sure, to-night thou shall have 
 
 cramps, 
 
 Side-stiches, that shall pen thy breath up ; urchins' 
 Shall, for that vast of night that they may work, 
 All exercise on thee : thou siialt be pincivd 
 As thick as honey-combs, each pinch more stinging 
 Tnan bees that inade them. 
 
 Col. I must eat my dinner. 
 
 This island's mine, by Sycorax, my mother, 
 Which thou tak'si Irom rue. When thou earnest first, 
 Thou strok'dst me, and mad'st much of nie ; 
 
 would'st give me 
 Water with berries in't ; and teach me how 
 
 To name the biarsrer light, and how tiie less, 
 Tii-it burn by day and night: and then I lov'i 
 
 1 thee, 
 
 And show'd thee all the qualities o' the isle, Weeping again the ^ 
 
 The fresh springs;, brine pits, barren place, and This music rrept by me" upon the waters ; 
 
 CaurPsied whin you hate, and kiss'd, 
 
 (The wild waves whist*) 
 Foot it featly here and there; 
 .iirf, swtet sprites, tht burden bear. 
 
 Hark, hark! 
 Bur. Bowgh, wowzh. [dispersedly. 
 
 The watch-dogs oark : 
 Bur. Bowgh, wow'gh. [dispersedly. 
 
 Hark, hark ! fhtar 
 The strain of strutting chanticlere, 
 Cry, Cock-a-doodle-doo. 
 
 Per. Where should this music be ? i' the air, o 
 
 the earth ? 
 
 It sounds no more : and sure, it waits upon 
 Some god of the island. Sitting on a bank, 
 my father's wreck, 
 
 fertile ; 
 
 I be. I that did so ! All ilm rlirrm* 
 Of Sycorax, tjads. beetles bats, li'/lit on you! 
 For I am all the. subjects that you have-, 
 Which lirst was mine own king- ; and here you sty me 
 In this hard rock, whiles you do keep from me 
 The rest of the island. 
 
 Pro. Thou most lying slave, 
 
 Whom stripes may move, not kindness ; I hare 
 
 us'd thc-f, 
 
 Filth as thou art, wkh human care ; and lod'/'d thee 
 In mine own cell, till tKou didst seek to violate 
 The. honour of my child. 
 
 Cdl. O ho, O ho ! 'would it had b?en done ! 
 Thou didst prevent me ; 1 had peopled else 
 This isle with Calibans. 
 
 Pro. Abhorred slave ; 
 
 Which any print of goodness will not U.kc, 
 Being capable of all ill ! I pitied thee, 
 
 Allaying both their furv, and my passion, 
 With its sweet air : thence I have follow'd it, 
 Or it hath drawn me rather : But 'tis gone. 
 No, it begins again. 
 
 Ariel sings. 
 
 Full fnlhom fire thy father lies ; 
 
 Of his bones are coral made ; 
 Thoie are pearls that were his eyes, 
 
 Nothing of him that doth fade, 
 But doth suffer a sea-clutnge 
 Into something rich and strange, 
 Gat-nymphs Kourly ring his knell: 
 Hark! now I hear them, ding-dong, bell. 
 
 [Burden, ding-dong. 
 
 Fer. The ditty does remember my drown'd 
 
 flithfr : 
 Tins is no mortal business, nor no sound 
 
 Took pains to make thee speak, taught thee each That the carlli OWF-S : 4 I hear it now above me. 
 
 hour i Pro. The fringed curtains of thine eye advance, 
 
 One thin or other : when thou didst not, savage, And say, what thou secst yond'. 
 Know thine own meaning, but would'st gabble like ."-lira. What is't ? a spirit ? 
 
 A thing most brutish, I endow'd thy purposes JLord, how it loo'-:? about ! Believe me, sir, 
 With words that made them known : But thv vile It carries a brave form : But 'tis a spirit. 
 
 Pro. No, wench ; it eats and sleeps, and hath 
 
 such senses 
 
 \ e we have, such : this gallant which thou seest 
 Was in the wreck ; and Init he's something stain'd 
 With grief, that's beauty's canker, thou might'st 
 
 call him 
 
 Col. You taught me language ; and my profit on't! A goodly person : hf hath lost his fellows, 
 Is, I know how to curse : the red plague rid 2 you, \ And strays about to find them. 
 For learning me your language ! j Jlira. ' T might call him 
 
 Pro. " Hag-seed, hence ! i A thing divine : for nothing natural 
 
 Fetch us in fuel ; and be quick, thou were best, I ever saw so noble. 
 
 To answer other business. Shrusr'st thou, malice? Pro. I* 2roe on, [.Q.nde. 
 
 If thou neglect's!, or dost tinwi'lindy As my foul prompts it: Spirit, fine spirit! I'll 
 
 What I command, I'll rack thee with old cramps ; ' frei.- " 
 
 Fill all thy bones with aches : make thee roar, j Within two days for this. 
 
 Fer. Mo--t sure, the goddess 
 
 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 confm'd into this rock, 
 Who hadst deserv'd more than a prison. 
 
 That beasts shall tremble at thy din. 
 
 Col. No, 'pray thee ! 
 I must obey : his" art u of such power, [dside. 
 It would control my dam's god, Setebos, 
 And make a vassal'of him. 
 
 P TO - So, slove : hence ! 
 
 [L'rJJ Caliban. 
 
 On whom these air? attend ! Vouchsafe my prayer 
 Mav know, if you remain upon this island ; 
 And that you will some good in.' -traction give, 
 How I may bear me here : my prime request, 
 Which I do last pronounce, is, O you wonder ' 
 
 If you be maid, or no ? 
 
 Rc-tnler A 
 
 No wonder, sir ; 
 
 Ferdinand following V:i;n. 
 ARIEL'S SONG. 
 
 Come unto these yellow sands, 
 And then take hands : 
 
 .\ffr<r. 
 .r and singing; But , certainly a maid. 
 
 Fer. My l-iignnge ? heavens 
 
 I ?.m the best of them that speak this speech, 
 Were I but where 'tis spoken. 
 
 Pro. How! the best? 
 
 What wert thou, if the king of Naples heard theo ? 
 
 (1) Fairies. 
 
 (2) Destroy. 
 
 (3) Still, silent. 
 
 (4) Owns.
 
 12 
 
 TEMPEST. 
 
 Per. 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, ne'er since at ebb, beheld 
 The king my father wreck'd. 
 
 Mira. Alack, for mercy ! 
 
 Per. Yes, faith, and all his lords; the duke of] My 
 
 Milan 
 And his brave son, being twain. 
 
 Pro. The duke of Milan, 
 
 And his more braver daughter, could control 1 thee, 
 If now it were fit to do 't. At the first sight 
 
 [Aside. 
 
 They have chang'd eves : Delicate Ariel, 
 I'll set thee free for this ! A word, good sir ; 
 I fear, you have done yourself some wrong : a word. 
 
 Mira. Why speaks my father so ungently ? This 
 Is the third man that ere I saw ; the first 
 That ere I sie;h'd for : pity move my father 
 To be inclin'd my way 
 
 .Fer. O, if a virgin, 
 
 And your affection not gone forth, I'll make you 
 The queen of Naples. 
 
 Pro. Soft, sir; one word more. 
 
 They are both in cither's powers : but this swift 
 
 business 
 
 I must uneasy make, lest too light winning [Jlside. 
 Make the prize light. One word more ; I charge 
 
 thee, 
 
 That thou attend me : thou dost here usurp 
 The name thou ow'st not : and hast put thyself 
 Upon this island, as a spy, to win it 
 From me, the lord on't. 
 
 Fer. No, as I am a man. 
 
 Mira. There's nothing ill can dwell in such a 
 
 temple : 
 
 If the ill spirit have so fair a house, 
 Good things will strive to dwell with 't. 
 
 Pro. Follow me. [To Ferd. 
 
 Speak not you for him ; he's a traitor. Come, 
 I'll manacle thy neck and feet together : 
 Sea-water shall thou drink, thy food shall be 
 The fresh-brook muscles, wither'd roots, and husks, 
 Wherein the acorn cradled. Follow. 
 
 Fer. No ; 
 
 I will resist such entertainment, till 
 Mine enemy has more power. [He draws. 
 
 Mira. O dear father, 
 
 Make not too rash a trial of him, for 
 He's gentle, and not fearful. 2 
 
 Pro. 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 : co_me from thy ward ; 3 
 For I can here disarm thee with this stick, 
 And make thy weapon drop. 
 
 Mira. Beseech you, father ! 
 
 Pro. Hence ; hang not on my garments. 
 
 Mira. Sir, have pity ; 
 
 I'll be his surety. 
 
 Pro. Silence : one word more 
 
 Shall make me chide thee, if not hate thee. What ! 
 An advocate for an impostor ? hush ! 
 Thou think'st, there are 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. 
 
 Mira. My affections 
 
 Are then most humble ; I have no ambition 
 To see a goodlier man. 
 
 (1) Confute. (2) Frightful. (3) Guard. 
 
 Pro. 
 
 Come on ; obey : 
 
 [To Ferd. 
 
 Thy nerves are in their infancy again, 
 And have no vigour in them. 
 
 Per. So they are : 
 
 My spirits, as in a dream, are all bound up. 
 My father's loss, the weakness which I feel, 
 The wreck of all my friends, or 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. 
 
 Pro. It works : Come on. 
 
 Thou hast done well, fine Ariel ! Follow me. 
 [To Ferd. and Mira. 
 Hark, what thou else shalt do me. [To Ariel. 
 
 Mira. Be of comfort, 
 
 My father's of a better nature, sir, 
 Than he appears by speech ; this is unwonted, 
 Which now came from him. 
 
 Pro. Thou shalt be as free 
 
 As mountain winds : but then exactly do 
 All points of my command. 
 
 Jin. To the syllable. 
 
 Pro. Come, follow : speak not for him. [Exeunt. 
 
 ACT II. 
 
 SCENE I. Another part of the island. Enter 
 Alonso, Sebastian, Antonio, Gonzalo, Adrian, 
 Francisco, and others. 
 
 Gon. 'Beseech you, sir, be merry : you hare 
 
 cause 
 
 (So have we all) of joy ; for our escape 
 Is much beyond our loss : our hint of wo 
 Is common"; every day, some sailor's wife, 
 The masters of some merchant, and the merchant, 
 Have just our theme of wo : 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. " 
 
 Man. Pr'vthee, peace. 
 
 Seb. He receives comfort like cold porridge. 
 
 Jlnt. The visitor will not give him o'er so. 
 
 Seb. Look, he's winding up the watch of his wit ; 
 by and bv it will strike. 
 
 Gen. Sir. 
 
 Seb. One: Tell. 
 
 Gon.When every grief is entertain'd,that's oflfer'd, 
 Comes to the entertainer 
 Seb. A dollar. 
 
 Gon. Dolour comes to him, indeed ; you have 
 spoken truer than you proposed. 
 
 Seb. You have taken it wiselier than I meant 
 you should. 
 
 Gon. Therefore, my lord, 
 
 Jlnt . Fie, what a spendthrift is he of his tongue ! 
 
 Jllon. I pr'ythee, spare. 
 
 Gon. Wellj I have done: but yet 
 
 Seb. He will be talking-. 
 
 Jlnt. Which of them, he, or Adrian, for a good 
 wager, first begins to crow ? 
 
 Seb. The old cock. 
 
 Jlnt. Thecockrel. 
 
 Seb. Done : the wager ? 
 
 Jlnt, A laughter. 
 
 Seb. A match. 
 
 Mr. Though this island seem to be desert,
 
 Scene II. 
 
 TEMPEST. 
 
 13 
 
 Seb. Ha, ha, ha ! I Hon. You cram these words into mine ears, 
 
 Ant. So, you've pay'd. against 
 
 <iJr. Uninhabitable, and almost inaccessible, The stomach of my sense: 'would I had never 
 Seb. Yet, Married my daughter there ! for, coming thence, 
 
 1 My son is lost ; and, in my rate, she too, 
 
 Mr. Yet 
 
 inf. He could not miss it. 
 
 idr. It must needs be of subtle, tender, and 
 delicate temperance. 1 
 
 .in!. Temperance was a delicate wench. 
 
 Seb. Ay, and a subtle ; as he most learnedly de- 
 livered. 
 
 .idr. The airbreathes upon us here most sweetly. 
 
 Seb. As if it had lungs, and rotten ones. 
 
 Jint. Or, as 'twere perfumed by a fen. 
 
 Gon. Here is every thing advantageous to life. 
 
 .i/if. True; save means to live. 
 
 Seb. Of that there's none, or little. 
 
 Gon. How lush 2 and lusty the grass looks ! how 
 green ! 
 
 .int. The ground, indeed, is tawny. 
 
 Se b. With an eye' of green in't. 
 
 .int. He misses not much. 
 
 Seb. No ; he doth but mistake the truth totally. 
 
 Gon. But the rarity of it is (which is, indeed, al- 
 most beyond credit) 
 
 Seb. As manv vouch'd rarities are. 
 
 Who is so far from Italy remov'd, 
 I ne'er again shall see her. O thou mine heir 
 Of Naples and of Milan, what strange fish 
 Hath made his meal on thee ! 
 
 Fran. Sir. he may live; 
 
 I saw him beat the surges under him, 
 And ride upon their backs ; he trod the water, 
 Whose enmity he flung aside, and breasted 
 The surge most swoln that met him : his bold 
 
 head 
 
 'Bore 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. 
 
 .2/o. No, no, he's gone. 
 
 Seb. Sir, you may thank yourself for this great 
 
 loss; 
 That would not bless our Europe with your daugh-. 
 
 ter. 
 But rather lose her to an African ; 
 
 Gon. That our garments, being, as they were, Where she, at least, is banbh'd from your eye, 
 drenched in the sea, hold ? notwithstanding-, their Who hath cause to wet the grief on't. 
 freshness^ and srlosses ; being rather new dy'd, than Hon. Pr'ytnee, peace, 
 
 stain'd with salt water. Seb. You were, kneel'd to, and i 
 
 Lit. If but one of his pockets could speak, would 1 otherwise 
 
 it not sav, He lies? By all of us ; and the fair soul herself 
 
 importun'd 
 
 Seb. Ay, or very falsely pocket up his report. 
 Go/i. Methinks, our garments are now as fresh 
 
 Weigh'd, between lothness and obedience, at 
 Which end n' the beam she'd bow. We have lost 
 
 as when we put them on first in Afric, at the mar- 
 riage of the king's fair daughter Claribel to the king I fear, for ever : Milan and Naples have 
 of Tunis. ' .More widows in them of this business' making, 
 
 Seb. 'Twas a sweet marriage, and we prosper! Than we bring men to comfort them: the fault's 
 
 well in our return. 
 
 Mr. Tuni-3 was never grac'd before with such a 
 paragon to their queen. 
 
 Gon. Not since widow Dido's time. 
 
 .Int. 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 ! 
 
 .idr. Widow Dido, said you? you mnkr- me 
 study of that: she was of Carthace', not of Tunis. 
 
 Gori. This Tunis, sir, was Carthage. 
 
 idr. Carthage? 
 
 Gon. I assure you, Carthage. 
 
 int. His word is more than the miraculous harp. 
 
 Seb. He hath rais'd the wall, and houses too. 
 
 .in/. 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. 
 
 Your own. 
 
 ll'M. So is the dearest of the loss. 
 
 GOJI. Mv 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. 
 
 >S'e6. Very well. 
 
 .'In!. And most chirurgeonly. 
 
 'Gon. It is foul weather in us all, good sir, 
 When you are cloudy. 
 
 Seb. Foul weather ? 
 
 .Int. Very foul. 
 
 Gon. Had I a plantation of this isle, my lord, 
 
 int. He'd sow it with nettle-seed. 
 
 Seb. Or docks, or mallows. 
 
 Gon. And were the king of it, What would I do ? 
 
 Seb. 'Seripe being drunk, for want of wine. 
 
 Gon. I' the commonwealth I would by contraries 
 I Execute all things : for no kind of traffic 
 
 ! ixr UT_J -A. ^ f* . i 
 
 int. And, sowing the kernels of it in the sea, ' ^ ould I admit ; no name of magistrate ; 
 
 bring forth more islands. 
 
 GOH. Av? 
 
 int. 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. 
 
 .inf. And the rarest that e'er came there. 
 
 Seb. 'Bate ? I beseech you, widow Dido. 
 
 #nf. O, widow Dido * av. widow Dido. 
 
 Gon. Is not, sir, my doublet as fresh as the first 
 day I wore it ? I mean, in a sort. 4 
 
 int. That sort was well fish'd for. 
 
 Con. When I woreitat your daughter's marriage? 
 
 Letters should not be known ; no use of service, 
 Of riches or of poverty ; no contracts, 
 
 ions; boundof land, tilth, vineyard, none. 
 No use of metal, corn, or wine, or oil: 
 No occupation ; all men idle, all ; 
 And wome_n too ; but innocent and pure : 
 No sovereignty : 
 
 Stb. And yet he would be king on't. 
 
 .inf. The latter end of his commonwealth for- 
 gets 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,* 
 
 (1) Temperature. (2) Rank. (3) Shade of colour, (4) Degree or quality, (5) The rack,
 
 u 
 
 TEMPEST. 
 
 II. 
 
 Would I not hare : but nature should bring forth, 
 Of its own kind, all Ibizon, 1 all abundance, 
 To feed my innocent people. 
 
 Seb. No marrying 'mong his subjects ? 
 
 Ant. None, man ; all idle ; whores and knaves. 
 
 Gon. I would with such perfection govern, sir, 
 
 Whiles thou art wa 
 
 aking. 
 
 Thou dost snore distinctly ; 
 There's meaning in thy sndres. 
 
 Ant. I am more serious than my custom : you 
 Must be so too, if heed me ; which to do, 
 Trebles thee o'er. 
 
 Well ; I am standing water. 
 Ant. I'll teach you how to flow. 
 Seb. Do so : to ebb 
 
 To excel the golden age 
 
 Seb. 'Save his majesty ! 
 
 Ant. Long live Gonzalo! 
 
 Gon. And, do you mark me, sir ? Hereditary sloth instructs me. 
 
 Alon. Pr'vthee, no more : "Thou dost talk no- . Mt. 
 
 thine to me If you but knew, how you the purpose cherish, 
 
 -'--' * ' Whiles thus you mock it! how, in stripping it, 
 
 it to minister occasion to these gentlemen, who are You more invest it! Ebbing men, indeed, 
 of such sensible and nimble lungs, ihat ihev always M<*t oUen do so near the bottom run, 
 use to laugh at nothing. B >:. thcir OKU lear > or 
 
 .int. 'Twas you we laugh'd at. 
 
 Gon. I do well believe vour highness ; and did v\ hiles tn 
 to minister occasion to these gentlemen, who are Y u more invest ' 
 such sensible and nimble lungs, ihat they always M<*J oUendo so near 
 e to laugh at nothing. B \ U } cir OKU lear ' or 
 
 .In/. 'Twas vou we laugh'd at. i _. &e6 - . 
 
 Gon. Who, 'in this kind of merrv foolinz, ami fac setting of thine eye and cheek, proclaim 
 tthing to vou : so you mav continue, and laugh A matter trom thee ; uud a birth, indeed, 
 
 Which throes thee much to yield. 
 
 Pr'vthee, say on : 
 
 nothing t 
 
 at nothing still. 
 
 Ant. What a blow was there eivcn : 
 
 Seb. An it had not fallen flat-long. 
 
 GOJI. You are gentlemen of brave mettle; you 
 would lift the moon out of her sphere, if she would 
 cor.'inue in it five weeks without changing. 
 
 Enter Ariel, invisible, playing solemn music. 
 
 Seb. We would so, and then go a bat-fowling. 
 
 Ant. Nay, good my lord, be not angry. 
 
 Gon. No, I warrant you : I will not 'adventure 
 my discretion so weakly. Will you laughme asleep, 
 for I am very heavy ? 
 
 Ant. Go sleep, and hear us. 
 
 [All sleep but Alon. Seb. and Ant. 
 
 - . What, all so soon asleep ! I wish mine eyes 
 
 Vi .-..u, with themselves, shut up my thoughts: I 
 
 find. 
 They are inclined to do so. 
 
 Seb. Please you, sir, 
 
 Do not omit the heavy offer of it : 
 It seldom visits sorrow ; when it doth, 
 It is a comforter. 
 
 Ant. We two, my lord, 
 
 Will guard your person, while you take your rest, 
 
 And watch your safety. 
 Alon. Thank vou : 
 
 wondrous heavv. 
 
 [Alonso sle.eps. Exit Ariel. 
 
 Seb. What a strange drowsiness possesses them ! 
 
 Ant. It is the quality o' the climate. 
 
 Seb. Whv 
 
 Doth it not then our eye-lids sink ? I find not 
 Myself dispos'd to sleep. 
 
 Thus, sir 
 
 \lthough this lord of weak remembrance, this 
 (Who shall be of as little memory, 
 When he is earth'd,) hath here almost persuaded 
 (For he's a spirit of persuasion only,) 
 The king, his son's alive ; 'tis as impossible 
 That he's undrown'd, as he that sleeps here swims 
 
 Se b. I have no hope 
 That he's undrown'd. 
 
 .Int. 0, out of that no hope, 
 
 What great hope have you ! no hope, that way, a 
 Another way so high a hope, that even 
 Ambition cannot pierce a wink beyond, 
 But doubts discovery there. Will" you grant, with 
 
 me, 
 That Ferdinand is drown'd ? 
 
 S'.b. He's gone. 
 
 Ant. Then, tell me, 
 
 Who's the nest heir of Naples ? 
 
 Seb. Claribel. 
 
 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, irom whom 
 \Ve were all sea-swallowed, though some cast again; 
 And, by that, destin'd to perform an act, 
 Whereof what's past is prologue ; what to come, 
 In vours and mv discharze. 
 
 .inf. 
 
 Nor I ; my spirits are nimble. 
 
 'Ti 
 
 Soi 
 
 There is some space. 
 
 They fell together all, as hv consent ; 
 
 They dropp'd, as by a thunder-stroke. WTiat might, 
 
 Worthy Sebastian? O, whatmight ? No more: 
 
 And yet methinks, I see it in thy" face, 
 
 What thou should'st be : the occasion speaks thee ; 
 
 and 
 
 My strong imagination sees a crown 
 Dropping upon thy head. 
 
 Seb. What, art thou waking ? 
 
 .int. Do you not hear me speak ? 
 
 Seb. 
 
 I do ; and, surely, 
 
 It is a sleepy language ; and thou speak'st 
 Out of thy s'leep : what is it thou didst say? 
 This is a strange repose, to be asleep 
 With eyes wide open ; standing, speaking, moving, 
 And yet so fast asleep. 
 
 Ant. Noble Sebastian, 
 
 Thou let'st thv fortune sleep die rather j wink'st 
 
 0) Plenty. 
 
 Seb. 
 
 Wh:tt stuff is this? Howsavvou? 
 
 is true, mv brother's daughter's queen of Tunis ; 
 i is she heir of Naples ; 'twixt which regions 
 
 Ant. 
 
 A space whose every cubit 
 
 Seems to cry out, How shall that ClariSel 
 Measure uft'back to Naples ? Keep in Tun*, 
 And let Sebastian wake ! Say, this were death 
 That novf hath seiz'd them ; why, they were no 
 
 worse 
 
 Than now they are : there be, that can rule Na- 
 ples, 
 
 As well as he that sleeps ; lord?, that can prate 
 As amply, and unnecessarily, 
 As this Gonzalo ; I myself could make 
 A chouffh 2 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 ? 
 
 St b, I remember, 
 
 A bird of the jack-daw kind,
 
 Scent II. 
 
 TEMPEST. 
 
 You did supplant your brother Prospero. : For my poor son. 
 
 in* True: i Con. Heavens keep him from these beasts ! 
 
 \nd look, how well my sarments sit upon me ; ;For he is, sure, i' the island. 
 Much feater than before : my brother's sen ants .3/on. , , Lead away. 
 
 Were then my fellows, now they are my men 
 Stb. But, for your conscience 
 
 Prospero my lord shall know what I hare 
 done : \*1side. 
 
 jfnt. Ay, sir ; 'where lies that ? if it were a kibe, So, king, go safely on to seek thy son. [Exeunt. 
 'Twould' put me to my slipper ; but I feel not , SCE jj- E u,_^ n olher part of the Island. Enter 
 This deity in my bosom: twenty consciences Caliban, with a burden of wood. J noise of 
 
 That stand 'twixt me and Milan, candied be they, t h, l]ld 'i teari ( 
 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 ; whom I, 
 With this obedient steel, three inches of it, 
 
 Cat. All the infections that the sun sucks up 
 From bogs, fens, flats, on Prosper fall, and make 
 hir. 
 
 Can lay to bed forever : whiles you, doing thus, iBy incl 
 
 To the perpetual wink for aye 1 might put i And yet I needs must curse. But they'll nor pinch, 
 
 This ancient morsel, this sir Prudence, who i Fright me with urchin shows, pitch me i' the mire, 
 
 Should not upbraid our course. For all the rest, "Nor lead me, like a tire-brand, in the dark, 
 
 They'll take suggestion, 2 as a cat laps milk ; ]Out of my way, unless he bid them ; but 
 
 They'll tell the"clock to any business that for every trifle are they set upon me : 
 
 We say bents the hour. j Sometimes like apes, that moe 3 and chatter at me, 
 Seb. Thy case, dear friend, j And after, bite me ; then like hedge-hogs, which 
 
 Draw together : 
 And when I rear my hand, do you the like, 
 To fall it on Gonzalo. 
 Seb. O, but one word. 
 
 Enter Trinculo. 
 Here comes a spirit of his ; and to torment me, 
 
 I They converse aoartJFor bringing wood in slowly ; I'll fall flat; 
 Perchance he will not mind me. 
 
 Jlri. 
 
 JIusic. Re-enttr Ariel, invisible. 
 My master through his art foresees the 
 danger 
 
 and sends me forth, 
 
 . That these, his friends, are in ; and se 
 (For else his project die.?.) to keep th 
 
 living. 
 
 [Sings in Gonzalo's ear. 
 
 While you her^ do snoring Ut t 
 Open-ey'd Conspiracy 
 
 His time doth take : 
 Jf of life you keep a care, 
 'fce off slumber, and beware : 
 
 iwake ! awake ! 
 
 Trin. Here's neither bush nor shrub, to bear off 
 any weather at all, and another storm brewing ; i 
 .hear it sing i' the wind : yoiid' same black cloud, 
 your huge one, looks like a foul bumbard 4 that 
 would shed his liquor. If it should thunder, as it 
 did before, I Imow not where to hide mv head : 
 yond' same cloud cannot choose but fall "by pail- 
 jfuls. What have we here? a man or a fish? 
 jDead or alive? A fish: he smells like a fish; a 
 very ancient and fish-like smell ; a kind of, not of 
 the newest, Poor John. A strange fish ! We- re I 
 in England now, (as once I was.) and had tiiis fish 
 [painted, not a holiday fool there but would five a 
 piece of silver: there would this monster make a 
 man ; .any strange beast there makes a man : when 
 I hey will not give a doit to relieve a lame besL'ar, 
 
 .int. Then let us both be sudden. 
 
 Gon. Now, good aricrels, preserve the kiivj! 
 
 [ They teak?, i they will lay out ten to see a dead Indian. 
 
 Jllon. Why, how nor,-, ho! awake! Why are youi like a man ! and his iins like arms! Warm, o' my 
 
 drawn? troth! I do now let loose my opinion, hold it no 
 
 Wherefore this ghastlv looking ? longer; this is no fish, but an islander, tiiat hath 
 
 Gon. What's the matter ?|htoly suffered by a thunderbolt. [Thunder.] Alas! 
 
 Seb. Whiles we stood here securing your repose,; the storm is come again : my bi-rt AVUV is to cretp 
 Even now, we hc-ard a hollow bi:r?t of bellowing ; under his gaberdine ; 4 there is no other shelter 
 Like bulls, or rather lions ; did it not wake you ? [hereabout : misery acquaints a man with strange 
 It struck mine ear mo^t terribly. Ibed-fbUows. I w'ill here shroud, till the dregs of 
 
 t'ilcn. I heard nothing. I the storm be past. 
 
 .'Jnf. O, 'twas a din to fri-rht a monster'?- 
 
 To make an earthquake ! sure it was the roar u ' 10 > Sln ^ n ^ ' bMle " /( ** 
 
 Of a whole herd of lie 
 
 .7/OH. Heard you this, Gonzalo 1 \ 
 
 Gon. Upon mine honour, sir, I heard a hum- 
 ming, 
 
 And that a strange one too, which did awnke me : 
 1 shak'd you, sir, and cry'd ; as mine- eyea 
 I saw their weapons drawn : there was a ; 
 That's verity : 'best stand upon our guard ; 
 Or that we quit this place : let's draw our weapons. 
 Alon. Lead off this ground ; and let's make fur- 
 ther search 
 
 (1) Ever. 
 
 (3) Make mouths, 
 
 Any hint. 
 
 Stc. I sludl no mere to tea, lo sea, 
 
 Here shall I die ashore ; 
 This is a very scurw tune to sin? at a man's funeral : 
 
 Well, here's my comfort. 
 
 [Drinks. 
 
 The master, the swabber, the lioaslsicain, and /, 
 Tin tritimc.i; and hismate, 
 oA, ftleg, and Marian. andMargery t 
 But nme of us car'd for Kate ; 
 For she had a tongiie with a tang, 
 Wmdd cry lo a sailor, Go, hang : 
 
 (4) A blackjack of leather, to hold beer, 
 
 (5) The frock of a peasant,
 
 TEMPEST. 
 
 Act U. 
 
 She lov'd not the savour of tar 'nor of pitch, 
 
 Yet a tailor might scratch her where'er she diditch: 
 
 Then to sea, boys, and let her go hang. 
 This is a scurry tune too : but here's my comfort. 
 
 [Drinks. 
 
 Col. Do not torment me : O ! 
 
 Ste. What's the matter? "Have we devils here? 
 Do you put tricks upon us with savages, and men of 
 Inde? 1 Ha! I have not 'scap'd drowning, to be 
 afeard now of your four legs ; for it hath been said, 
 As proper a man as ever went on four legs, cannot 
 make him give ground : and it shall be said so again, 
 while Stephano breathes at nostrils. 
 
 Cat. The spirit torments me : O ! 
 
 Ste. This is some monster of the isle, with four 
 legs who hath scot, as I take it, an ague : where 
 the devil should he learn our language? I will give 
 him some relief, if it be but for that : if I can reco- 
 ver him, and keep him tame, and get to Naples with 
 him, he's a present for any emperor that e,ver trod 
 on neat's leather. 
 
 Col. Do not torment me, pr'ythee ; 
 I'll bring my wood home faster. 
 
 Ste. He's in his fit now ; and does not talk after 
 the wisest. He shall taste of my bottle : if he have 
 never drunk wine afore, it will go near to remove 
 his fit : if I can recover him, and keep him tame ? I 
 will not take too much for him : he shall pay for him 
 that hath him, and that soundlv. 
 
 Col. Thou dost me yet but little hurt ; thou wilt 
 Anon, I know it by thy trembling: 
 PJow Prosper works uponthee. 
 
 Ste. Come on your ways; open your mouth; 
 here is that which will give language to you, cat : 
 open your mouth : this will shake your shaking, I 
 can tell you, and that soundly : you cannot tell 
 who's your friend : open your chaps again. 
 
 Trin. I should know that voice : it should be 
 but he is drowned ; and these are devils : O ! de- 
 fend me ! 
 
 Ste. Four legs, and two voices ; a most delicate 
 monster ! His forward voice now is to speak well 
 of his friend ; his backward voice is to utter foul 
 speeches, and to detract. If all the wine in my bot- 
 tle will recover him, I will help his ague : come, 
 
 Amen ! I will pour some in thy other mouth. 
 
 Trin. Stephano, 
 
 Ste. Doth thy other mouth call me? Mercy! 
 mercy ! this is a devil, ;ind no monster : I will lea've 
 him ; I have no long spoon. 
 
 Trin. Stephano ! if thou beest. Stephano, touch 
 me, and speak to me ; for I am Trinculo ; be not 
 afeard, thy good friend Trinculo. 
 
 Ste. If th'ou beest Trinculo, come forth ; I'll pull 
 thee by the lesser legs : if any be Trinculo's legs, 
 these are they. Thou art very Trinculo, indeed : 
 how cam'st thou to be the siege 2 of this moon-calf? 
 Can he vent Trinculos? 
 
 Trin. I took him to be kill'd with a thunder- 
 stroke : But art thou not drowned, Stephano? I 
 hope now, thou art not drowned. Is the storm 
 over-blown ! I hid me under the dead moon-calPs 
 
 Gaberdine, for fear of the storm : and art thou living, 
 tephano ? O Slephano, two Neapolitans 'scap'J ! 
 Ste. Pr'ythee, do not turn me about ; my stomach 
 is not constant. 
 
 Col. These be fine things, an if they be notsprites. 
 That's a brave god, and bears celestial liquor: 
 I will kneel to him. 
 
 Ste. How didst thou 'scape? How cam'st thou 
 hither? swear by this bottle, how thou cam'st hither. 
 
 (1) India, (2) Stool, (3) Sea-gulls. 
 
 t escap'd upon a butt of sack, which the sailors 
 heav'd over-board, by this bottle ! which I made of 
 the bark of a tree, with mine own hands, since I 
 was cast a-shore. 
 
 Col. I'll swear, upon that bottle, to be thy 
 True subject ; for the liquor is not earthly. 
 
 Ste. Here ; swear then how thou escap'dst. 
 
 Trin. Swam a-shore, man, like a duck ; I can 
 swim like a duck, I'll be sworn. 
 
 Ste. Here, kiss the book : though thou canst swim 
 like a duck, that art made like a goose. 
 
 Trin. O Stephano, hast any more of this? 
 
 Ste. The whole butt, man ; my cellar is in a rock 
 by the sea-side, where my wine is hid. How now, 
 moon-calf? How does tnine ague? 
 
 Cal. Hast thou not dropped from heaven? 
 
 Ste. Out o' the moon, I do assure thee : I was the 
 man in the moon, when time was. 
 
 Cal. I have seen thee in her, and I do adore thee ; 
 My mistress showed me thee, thy dog, and bush. 
 
 Ste. Come, swear to that ; kiss the book : I will 
 furnish it anon with new contents : swear. 
 
 Trin. By this good light, this is a very shallow 
 monster: I afeard of him ? a very weak monster : 
 The man i' the moon ? a most poor credulous 
 monster: well drawn, monster, in good sooth. 
 
 Cal. I'll show thee every fertile inch o' the island . 
 And kiss thy foot : I pr'ythee, be my god. 
 
 Trin. By this light, a most perfidious and drunken 
 monster ; when his god's asleep, he'11-rob his bottle. 
 
 Cal. I'll kiss thy foot : I'll swear myself thy sub- 
 ject. 
 
 Ste. Come on then ; down, and swear. 
 
 Trin. I shall laugh myself to death at this puppy- 
 headed monster : a most scurvy monster ! I could 
 find in my heart to beat him, 
 
 Ste. Come, kiss. 
 
 Tn'n. but that the poor monster's in drink: an 
 abominable monster ! 
 
 Cal. I'll show thee the best springs ; I'll pluck 
 
 thee berries ; 
 
 111 fish for thee, and get thee wood enough. 
 A plague upon the tyrant that I serve ! 
 I'll bear him no more sticks, but follow thee, 
 Thou wondrous man. 
 
 Trin. A most ridiculous monster; to make a 
 wonder of a poor drunkard. 
 
 Cal. I pr'ythee, let me bring thee where crabs 
 
 grow ; 
 
 And I, with my long nails, will dig thee pig-nuts ; 
 Show thee a jay's nest, and instruct thee how 
 To snare the nimble marmozet ; I'll bring thee 
 To clust'ring filberds, and sometimes I'll get thee 
 Young sea-mells 3 from the rock. Wilt thou go with 
 me? 
 
 Ste. I pr'ythee now, lead the way, without any 
 more talking. Trinculo, the king and all our com- 
 pany else being drowned, we will inherit here. 
 Here ; bear my bottle : Fellow Trinculo, we'll fill 
 him by and by again. 
 
 Cal. Farewell master ; farewell, farewell. 
 
 [Sing-* drunkenly. 
 
 Trin. A howling monster ; a drunken monster. 
 Cal. No more dams Pll make for fish ; 
 Nor fetch in firing 
 Jit requiring, 
 
 Nor scrape trenchering, nor wash dish ; 
 'Ban, 'Ban, Co Caliban, 
 Has anew master Get a new mm. 
 Freedom, hey-day ! hey-day, freedom : freedom, 
 
 hey-day, freedom ! 
 SU, brave monster ! lead the way, 1 [Exeunt.
 
 Setnt I, II. 
 
 TEMPEST. 
 
 17 
 
 ACT III. 
 
 SCENE L Before Prospero's cell. Enter Fer- 
 dinand, bearing a log. 
 
 Fer. There be some sports are painful; but 
 
 their labour 
 
 Delight in them sets off': some kinds of baseness 
 Are nobly undergone; and most poor matters 
 1'oint to rich ends. This my mean task would be 
 As heavy to me, as 'tis odious ; but 
 The mistress, which I serve, quickens what's dead, 
 And makes my labours pleasures : O, she is 
 Ten times more gentle than her father's crabbed ; 
 And he's compos'd of harshness. I must remove 
 Some thousands of these logs, and pile them up, 
 Upon a sore injunction : my sweet mistress 
 Uecps when she sees me work; and says, such 
 
 baseness 
 
 Had ne'er like executor. I forget : 
 But these sweet thoughts do even refresh my 
 
 labours ; 
 Most busy-less, when I do it. 
 
 n/r Miranda; and Prospero at a distance. 
 
 AftVii. Alas, now ! pray you, 
 
 Work not so hard : I would, the lightning had 
 Burnt up those logs, that you are enjoin'ci to pile ! 
 I'ray set it down, and rest you : when this burns, 
 'Twill weep for having wearied you. My father 
 Is hard at study ; pray now, rest yoursell : 
 He's safe for these three hours. 
 
 Fer. O most dear mistress, 
 
 The sun will set, before I shall discharge 
 What I must strive to do. 
 
 Mira. If you'll sit down, 
 
 I'll bear your logs the while : pray give me that ; 
 I'll carry it to the pile. 
 
 Fer. No, precious creature : 
 
 I had rather crack my sinews, break my back, 
 Than you should such dishonour undergo, 
 While I sit lazy by. 
 
 wiro. It would become me 
 
 As well as it does you : and I should do it 
 With much more ease ; for my good will is to it, 
 And yours against. 
 
 Pro. +. Poor worm ! thou art infe'cted ; 
 
 This visitation shows it. 
 
 JMlra. You look wearily. 
 
 Fer. No, noble mistress ; 'tis fresh morning with 
 
 me, 
 
 When you are by at night. I do beseech you 
 (Chiefly, that I might set it in my prayers,) 
 What is your name ? 
 
 Mira. Miranda : O my father, 
 
 I have broke your hest 1 to say so ! 
 
 Fer. Admir'd Miranda ! 
 
 Indeed, the top of admiration ; worth 
 What's dearest to the world. Full many a lady 
 I have ey'd with best regard ; and many a time 
 The harmony of their tongues hath into bondage 
 Brought my too diligent ear : for several virtues 
 Have I lik'd several women ; never any 
 With so full soul, but some defect in her 
 Did quarrel with the noblest grace she ow'd, s 
 And put it to the foil : but you, O you, 
 So perfect, and so peerless, are created 
 Of every creature's best. 
 
 Mira. I do not know 
 
 One of my sex ; no woman's face remember, 
 Save, from my glass, mine own ; nor have I seen 
 
 (I) Command. (2) Own'd. (S) Whatsoever. 
 
 More that I may call men, than you, good friend, 
 And my dear father : how features are abroad, 
 . am skill-less of; but by my modesty 
 (The jewel in my dower,) I would not wish 
 Any companion in the world but you; 
 Nor can imagination form a shape, 
 Besides yourself, to like of: but 1 prattle 
 Something too wildly, and my father's precept* 
 Therein forget. 
 
 Fer. I am, in my condition, 
 
 A prince, Miranda ; I do think, a king ; 
 (I would, not so !) and would no more endure 
 This wooden slavery, than I would suffer 
 The flesh-fly blow my mouth. Hear my soul speak ; 
 The very instant that I saw you, did 
 My heart fly to your service ; there resides, 
 To make me slave to it ; and, for your sake, 
 Am I this patient log-mau. 
 
 Jlira. Do you love me ? 
 
 Fer. heaven, O earth, bear witness to thm 
 
 sound, 
 
 And crown what I profess with kind event, 
 If I speak true ; if hollowly, invert 
 What best is boded me, to mischief! I, 
 Beyond all limit of what else 3 i' the world, 
 Do love, prize, honour )'ou. 
 
 Mlra, I am a fool, 
 
 To weep at what I am glad of. 
 
 Pro. Fair encounter 
 
 Of two most rare affections ! Heavens rain grace 
 On that which breeds between them ! 
 
 Fer. Wherefore weep you ? 
 
 JWira. At mine unworthiness, that dare not offer 
 What I desire to give ; and much less take, 
 What I shall die to want : But this is trifling ; 
 And all the more it seeks to hide itself, 
 The bigger bulk it shows. Hence, bashful cunning ' 
 And prompt me, plain and holy innocence ! 
 I am your wife, if you will marry me ; 
 If not, I'll die your maid : to be your fellow 
 You may deny me ; but I'll be your servant, 
 Whether you will or no. 
 
 Fer. My mistress, dearest, 
 
 And I thus humble ever. 
 
 Vira. My husband then ? 
 
 Fer. Ay, with a heart as willing 
 As bondage e'er of freedom : here's my hand. 
 
 JUira. And mine, with my heart in't : And now 
 
 farewell, 
 Till half an hour hence. 
 
 Fer. A thousand ! thousand ! 
 
 [Exeunt Fer. and Mir. 
 
 Pro. So glad of this as they, I cannot be, 
 Who are surpris'd with all ; but my rejoicing 
 At nothing can be more. I'll to my book: 
 For yet, ere supper time, must I perform 
 Much business appertaining. [Exit. 
 
 SCENE IL Another part of the Island. Enter 
 Stephano and Trinculo ; Caliban following with 
 
 a Lottie. 
 
 Ste. Tell not me ; when the butt is out, we will 
 drink water ; not a drop before : therefore bear up, 
 and board 'em : Servant-monster, drink to m. 
 
 Trin. Servant-monster? the folly of this island ! 
 They say. there's but five upon this isle: we are 
 three of them ; if the other two be brained like ui 
 the state totters. 
 
 Ste. Drink, servant-monster, when I bid tbc ; 
 thy eyes are almost set in thy head. 
 
 Tnn. Where should they be set else? he Were 
 a brave monster indeed, if they were *et ilk kief Ml, 
 
 C
 
 TEMPEST. 
 
 Jlel III. 
 
 Ste. Mr man-monster hath drowned his tongue I Trin. Why, what did I? Ididnothhi 
 
 . _ Trin. I did not gi , 
 
 Ste. We'll not run, monsieur monster. jand bearing too? A pox o' your bottle"! this can 
 
 Trin. Nor go neither: but you lie, like dogs ; sack and drinking do. A murrain on your mou- 
 
 . 
 and yet say nothing neither. 
 
 Ste. Moon-calf, speak once in thy life, if thou 
 b<'<-st a good moon-calf. 
 
 :^t a jiviuu muuii-caii. * A-.VF.F, ** 
 
 C'ai. How does thv honour? Let me lick thv stand further off. 
 
 1 * \ /~f_i u * i.: 
 
 ctiv-n. aim uiiimxii^ uv."^*a iiiui I am vi 
 
 ster, and the devil take your fingers ! 
 Cal. Ha, ha, ha ! 
 Ste. Now, forward with your tale. Pr'ythee, 
 
 ft 1 ?_ *! ~T rf * 
 
 shoe; 
 I'll not serve him, he is not valiant 
 
 Cal. Beat him enough : after a little time, 
 I'll beat him too. 
 I am Sle. Stand further. Come proceed. 
 
 Trin. Thou liest, most ignorant monster ; lam Sle. Stand further. Come proceed, 
 
 in case to justle a constable: Why, thoudeboshed 1 Cal. Why, as I told thee, 'tis a custom with him 
 fish thou, was there ever man a coward, that hathjP the afternoon to sleep : there thou may'st brain 
 trunk so much sack as I to-day ? Wilt thou tell a him, 
 
 lomtrous he, being but half a fish, and half a Having first sciz'd his books ; or with a log 
 lonste'r? Batter his skull, or paunch him with a stake, 
 
 Cal. Lo, how Jie mocks me ! wilt thou let him, Or cut his wcazand 4 with thy knife : Remember, 
 iv lord '! I First to possess his books ; lor without them 
 
 'Trin. Lord, quoth he! that a monster should! He's but a sot. as I am, nor hath not 
 ? such a natural ! One spirit to command : They all do hate him, 
 
 be such a natural ! 
 
 Cdl. Lo, lo, again ! bite him to death, I pr'vthee. 
 
 Ste. Trinculo, keep a good tongue in your head : 
 if you prove a mutineer, the next tree The poor 
 monster's my subject, and he shall not suffer indig- 
 nitv. 
 
 Cal. I thank my noble lord. Wilt thou be picas' d 
 To hearken once again the suit I made thee ? 
 
 Stf. Marry will I : kneel, and repeat it ; I will 
 stind, and so shall Trinculo. 
 
 Enter Ariel, invisible. 
 
 Cat. As I told thee 
 Before, I am subject to a tyrant; 
 A sorcerer, that by his cunning hath 
 Cheated me of this island. 
 
 Jin. Thou liest. 
 
 Cal. Thou^liest, thou jesting monkey, thou : 
 I would my valiajit master would destroy thee ; 
 I do not lie. 
 
 Ste. Trinculo, if you trouble him any more in his 
 tale, by this hand, I will supplant some of your 
 teeth. 
 
 Trin. Why, I said nothing. 
 
 Ste. Mum then, and no more. [To Caliban.] 
 Proceed. 
 
 Ca. I say, by sorcery he got this isle ; 
 From me he got it If thy greatness will 
 Revenge it on him for, I know, thou dar'st ; 
 But this thing dare not 
 
 Ste. That's most certain. 
 
 Cal. Thou shall be lord of it, and I'll serve thee. 
 
 Ste. How now shall this be compassed ? Canst 
 thou bring ine to the party ? 
 
 Cal. Yea, yea, my lord j'l'll yield him thee asleep, 
 Where thou may'st knock a nail into his head. 
 
 Jlri. Thou liestj thou canst not. 
 
 Cal. What a pied ninny's this! 2 Thou scurvy 
 
 patch ! 
 
 I do beseech thy greatness, give him blows, 
 And take his bottle from him : when that's gone, 
 He shall drink nought but brine ; for I'll not show 
 Where the quick freshes 3 are. [him 
 
 Ste. Trinculo, run into no further danger ; inter- 
 rupt the monster one word further, and, by this 
 
 , , 
 
 hand, I'll turn my mercy out of doors, and make a 
 lock-fish of thee. 
 
 m Debauched. 
 
 (2) Alluding to T riiKulo's party-coloured, dress. 
 
 As rootcdly as I : Burn but his "books : 
 
 He has brave utensils (for so he calls them,) 
 
 Which, when he has a house, he'll deck withal. 
 
 And, that most deeply to consider, is 
 
 The beauty of his daughter ; he himself 
 
 Calls her a nonpareil : I ne'er saw woman, 
 
 But only Sycorax my dam, and she ; 
 
 But she as far surpasseth Sycorax, 
 
 As greatest docs k: . 
 
 Ste. Is it fo brave a hss ? 
 
 Cal. Ay, lord ; she will become thy bed, I warrant, 
 And bring thee forth brave brood. 
 
 Ste. Monster, I will kill this man : his daughter 
 and I will be king and queen : (save our graces !) 
 and Trinculo and thyself fhall be viceroys' : Dost 
 thou like the plot, Trinculo 7 
 
 Trin. Excellent. 
 
 Sle. Give me thy hand ; I am sorry I beat thee ; 
 but, while thou livest, keep a good tongue in thy 
 head. 
 
 Cal. Within this half hour will he be asleep : 
 Wilt thou destroy him then ? 
 
 Sle. Ay, on mine honour. 
 
 .Iri. This will I tell my master. 
 
 Cal. Thou mak'st me merry : I am full of plea- 
 sure; 
 
 Let us be jocund : Will you troll the catch 
 You taught me but while-ere ? 
 
 Sic. At thy request, monster, I will do reason, 
 any reason: "Come on, Trinculo, let us ginf- 
 
 Flout 'nn, end skaid 'em; and skout 'em, and 
 
 flout 'em; 
 Thought is free. 
 
 Cal. That^s not the tune. 
 
 [Ariel plays the tune on a tabor and pipe. 
 
 Sle. What is this same ? 
 
 Trin. This is the tune of our catch, played by 
 the picture of No-body. 
 
 Ste. If thou beest a man. show thyself in thy 
 likeness ; if thou beest a devil, take't as thou list. 
 
 Trin. O, forgive me my si-is ! 
 
 Sle. He that dies, pays all debts: I defy thee : 
 Mercy upon us ! 
 
 Cal. Art thou afeard ? 
 
 Ste. No, monster, not I. 
 
 (3) Springs, 
 
 (4) Thrort,
 
 Jk*ne lit. 
 
 TEMPEST. 
 
 Col. Be not afc.ard ; the isle it full of noises, 
 So jnds, and sweet airs, that give delight, and hurt 
 
 not. 
 
 Sometimes a thousand twangling instruments 
 Will hum about mine cars ; 'and sometimes voices, 
 That, if I then had wak'd after long sleep, 
 Will make me sleep again : and then, in dreaming, 
 The clouds, methougnt, would open, and show 
 
 riches 
 
 Roady to drop upon me ; that, when I wak'd, 
 I cry'd to dream again. 
 
 Ste. This will prove a brave kingdom to me, 
 where I shall have my music for nothing. 
 
 Cal. When Prospero is destroyed. 
 
 Ste. That shall be by and by : I remember the 
 storv. 
 
 TYt'rt. The sound is going away : let's follow it, 
 and alter, do our work. 
 
 St:. Lead, monster ; we'll follow. I would, I 
 could see this laborer : he lays it on. 
 
 Trin. Wilt come ? I'll follow, Stephano. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 SCVE III. Another part of the Island. En- 
 ter Alonso, Sebastian, Antonio, Gonzalo, Adrian, 
 Francisco, and others. 
 
 Gon. By'r lakin, 1 1 can go no further, sir ; 
 My old bones ache: here^ amaze trod, indeed, 
 Through forth-rights, and meanders ! by your pa- 
 tience, 
 1 needs must rest me. 
 
 *'<> Old lord, I cannot blame thee, 
 
 W ho am myself attach'd with weariness, 
 To the dullfng of my spirits : sit down, and rest. 
 Kvcn here I will put off my hope, and keep it 
 No longer for my flatterer : he is drown' d, 
 Whom thus we stray to find and the sea mocks 
 Our frustrate search on land: Well, let him go. 
 
 Ant. I am right glad that he's so out of hope. 
 
 [Aside to Sebastian. 
 
 Do not, for one repulse, forego the purpose 
 That you resolv'd to effect. 
 
 Seb. The next advantage 
 
 Will we take thoroughly. 
 
 Jnt. Let it be to-night ; 
 
 For, now they are oppress'd with travel/they 
 Will not, nor cannot, use such vigilance, 
 As when they are fresh. 
 
 Seb. I say, to-night : no more. 
 
 Solemn and strange music; ttnd Prospero above, 
 invisible. Enter several strange Shapes, bring- 
 ing in a banqutt ; they dance about it with gen- 
 tit options of salutation ; and inviting the king, 
 &-c. to eat, they depart. 
 
 lien. What harmony is this ? my good friends, 
 hark! 
 
 (7on. Marvellous swe^t music ! 
 
 .iJon. Give us kind keepers, heavens ! What 
 were these ? 
 
 Seb. A living drollery: 4 Now I will believe, 
 That there are unicorn* ; that in Arabia 
 There is one tree, the phcr-nix' throne ; one phojnix 
 At this hour reigning there. 
 
 *4nf. I'll believe both : 
 
 And what does else want credit, come to me, 
 And I'll be sworn 'tis true : Travellers ne'er did lie, 
 Though fools at home condemn them. 
 
 Gon. If in Naples 
 
 1 should report this now, would they believe me ? 
 If I should say I saw such islanders 
 
 (1) Our lady. (2) Shew. (3) Certainly. 
 
 jr, certes, 5 these are people of the island,) 
 
 10, though theyare of monstrous shape, yet note, 
 
 eir manners are more gentle-kind, than of 
 
 ((For, 
 I Who, 
 
 Their manners are more gentle-kind, 
 Our human generation you shall find 
 Many, nay, almost any. 
 
 Pro. Honest lord, 
 
 Thou hast said well ; for some of you there present, 
 
 Are worse than devils. [Aside. 
 
 Alon. I cannot too much muae,* 
 
 Such shapes, such gesture, and such sound, ex- 
 
 pressing 
 
 (Although they want the use of tongue,) a kind 
 Of excellent dumb discourse. 
 Pro. Praise in departing. 
 
 [Aside. 
 
 Fran. They vanish'd strangely. 
 Seb. No matter, since 
 
 They have left their viands behind ; for we have 
 
 stomachs. 
 
 Will't please you taste of what is here ? 
 Alon. Not I. 
 
 Gon. Faith, Sir, you need not fear : When we 
 
 were boys, 
 
 Who would believe that there were mountaineer*, 
 Dew-lapp'd like bulls, whose throats had hanging 
 
 at them 
 
 Wallets of flesh? or that there were such men, 
 Whose heads stood in their breasts ? which now we 
 
 find, 
 
 Each putter-out on five for one, will bring us 
 Good warrant of. 
 
 Alon. I will stand to, and feed, 
 
 Although my last : no matter, since I feel 
 The best is past : Brother, my lord the duke, 
 Stand too, and do as we. 
 
 Thunder and lightning. Enter Ariel like a har- 
 py : claps his wings upon the table, and with a 
 quaint device, the oanquet vanishes. 
 
 Ari. You are three men of sin, whom destiny 
 ( That hath to instrument this lower world, 
 And what is in't,) the never-surfeited sea 
 Hath caused to belch up ; and on this island 
 Where man doth not inhabit ; you 'mongst men 
 Being most unfit to live. I have made you mad ; 
 [Seeing- Alon. Seb. S-c. draw their sicords. 
 And even with such like valour, men hang and 
 
 drown 
 
 Their proper selves. You fools ! I and my fellows 
 Are ministers of fate ; the elements 
 Of whom your swords are tempered, may as well 
 Wound the loud winds, or with bemock'd-at stabs 
 Kill the still-closing waters, as diminish 
 One dowle 1 that's in my plume ; my fellow-ministers 
 Are like invulnerable : if you could hurt, 
 Your swords are now too massy for your strengths. 
 And will not be uplifted : But, remember 
 (For that's mv business to you,) that you three 
 From Milan did supplant good ProspeVo : 
 Expos'd unto the sea, which hath requit it. 
 Him, and his innocent child ; for which foul deed 
 The powers, delaying, not forgetting-, have 
 Incens'd the seas and shores, yea, all the creatures. 
 Against your peace : Thee, of thy son, Alonso, 
 They have bereft: and do pronounce by me, 
 Lingering perdition (worse than any death 
 Can be at once) shall step by step attend 
 You, and your ways ; whose wrath to guard you 
 
 from 
 
 (Which here, in this most desolate isle, else falls 
 Upon your heads,) is nothing, but heart's sorrow. 
 
 (4) 
 
 (6) Down,
 
 TEMPEST. 
 
 ir 
 
 And i clear 1 life ensuing. 
 
 He vanishes in thunder: thtn, to soft music, enter 
 the Shapes again, and dance vilfi mops and 
 moioes, and carry out the table, 
 
 Pro. [Aside.] Bravely the figure of this harpy 
 
 hast thou 
 
 Ferform'd, my Ariel ; a grace it had, devouring : 
 Qf my instruction hast thou nothing 'bated, 
 In what thou hadst to say : so, with good life, 
 And observation strange, my meaner ministers 
 Their several kinds have done : my lush charms 
 
 work, 
 
 And these, mine enemies, are all knit up 
 In their distractions : they now are in my power ; 
 And in these fits I leave them, whilst I visit 
 Young Ferdinand (whom they suppose is drown'd,) 
 And his and my lov'd darling. 
 
 [Exit Prospero/rom aboi-e. 
 
 Con. I' the name ef something holy, sir, why 
 
 stand you 
 In this strange'stare ? 
 
 lion. 0, it is monstrous ! monstrous ! 
 
 Methought, the billows spoke, and told me of it; 
 The winds did sing it to me ; and the thunder, 
 That deep and dreadful orj^an-pipe, pronounc'd 
 The name of Prosper ; it did bass my trespass. 
 Therefore my son i' the ooze is bedded ; and 
 I'll seek him deeper than e'er plummet sounded, 
 And with him there lie mudded. [Exit. 
 
 Seb. But one fiend at a time, 
 
 I'll fight their legions o'er. 
 
 .int. I'll be thy second. 
 
 [Exeunt Sen. and Ant. 
 
 Gt. AH three of them are desperate ; their 
 
 great guilt, 
 
 Like poison given to work a great time after, 
 Now 'gins to bite the spirits : I do beseech you 
 That are of suppler joints, follow them swiftly, 
 And hinder them from what this ecstacy 2 
 May now provoke them to. 
 
 Mdr. Follow, I pray you. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 iCT IV. 
 
 SCEJfE /. BtforeProspero'sceW. n*erPros- 
 pero, Ferdinand, and Miranda. 
 
 Pro. If I have too austerely punish'd you, 
 Your compensation makes amends ; for I 
 Have given you here a thread of mine own life, 
 Or that for which I live ; whom once again 
 I tender to thy hand : all thy vexations'" 
 \Vere but my trials of thy love, and thou 
 Hast strangely stood the test : here, afore Heaven, 
 I ratify this my rich gift. O Ferdinand, 
 Do not smile at me, that I boast her off', 
 Far thou shall find she will outstrip all praise, 
 And make it halt behind her. 
 
 Fer. I do believe it, 
 
 Against an oracle. 
 
 Pro. Then, as my gift, and thine own acquisition 
 Worthily purchas'd, take my daughter : But 
 If thou dost break her virgin knot before 
 All sanctimonious ceremonies mav 
 With full and holy rite be ministered, 
 No sweet aspersion* shall the heavens let fall 
 To make this contract grow ; but barren hate, 
 
 Sour-ey'd disdain, and discord, shall bestrew 
 The union of your bed with weeds so loaiMy, 
 That you shall hate it both : therefore, take 
 As Hymen's lamps shall light you. 
 
 Fer. As I hope 
 
 For quiet days, fair issue, and long life, 
 With such love as 'tis now ; the murkiest den, 
 The most opportune place, the strongest suggestion 
 Our worser Genius can, snail never melt 
 Mine honour into lust; to take away 
 The edge of that day's celebration, 
 When fshall thinkj or Phoebus' steods are founder 1 *! 
 Or night kept cham'd below. 
 
 Pro. Fairly spoke : 
 
 Sit then, and talk with her, she is thine own.* 
 What, Ariel : my industrious servant Ariel ! 
 
 Enter ArieL 
 
 ,9ri. What would my potent master ? here I am. 
 
 Pro. Thou and thy meaner fellows your last 
 
 service 
 
 Did worthily perform ; and I must use you 
 In such another trick : go, bring the rabble, 
 O'er whom I give thee power, here, to this placet 
 Incite them to quick motion ; for I must 
 Bestow upon the eyes of this young couple 
 Some vanity of mine art ; it is my promise, 
 And they expect it from me. 
 
 1ri. Presently? 
 
 Pro. Ay. with a twink. 
 
 *'lri. Before you can say, Come, .and go, 
 And breathe twice ; and cry, so, so .' 
 Each one, tripping on his toe, 
 Will be here with mop and mowe : 
 Do you love me, master ? no. 
 
 Pro. Dearly, my delicate Ariel : Do not approach. 
 Till thou dost hear me call. 
 
 iri. Well I conceive. 
 
 [Exit. 
 
 Pro. Look, thou be true ; do not give dalliance 
 Too much the rein ; the strongest oaths are straw 
 To the lire i' the blood : be more abstemious, 
 Or else, good night, your vow ! 
 
 Fer. I warrant you, r ; 
 
 The white-cold virgin snow upon my heart 
 Abate* the ardour of my liver. 
 ,Pro. Well. 
 
 Now come, my Ariel ; bring a corollary, 4 
 Rather than want a spirit ; appear, ana pertly. 
 No tongue; all eyes ; be silent. [Sofl muiie. 
 
 A Masque. Enter Iris. 
 
 Iris. Ceres, most bounteous lady, thy rkh ka* 
 Of wheat, rye, barley, vetches, oats, and pease ; 
 Tjhy turfy mountains, where live nibbling sheep, 
 And flat meads thatcn'd with stover, them to keep ; 
 Thy banks with peonied and lilied brims, 
 Which spongy April at thy hest 4 betrims, 
 To make cold nymphs chaste crowns ; and thy 
 
 broom groves, 
 
 Whose shadow the dismissed bachelor loves, 
 Being lass-lorn ; thy pole-clipt vineyard ; 
 And thy sea-marge^ steril, and rocky-hard, 
 Where thou thyself dost air : The queen o" theky. 
 \Vhose watery arch, and messeneer, am I, 
 Bids thee leave these; and with her sovereign 
 
 grace, 
 
 Here on this grass-plot, in this very place, 
 To come and sport : her peacocks fly amain ; 
 Approach, rich Ceres, her to entertain. 
 
 (1) Fare, blameless, (i) Alicnatwn tf wind, (3) Sprinkling;. (4) Surplus, (|) Ceuwwtd,
 
 6e*t t. 
 
 ffcMPEST. 
 
 Enltr Ceres. 
 
 Ctr. Hail, many-eolour'd messenger, that ne'er 
 Dost di'<-j'jy trw. wife of Jupiter; 
 Who, witn thy xaflron wings, upon my flowers 
 Difljac*'. nor.ey-drops, refreshing showers : 
 And vritn each'cnd of thy blue bow dost crown 
 My bosKy' acres, and my unshrubb'd down, 
 
 'There's something else lo dft : hush, and be mutt, 
 Or else our spell is marr'd. 
 
 Iris. You nymplis, call'd Naiads, of the wand'ring 
 
 brooks, 
 
 With your sedg'd crowns, and ever harmless looks. 
 Leave your crisp channels, and on this green land 
 Answer your summons ; Juno docs command : 
 Come, temperate nymphs, and help lo celebrate 
 
 Rich scarf to my proud earth ; >\ hy hath thy queen A contract of true love ; be not too late. 
 Summon'd me hither, to this short-grass'd green ! j 
 
 UllllliU! I U 1I1TT lllkilCI j LU IJI10 0I1WI b-l U^O U ^ I 1 
 
 Iris. A contract of true love to celebrate ; 
 And some donation freely to estate 
 On the bless'd lovers. 
 
 Ctr. Tell me, heavenly bow, 
 
 If Venus, or her son, as thou dost know ? 
 Do now attend the queen I since they did plot 
 The means, that dusky Dis 2 my daughter got, 
 Her and her blind boy's scandal'd company 
 I have forsworn. 
 
 Iris. Of her society 
 
 Be not afraid : I met her deity 
 Cutting the clouds towards Paphos ; and her son i 
 Dove-drawn with her: here thought they to have 
 
 done 
 
 Some wanton charm upon this man and maid. 
 Whose TOW* are, that no bed-rite shall be paid 
 Till Hvmen's torch be lighted : but in vain ; 
 Mars' hot minion is return'd again : 
 Her waspish-headed son has broke his arrows, 
 Swears he will shoot no more, but play with spar- 
 rows, 
 And be a boy right out. 
 
 Cer. Highest queen of state, 
 
 Great Juno cornea ; I know her by her gait. 
 
 Enter Juno. 
 Juno. How does my bounteous sister ? Go with 
 
 me 
 
 To bless this twain, that they may prosperous be, 
 And honour'd in their issue. 
 
 SONG. 
 
 Juno. Hancur, riches, marriage-blessing, 
 Long cmtinuance, and increasing, 
 Hourly joys be still upon you ! 
 Juno sings her blessings on you. 
 
 Cer. Earth's increase, andfoizon 3 plenty ; 
 Barns, and gamers never empty ; " 
 Yines, with clustering bunches prow ing ; 
 Plants, with goodly burden boicing ; 
 Spring come to you, at the farthest, 
 In the rery end of harvest ; 
 Scarcity, and want, shall shun you ; 
 Ceres' Messing so is on you. 
 
 Fer. This is a most majestic vision, and 
 Harmonious charmingly : May I be bold 
 To think these spirits ? 
 
 Pro. Spirits, which by mine art! 
 
 I have from their confines call'd to enact 
 Mv present fancies. 
 
 Ftr. Let me live here ever ; 
 
 So rare a wonder'd* father, and a wife, 
 Make this place Paradise. 
 
 [Juno and Ceres whisper, and send Iris on 
 employment. 
 
 fro. Sweet now, silence : 
 
 Juno and Ceres whisper seriously ; 
 
 Enter certain Nymphs. 
 
 j You sun-burn'd sicklemen, of August weary, 
 iCome hither from the furrow, ana be merry; 
 Make holy-day : your rye-straw hats put on, 
 : And these fresh nymphs encounter every one 
 In country footing. 
 
 Enter certain Reapers, properly habited ; they jam 
 with the Nymphs in a graceful dance; towards 
 the end whereof Prospero starts suddenly, mid 
 speaks; after which, to a strange, hollow, end 
 confused noise, they heavily vanish. 
 
 Pro. [Jside.] I had forgot that foul conspiracy 
 Of the beast Caliban, and his confederates, 
 Against my life ; the minute of their plot 
 Is almost come. [To the Spirits.] AVell done ; 
 avoid ; no more. 
 
 Fer. This is most strange: your father's in some 
 
 passion 
 That works him strongly. 
 
 .Vtrn. Never till this day, 
 
 Saw I him touch" d with anger so distemper'd. 
 
 Pi~o. You do look, my son, in a mov'd sort, 
 As if you were dismay'd: be cheerful, sir: 
 Our revels now are ended : these our actors, 
 As I foretold you, were all spirits, and 
 Are melted into air, into thin air : 
 And, like the baseless fabric of this vision, 
 (The cloud-capp'd towers, the gorgeous palaces, 
 The solemn temples, the great globe itself, 
 Yea, all which it inherit, shall dissolve ; 
 And, like this insubstantial pageant faded, 5 
 Leave not a rack 6 behind : We are such stuff 
 As dreams are made of, and our little life 
 Is rounded with a sleep. Sir, I am vex'd ; 
 Bear with my weakness ; my old_ brain is troubled. 
 Be not disturb'd with my infirmity : 
 If you be pleas'd, retire into my cell, 
 And there repose ; a turn or two I'll walk, 
 To still my beating mind. 
 
 Fer. Jtftro. We wish your peace. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 Pro. Com with a thought: I thank you : 
 Ariel, come. 
 
 Enter Ariel. 
 
 .fri. Thy thoughts I cleave to; What's thy 
 
 ple'asure ? 
 
 Pro.' Spirit, 
 
 We must prepare to meet with Caliban. 
 .?ri. Ay, my commander: when 1 presented 
 
 Ceres, 
 
 I thought to have told thee of it ; but I fear'd 
 Lest I might anger thee. 
 Pro. Say again, where didst thou kave thea 
 
 varlets? 
 
 iri. I told you, sir, they were red-hot with 
 drinking 1 
 
 Woody. (2) Pluto. (3) Abundance. (6) A body of clouds in motion ; but it is mot 
 4) Able to produce such wonders. (5) Vanished. ! probable that th author wrote tro**.
 
 TEMPEST. 
 
 JdF. 
 
 So full of valour, that they smote the air ' 
 For breathing in their faces ; beat the ground i 
 For kissing of their feet: yet always bending 
 Towards their project : Then I beat my tabor, 
 At which, like unback'd colts, they p'rick'd their 
 
 ears, 
 
 Advanc'd their eye-lids, lifted up their noses, 
 As they smelt music ; So I charm'd their ears, 
 That, calf-like, they my lowing follow'd, through 
 Tooth'd briers, sharp furzes, pricking goss, and 
 
 thorn*, 
 
 Which entered their frail shins : at last I left them 
 I' the filthy mantled pool beyond your cell, 
 There dancing up to the chins, that the foul lake 
 O'er-stunk their iieet. 
 
 Pro. This was well done, my bird : 
 
 Thy shape invisible retain thou still : 
 The trumpery in my house, go, bring it hither, 
 For stale, 1 to" catch' these thieves. 
 
 .iri. I go, I go. [Exit. 
 
 Pro. A devil, a born devil, on whose nature 
 Nurture" can never stick : on whom my pains, 
 Humanely taken, all, all lost, quite lost ; 
 And as, with age, his body uglier grows. 
 So hie mind cankers : I will plague them all, 
 
 Ke-ente r Ariel loaden Kith glistering apparel, 4 
 Even to roaring : Come, hang them on this line. 
 Prospero and Ariel remain invisible. Enter Cali- 
 ban, Stephano, and Trinculo ; all wet. 
 
 Cal. Pray, you, tread softly, that the blind mole 
 
 may not 
 Hear a foot fall : we no\y are near his cell. 
 
 Ste. Monster, your fairy, which, you say, is a 
 harmless fairy, has done little better tflan played the 
 Jack 3 with us. 
 
 Trwi. Monster f I do smell all horse-piss ; at 
 rchich my nose is in great indignation. 
 
 Ste. So is mine. Do you hear, monster ? If ] 
 should take a displeasure against you ; look you, 
 
 Trin. Thou wert but a lost monster. 
 
 Cal. Good my lord, give me thy favour still : 
 Be patient, for the prize I'll bring thee to 
 Shall hood-wink this mischance : therefore, speak 
 
 softly, 
 All's hush'd as midnight yet. 
 
 Trin. Ay, but to lose our bottles in the pool, 
 
 Ste. There is not only disgrace and dishonour in 
 that, monster, but an infinite loss. 
 
 Trin. That's more to me than my wetting : yet 
 this is your harmless fairy, monster. 
 
 Ste. I will fetch off my bottle, though I be o'er 
 ears for my labour. 
 
 Cat. Pr'ythec, my king, be quiet : Seest thou here, 
 This is the mouth o' the cell : no noise, and enter : 
 Do that good mischief, which may make this island 
 Thine own for ever, and I, thy Caliban, 
 For aye* thy foot-licker. 
 
 Ste'. Give me thy hand : I do begin to have bloody 
 thoughts. 
 
 Trin, O king Stephano! O peer! O worthy 
 Stephano ! look, what a wardrobe here is for thee ! 
 
 Cal. Let it alone, thou fool ; it is but trash. 
 
 Trin. O, ho, monster ; we know what belongs to 
 a frippery : * king Stephano ! 
 
 Ste. Put off that gown, Trinculo ; by this hand, 
 111 have that gown. 
 
 Trin. Thy grace shall have it. 
 
 CaL The dropsy drown this fool ! what do you 
 mean, 
 
 (l)Bait (2) Education. (3) Jack with a lantern. 
 (4) Erer. (5) A shop for sale of old clothes. 
 
 To doat thus on such luggage? I^t's along, 
 And do the murder first ; if he awake, 
 From toe to crown he'll fill our eking with pinches ; 
 Make us strange stuff. 
 
 Ste. Be you quiet, monster. Mistress line, ii not 
 this my jerkin? Now is the. jerkin under the line : 
 now, jerkin, you are like to lose your hair, and 
 prove a bald jerkin. 
 
 Trin. Do, do : W* iteal by line and level, ant 
 like your grace. 
 
 Ste. I thank thee for that jest ; here's a garment 
 for't : wit shall not go unrewarded, while I am king 
 of this country : Sttal by line and level, is an excel- 
 lent pass of pate ; there's another garment for't. 
 
 Trin. Monster, come, put some lime" upon your 
 fingers, and away with the rest. 
 
 Cal. I will have none on't : we shall lose our time, 
 And all be turn'd to barnacles, or to ape* 
 With foreheads villanous low. 
 
 Ste. Monster, lay to your fingers ; help to Hear 
 this away, where mv hogshead of wine "is, or I'll 
 turn you out of my kingdom ; go to, carry this. 
 
 Trin. And this. 
 
 Ste. Aye, and this. 
 
 ? wof.te of hunters heard. Enter divers Spirits, 
 in shape of hounds, and hunt them about ; JPros- 
 pero and Ariel setting them on. 
 
 Pro. Hey, Mountain, hey! 
 
 Jrt. Silver ! there it goes, Sw'rer / 
 
 Pro. Fury, Fury ! there, Tyrant, there ! hark, 
 hark! 
 
 [Cal. Ste. and Trin. are driven out. 
 Go, charge my goblins that they grind their joints 
 With dry convulsions ; shorten 'up their sinews 
 With aged cramps ; and more pinch-spotted make 
 
 them, 
 Thnn pard,' or cat o' mountain. 
 
 " Hark, they roar. 
 
 Pro. Let them be hunted soundly : at this hour 
 Lie at my mercy all mine enemies ; 
 Shortly shall all my labours end. and thou 
 Shalt have the air "at freedom; lor a little. 
 Follow, and do me service. [Exeunt. 
 
 ACT V. 
 
 SC.E.VE I. Before the cell of Pros per o. Enler 
 Prospero in Aw magic robes, and Ariel. 
 
 Pro. Now does my project gather to a head : 
 My charms crack not ; my spirits obey ; and time 
 Goes upright with his carriage. How^s the day ? 
 
 .Sri. On the sixth hour ; at which time, my lord. 
 You said our work should cease. 
 
 P- I did say so, 
 
 When first I rais'd the tempest. Say, my spirit. 
 How fares the king and his ? 
 
 ' Confm'd together 
 
 In the same fashion as you pave in charge 
 Just as you left them, sir ; all prisoners 
 In the lime grove which weather-fends 8 your cell 
 They ca mot budge, till you release. The king, 
 His brother, and yours, abide all three distracted ; 
 And the remainder mourning over them, 
 Brim-full of sorrow, and dismay ; but chiefly 
 Him you term'd, sir. The s;ood nld lord Gonzalo; 
 His tears run down his beard, like winter's drop* 
 
 (6) Bird-lime. (7) Leopard. 
 
 (8) Defends from ba,d weather.
 
 Scent I. 
 
 TEMPEST. 
 
 From earns of reeds: 'your charm so strongly works Didst thou, Alonso, use me and my daughter: 
 
 them, Thy brother was a iurtherer in the act ; 
 
 That if you now beheld them, your affections Thou'rt pinch'd for't now, Sebastian. Flesh and 
 Would become tender. blood, 
 
 Pro. Dost thou think so, spirit ? j You brother mine, that entertain'd ambition, 
 
 .Jri. Mine would, sir, were I human. 
 
 Pro. And mine shall. 
 
 Hast thou, which art but air. a touch of feeling 
 Of their tunictions; and shall not myself, 
 One of their kind, that relish all as sharply, 
 Passion as they, be kindlier mov'd ilian tlibu art? 
 
 Expell'd remorse 2 and nature ; v. ho, with Sebastian, 
 ( \Vho.;e inward pinches therefore are most strong-,) 
 Would here have kill'd your kin:: ; I do forgive thee, 
 Unnatural though thou'art ! Their understanding 
 Begins to sv/c-11: and tho approaching tide 
 Will shortly f,il the reasonable shores, 
 
 tiicir high wrongs I am. struck lo the That now lie foul and muddy. Not one of them, 
 quck, I That yet looks on me, or would know me : Ariel, 
 
 I Fetch me t!ic hat and rapier in my cell 
 
 ["Exit ArieL 
 
 Yet with my nobler reason, 'gainst mv u:ry 
 Do I rake tort: the rarer action is 
 
 f is vina-i ttnui in ve'.ijjoaiice : liu-.y being penitent, I will dis-case me, and myself present," 
 
 lie drift of my purpose doth' extend As i wr.s sometime Milan : quickly, spirit ; 
 
 Not a frown furtiier: Go, release tiiem, Ariel ; 
 My charms I'll break their senses I'll restore, 
 A:i'i tiiey snail be themselves. 
 .in. . I'll fetch them. sir. 
 
 j Kz-lt. 
 Pro. Yc elves of hills, brooks, (tending lakes, 
 
 oves ; 
 
 And ye, tiiat on the sands v,uh printlcss foot 
 ])'> chu.bc tin; e'jbinrr Neptune, and <lo fly liim, 
 Wli^n lie comes back ; you demy-puppets, th.-.t 
 
 :>i:ime do the green-sour ringlets make, ' 
 Whereof tiie ewe not bites ; and y iJ, whose pas- 
 tune 
 
 Is to make midnight-mushrooms ; tint rcjo^e 
 To hear tiic solemn curie w ; by \,'l.>j<e aid 
 
 (Weak masters though ya be.) I have be-dimm'd 
 The noon-tide sun, cuil'd forth the mutinous winds, 
 
 And 'twixt the green sea and tho azur'd vault 
 Set roarino- war : to the dread rattling thunder 
 Have I given tire, aiid riued Jove's stout o^k 
 With his own bolt: the stron^-bas'd promo:. 'ory 
 Have I made shake ; and by the spurs pluck : d iip 
 The pine and cedar : graves, at wy command, 
 Have Wuk'd their sleepers ; op'd, and let them 
 
 forth 
 
 By my si> potent art : But this rough ma^ic 
 I here abjure : and, when I have requir'a 
 Some heavenly music (which even nov,- 1 do,) 
 To work mine end upon their senset. 
 This airy charm is for, I'll break my ta.'f, 
 Bury it certain fathoms in the earth, 
 And. deeper tiian did ever plummet sound, 
 I'll drown my book. [Solenui music. 
 
 Re-enter Ariel : ajlrr hint, Alonso, with a frantic 
 
 Thou shall ere long be free. 
 
 Ariel re-en'srs, singing, and helps to attire 
 Prospero. 
 
 An. Where the bee sucks, there suck 7; 
 In a coicslip's bell J lie : 
 There I cmich when awls do cry. 
 Us the bat's back I dp fly, 
 Jlftcr summer, merrily: 
 .WerrttK merrily, shall /"fore now, 
 Under uu blosziintiiat Jiangs on the bough. 
 
 Pro. 'Why, that's ciy dainty Ariel ; I shall mis 
 
 thee ; 
 
 But jet Jhou shalt hare freedom : so, so, so 
 To the kind's ship, invisible as thou art : 
 There shall thou find the mariners csleep 
 Under the hatches ; the master, and the boatswain, 
 Being awake, enforce them to this place ; 
 And presently, I pr'vthee. 
 
 ..Jrj. I drink the air before me, and rclum 
 
 Or e'er your pulse twice beat. 
 
 [Exit Ariel. 
 
 Gen. All torment, trouble, wonder, and amcze- 
 
 ment 
 
 Inhabits here : Some heavenly power guide us 
 Out. of this fearful country ! 
 
 Pro. Btiiold, sir king, 
 
 The wrong'd duke of Milan ? Prospero ; 
 For more assurance that a living prince 
 Docs now speak to thee, I embrace thy body ; 
 And to thee, and thy company, I bid 
 A hearty welcome. 
 
 i!en. Whe'r 3 thou Leest he, or no, 
 
 Or some enchanted triile to abuse me, 
 As late I have been, I not know : thy pulse 
 
 e, attended by Gonzalo; Sebastian and Beats, as of tlcsh and blood ; and, sir.ce I saw thee, 
 io til like manner, attended by Adrhn and The affliction of my mind amends, with which, 
 
 restore 
 
 Antonio , f 
 
 Francisco : They all enter the circle which Pros- ' I fear, a madness held me : thb must crave 
 pero had made, and there stand channt-J. ; iciiich j (An if this be at all) a most stranpre story. 
 Prospero observing, spenlcs. I Thy dukedom I resign ; and do entreat 
 
 Thou pardon me my wrongs: But how should 
 A solemn air, and the best comforter Prospero 
 
 To an unsettled fancy, care thy bnin?. Be living, and be here 1 
 
 Now useless, boil'd within thy skull ! Thsra stand, ! Pro. 
 
 For you are spell-stopp'cl. |Let me embrace thine a^ 
 
 Huly Gonzalo, honourable man, iBe raeasur'd, or comln'd. 
 
 Mine eyes, even sociable to the sho-.r of thine, j Con. 
 
 Fall fellowly drops. The charm dissolves apace ; i Or be not, I'll not swear. 
 
 And n.s the mornin? steals upon the nipht, j Pro. 
 
 Melting the darkness, so their rising series 
 
 Besrin to chase the ignorant fumes that imntle 
 
 Their clearer reason. O my jrood Gonzalo, 
 
 My true prescrrer, and a loval sir 
 
 To him thou follow'st; I will p-iv''hv graces 
 
 Home, both in word and deed. Most cruelly 
 
 First, noble frieno*. 
 : ; whose honour cannot 
 
 Whether this be, 
 You do vef taste 
 
 Some subtleties o'the ide, that will not let you 
 (Believe things certain : Welcome, my "friend* 
 
 all :^ 
 (But you, my brace of lords, were I so minded, 
 
 i.l; : le JoSeb. and Ant, 
 I here could pluck his highness' frown upon you, 
 
 (1) Thatch. (2) Pity, or tenderness of heart, 
 
 (5) Whether.
 
 TEMPEST. 
 
 Jet V. 
 
 And justify you traitors ; at this time 
 I'll tell no tales. 
 
 $eb. The devil speaks in him. Llside. 
 
 Pro. No;- 
 
 For you, most wicked sir, whom to call brother 
 Would even infect my mouth, I do forgive 
 Thy rankest fault ; all of them ; and require 
 My dukedom of thee, which, perforce, I know, 
 Thou must restore. 
 
 Jilon. If thou beest Prospero, 
 
 Give us particulars of thy preservation : 
 How thou hast met us here, who three hours since 
 Were wreck'd upon this shore ; where I have lost, 
 How sharp the point of tlu's remembrance is ! 
 My dear son Ferdinand. 
 
 jPro. I am wo 1 for't, sir. 
 
 Jilon. Irreparable is the loss ; and Patience 
 Says, it is past her cure. 
 
 Pro. I rather think 
 
 You have not sought her help ; of whose soft grace, 
 For the like loss, 1 have her sovereign aid, 
 And rest myself content. 
 
 Jilon. You the like loss ? 
 
 Pro. As great to me, as late ; and, portable 2 
 To make the dear loss, have I means much weaker 
 Than you may call to comfort you ; for I 
 Have lost my daughter. 
 
 Jilon. A daughter ? 
 
 heavens ! that they were living both in Naples, 
 The king and queen there ! that they were, I wish 
 Myself were mudded in that oozy bed 
 
 Where, my son lies. When did you lose your 
 
 daughter ? 
 
 Pro. In this last tempest. I perceive, these lords 
 At this encounter do so much admire, 
 That they devour their reason ; and scarce think 
 Their eyes do offices of truth, their words 
 Are natural breath ; but, howsoe'r you have 
 Been justled from your senses, know for certain, 
 That I am Prospero, and that very duke 
 Which was thrust forth of Milan ; who most 
 
 strangely 
 Upon this shore, where you were wreck'd, was 
 
 landed, 
 
 To be the lord on't. No more yet of this ; 
 For 'tis a chronicle of day by day, 
 Not a relation for a breakfast, nor 
 Befitting this first meeting. Welcome, sir ; 
 This cell's my court : here have I few attendants, 
 And subjects none abroad : pray you, look in. 
 My dukedom since you have given me again, 
 
 1 will requite you with as good a thing ; 
 
 At least, bring forth a wonder, to content ye, 
 As much as me my dukedom. 
 
 The entrance of the cell opens, and discovers Ferdi- 
 nand and Miranda playing at chess. 
 
 Jtfira. Sweet lord, you play me false. 
 
 Fer. No, my dearest love, 
 
 I would not for the world. 
 
 Jtfira. Yes, for a score of kingdoms you should 
 
 wrangle, 
 And I would call it fair play. 
 
 Jilon, If this prove 
 
 A vision of the island, one dear son 
 Shall I twice lose. 
 
 Seb. A most high miracle ! 
 
 Fer. Though the seas threaten, they are merciful; 
 I have eurs'd them without cause. 
 
 [Fercl. kneels to Alon. 
 
 Jilon. Now all the blessings 
 
 Of a glad father compass thee about ' 
 
 (1) Sorry. 
 
 (2) Bearable. 
 
 Arise, and say how thou cam'st here. 
 
 Jilira. ! wonder .' 
 
 How many goodly creatures are there here ! 
 How beauteous mankind is ! O brave new world, 
 That has such people in't ! 
 
 Pro. 'Tis new to thee. 
 
 Jilon. What is this maid, with whom thou wast 
 
 at play ? 
 
 Your eld'st acquaintance cannot be three hours : 
 Is she the goddess that hath sever'd us, 
 Ami brought us thus together ? 
 
 Fer. Sir, she's mortal ; 
 
 But, by immortal Providence, she's mine ; 
 1 chose her, when I could not ask my father 
 For his advice ; nor thought I had one : she 
 Is daughter to this famous duke of Milan, 
 Of whom so often I have heard renown, 
 But never saw before ; of whom I have 
 Receiv'd a second life, and second father 
 This lady makes him to me. 
 
 Jilon. I am her's : 
 
 But 0, how oddly will it sound, that I 
 Must ask my chilS forgiveness ! 
 
 Pro. . There, sir, stop : 
 
 Let us not burden our remembrances 
 With a heaviness that's gone. 
 
 Gon. I have inly wept, 
 
 Or should have spoke ere this. Look down, you 
 
 B*4*i 
 
 And on this couple drop a blessed crown ; 
 For it is you, that have chalk'd forth the way 
 Which brought us hither ! 
 
 .lion. I sav, Amen, Gonzalo ! 
 
 Gon. Was MilanthrustfromMilan,thathis issue 
 Should become king of Naples? O, rejoice 
 Bevond a common joy : and set it down 
 With "old on lasting pillars : In one voyage 
 Did Claribel her husband find at Tunis ; 
 And Ferdinand, her brother, found a wife, 
 Where he himself was lost ; Prospero his dukedom, 
 In a poor isle ; and all of us, ourselves, 
 When no man was his own. 3 
 
 Jilon. i Give me your hands : 
 
 [To Fer. and Mira. 
 
 Let grief and sorrow still embrace his heart, 
 That doth not wish you joy ! 
 
 GOTI. Be't so ! Amen ! 
 
 Re-enter Ariel, rcilh the Master and Boatswain 
 amazedly following. 
 
 look, sir, look, sir : here are more of us ! 
 
 1 prophesied, if a gallows were on land, 
 
 This fellow could not drown : Now, blasphemy, 
 That swcar'st grace o'erboard, not an oath on shore? 
 Hast thou no mouth by land ? What is the news .' 
 
 Boats. The best news is, that we have safely found 
 Our king and company : the next, our ship, 
 Which, but three glasses since, we gave out split, 
 Is tight and yare, 4 and bravely rigg'd as when 
 We nrst put out to sea. 
 
 Jlri. Sir, all this service ) 
 
 Have I done since I went. > [Aside. 
 
 Pro. My tricksy 1 spirit ! J 
 
 Jilon. These are not natural events ; they 
 
 strengthen, 
 
 From strange to stranger. Say, how came you 
 hither? 
 
 Boats. If I did think, sir, I were well awake, 
 I'd strive to tell you. We were dead of sleep, 
 And (how, we know not) all clapp'd under hatches. 
 Where, but even now, with strange and several 
 noises 
 
 '3} In his sense*. (4) Keady, (5, Clerer adroit,
 
 Scent I. 
 
 TEMPEST. 
 
 Of roaring, shrieking, howling, pingline chains, 
 And more diversity of sounds, all horrible, 
 We were awak'd ; straightway, at liberty ; 
 Where we, in all her trim, freshly beheld 
 Our royal, good, and gallant ship ; our master 
 Cap'ring to eye her: On a trice, so please you, 
 Even in a dream, were we divided from them, 
 And were brought mopincr hither. 
 
 *1ri. Was't well done ? ) 
 
 Pro. Bravely, my diligence. Thou > [1side 
 shall be free. ) 
 
 Alon. This is as strange a maze as e'er men trod ; 
 And there is in this business more than nature 
 Was ever conduct 1 of: some oracle 
 Must rectify our knowledge. 
 
 Pro. Sir, my liege, 
 
 Do not infest your mind with beating'on 
 The strangeness of this business ; al'pick'd leisure, 
 Which shall be shortly, single I'll resolve vou 
 (Which to you shall seem probable,) of ever,- 
 These happen'tl accidents ; till when, be cheerful, 
 And think of each thing well. Come hither, spirit 
 
 [Jside. 
 
 Set Caliban and his companions free : 
 Untie the spell. [Exit Ariel.] How fares my gra- 
 cious sir 1 
 
 There are yet missing of your company 
 Some few odd lads, that you remembe'r not. 
 
 Re-enter Ariel, dmin^in Caliban, Stephano, and 
 Trinculo, in ttieir stolen apparel. 
 
 Ste. Every man shift for all the rest, and let no 
 man take care for himself; for all is but fortune : 
 Coragio, bully-monster, Coragio ! 
 
 Trin. If these be true spies "which I wear in my 
 head, here's a goodly sight. 
 
 Col. Setebos, these be brave spirits, indeed ! 
 How fine my master is ! I ara afraid 
 He will chastise me. 
 
 Seb. Ha, ha ; 
 
 What things are these, my lord Antonio ? 
 Will money buy them ? 
 
 Ant. Very like; one of them 
 
 Is a plain fish, and, no doubt, marketable. 
 
 Pro. Mark but the badges of these men, my 
 
 lords, 
 
 Then say, if they be true : * This mis-shapen knave. 
 His mother was a witch ; and one so strong- 
 Thai could control the moon, make flows ami ebbs, 
 And deal in her command, without her power: 
 These three have robb'd me ; and this demi-devil 
 (For he's a bastard one,) had plotted with them 
 
 (1) Conductor. 
 
 (2) Huacst. 
 
 To take my life : two of these fellows you 
 Must know, and own ; this thing of darkness I 
 Acknowledge mine. 
 
 Col. I shall be pinch'd to death. 
 
 *llon. Is not'thi? Stephano, my drunken butler? 
 
 Seb. He is drunk now : Where had he wine ? 
 
 Jilon. And Trinculo is reeling ripe : where should 
 
 they 
 
 Find this grand hcmor that hath gilded them ? 
 How cam'st thou in this pickle ? 
 
 Trin. I have been in such a pickle, since I saw 
 you last, that, I fear me, will never out of my bonds : 
 I shall not fear fly-blowing. 
 
 Seb. Why, how now, Stephano ? 
 
 Sle. O, touch me not ; I am not Stephano, but 
 a cramp. 
 
 Pro. You'd be king of the isle, sirrah? 
 
 Sit. I should have been a sore one then. 
 
 *2/on. This is as strange a tiling as e'er I look'd on. 
 [Pointing to Caliban. 
 
 Pro. He is as disjiroportion'd in his manners, 
 As iu his shape : Go, sirrah, to my cell ; 
 Take v.Lh you your companions ; as you look 
 To have my pardon, trim it handsomely. 
 
 Col. Ay, that I will ; and I'll be wise hereafter, 
 And seek for $race : What a thrice-double ass 
 Was I, to take this drunkard for a god, 
 And worship this dull fool ! 
 
 Pro. Go to ; away ! 
 
 ..i.'c,):. Hence, and bestow your luggage where 
 you found it. 
 
 Seb. Or stole it, rather. 
 
 [Exeunt Cal. Ste. and Trin. 
 
 Pro. Sir, I invite your highness, and your train, 
 To my poor cell : v.'here you shall take vour rest 
 or this one night ; which (part of it) I'll waste 
 t'itli such discourse, as, I not doubt, shall make it 
 o quick away : the story of my life, 
 And the particular accidents, gone by, 
 since I carne to this isle : And in the morn, 
 I'll bring you to your ship, and so to Naples, 
 Where I have hope to see the nuptial 
 Of these our dear-beloved solemniz'd ; 
 \nd thence retire me to niv Milan, where 
 2very third thought shall be my grave. 
 
 Alan. I long 
 
 To hear the story cf vour life, which must 
 fake the car Strangely. 
 
 Pro. I'll deliver all; 
 
 \nd promise you calm ser.s, auspicious gales, 
 And sail so expeditious, that shall catch 
 four royal fl:et far ofi'. My Ariel ; chick, 
 That is thy charge ; then to'the elements 
 Be free, and fare thou well ! [nside] Please you 
 draw near. [Exeunt,
 
 TEMPEST. 
 
 EPILOGUE. 
 
 Spoken by Prospero. 
 
 A'*OFF my charms are all o'erJ/trotcn, 
 And what strength I nave's mine own; 
 Which is most faint : now, '/w true, 
 I must be here confin'd by you, 
 Or sent to Naples : Let me not, 
 Since / have my dukedom got, 
 Jlnd nardori'd the deceiver, dwell 
 In this bare island, by your spell; 
 But release me from my bands, 
 With the help of your good hands. 1 
 Gentle breath of yours my sails 
 .Vi!st Jill, or ehe my project fails, 
 Which was to please : now fwant 
 Spirits to enforce, art to enchant; 
 .inrf my ending is despair, 
 jjnless I be reliev'd by prayer; 
 
 (!* Applause : noise was supposed to dissolve a 
 
 pell. 
 
 Which pierce* so. lhat it cisaultt 
 Mercy itself, and frees all faults. 
 
 Jis you from crimes wiuld pardon- d Je, 
 Let your indulgence set me free. 
 
 It is observed of The Tempest, that its plan is 
 regular; this the author of The llevisal thinks, 
 what I think too, an accidental effect of the story, 
 not intended or regarded by our author. But, 
 whatever might be Shakspeare's intention in form- 
 ing or adopting the plot, he has made it instrumen- 
 tal to the production of many characters, diversi- 
 fied with boundless invention, and preserved with 
 profound skill in nature, extensive knowledge of 
 opinions, and accurate observation of lite. In a sin- 
 gle drama are here exhibited princes, courtiers, and 
 sailors, all speaking in their real characters. There 
 is the agency of airy spirits, and of an earthly gob- 
 lin ; the operations of magic, the tumults of a 
 storm, the adventures of a desert island, the native 
 effusion of untaught affection, the punishment of 
 guilt, and the final happiness of the pair for whom 
 our passions and reasons arc equally interested. 
 
 JOHNSON.
 
 ( 27 ) 
 
 TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA. 
 
 
 Duke of Milan, 
 
 PERSONS REPRESENTED. 
 
 -> Out-laws. 
 
 Antonio, father to Proteus. 
 Thurio, a foolish rival to Valentine. 
 Kglamour, agent for Silvia in her escape. 
 Speed, a clownish servant to Valentine. 
 Launce, servant to Proteus. 
 Panthino, servant to .intoiiio. 
 Host, where Julia lodges in .Milan. 
 
 Julia, a lady cf Verona^ beloved by Protnts. 
 Silvia, thf duke's daughter, beloved by Valtntirit. 
 Lucctta, waiting-woman to Julia. 
 
 Servants, musicians. 
 
 Scene, SemtlliResin Veroiia; sometimes in Titian; 
 Hi id on tite frontiers of .Mantua. 
 
 ACT I. 
 
 SCE.VE /. .9ii open place in Verona. 
 Valentine and Proteus. 
 
 Enter 
 
 Valentine. 
 
 V/'EASE to persuade, my loving Proteus ; 
 Home-keeping youth have ever homely wits: 
 Wcr't not, affection chains thy lender days 
 To the sweet glances of thy honour'd love, 
 1 rather would entreat thy company, 
 To see the wonders of the world abroad, 
 Than Urine dully sluggardiz'd at home, 
 Wear out thy yo'uth with shapeless idleness. 
 But, since th'ou lov'st, love still, and thrive therein, 
 Even as I would, when I to love begin. 
 
 Pro. Wilt thou be gone? 
 
 adieu ! 
 
 Think on thy Proteus, when thou. haply, secst 
 Some rare note-worthy object in thy travel : 
 Wish me partaker in thy happiness, 
 
 If lost, why then a grievous labour won ; 
 However, but a icily bought with wit, 
 Or else a wit by ibliy vanquished. 
 
 Pro. So, by your circumstance, you call me fool. 
 
 Vol. So, by your circumstance, I fear, you'll 
 prove. 
 
 Pro. 'T is love you cavil at : I am not Love. 
 
 Vol. Love is your master, for he masters you : 
 And he that is so yoked by a. fool, 
 Methinks should hot be chronicled for wise. 
 
 Pro. Yet writers say, As in the sweetest bud 
 The eating canker dwells, so eating love 
 Inhabits in the finest wits of all. 
 
 Val. And writers say, As the most forward bud 
 Is eaten by the canker ere it blow, 
 Even so by love the young and tender wit 
 Is turn'd to folly ; blasting in the bud, 
 
 When thou dost meet good hap ; and, in thy dan- 
 ger, 
 
 If erer danger do environ thee, 
 Commend uiy grievance to mv holy prayers, 
 For I will be thy beads-man, Valentine. 
 
 Vol. And on a love-book pray for my success. 
 
 Pro. Upon some book I love, I'll pray for thee. 
 
 Vat. That's on some shallow storv of deep love, 
 How young Leander cross'd the Hellespont. 
 
 Pro. That's a deep story of a deeper love. 
 For he was more than over shoes in love. 
 
 Vol. 'Tis true ; for you are over boots in love, 
 And yet you never swam the Hellespont. 
 
 Sweet Valentine, Losing his verdure even in the prime, 
 And all the fair effects of future hopes. 
 But wherefore waste I time to counsel thee, 
 That art a votary to fond desire? 
 Once more adieu : my father at the road 
 
 Expects my coining, there to see me shipp'd. 
 
 Pro. And thither will I bring thee, Valentine. 
 
 Val. Sweet Proteus, no ; now let us take our 
 
 leave. 
 
 At Milan, let me hear from thee by letters, 
 Of thy success in love, arid what news else 
 Betideth here in absence of thy friend ; 
 And I likewise will visit thee with mine. 
 
 Pro. All happiness bechance to thee in Milan ! 
 
 Val. As much to you at home ! and so, farewell ! 
 [Exit Valentine. 
 
 Pro. He after honour hunts ? I after love : 
 He leaves his friends, to dignify them more ; 
 
 I leave myself, my friends, and all for love. 
 
 Thnn. Jiili:i- t'nnn hnt mptntnnrnhns'H mp 
 
 Pro. Over the boots? nay, give me not the _ ^ , 
 
 boots. 1 Thou, Julia, thou hast metamorphos'd me ; 
 
 Val. No, I'll not, for it boots thee not. Made me neglect my studies, lose mv time, 
 
 Pro. What? War with good counsel, set the world at nought ; 
 
 Val. To be , Made wit with musing weak, heart sick with 
 
 In lore, where scorn is bought with groans ; coy j 
 
 looks, 
 
 With heart-sore sighs ; one fading moment's mirth, 
 With twenty watchful, weary, tedious nights : 
 If haply won, perhaps, a hapless gain ; 
 
 (1) A humorous punishment at harvest-home 
 fuels, &c. 
 
 thought. 
 
 Enter Speed. 
 
 Speed. Sir Proteus, save you : saw you raj 
 
 master ? 
 Pro. But now he parted hence, to embark for 
 
 Milan.
 
 58 
 
 TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA. 
 
 Jet I. 
 
 Speed. Twenty to one then, he is shipp'd already; 
 Ana I have play'd the sheep, in losing him. 
 
 Pro. Indeed a sheep doth very often stray, 
 An if the shepherd be awhile away. 
 
 Speed. You conclude that my master is a shep- 
 herd then, and I a sheep ? 
 
 Pro. I do. 
 
 Speed. Why then my horns are his horns, whether 
 I wake or sleep. 
 
 Pro. A silry answer, and fitting well a sheep. 
 
 Speed. This proves me still a sheep. 
 
 Pro. True ; and thy master a shepherd. 
 
 Speed. Nay, that I can deny by a circumstance. 
 
 Pro. It shall go hard, but I'll prove it by another. 
 
 Speed. The shepherd seeks the sheep, and not 
 the sheep the shepherd ; but I seek my master, 
 and my master seeks not me : therefore, I am no 
 sheep. 
 
 Pro. The sheep for fodder follow the shepherd, 
 the shepherd for food follows not the sheep ; thou 
 for wages followest thy master, thy master for wa- 
 ges follows not thee : therefore, thou art a sheep. 
 
 Speed. Such another proof will make me cry 
 baa. 
 
 Pro. But dost thou hear? gav'st thou my letter 
 to Julia ? 
 
 Speed. Ay. sir: I, a lost mutton, gave your let- 
 ter to her, a laced mutton ;' and she, a laced mut- 
 ton, gave me, a lost mutton, nothing for mv labour. 
 
 Pro. Here's too small a pasture for such a store 
 of muttons. 
 
 Speed. If the ground be overcharged, you were 
 best stick her. 
 
 Pro. Nay, in that you are astray ; 'twere best 
 pound you. 
 
 Speed. Nay, sir, less than a pound shall serve 
 me for carrying your letter. 
 
 Pro. You mistake; I mean the pound, a pin- 
 fold. 
 
 Speed. From a pound to a pin ? fold it over and 
 
 over, 
 
 Tis threefold too little for carrying a letter to your 
 lover. 
 
 Pro. But what said she? did she nod ? 
 
 [Speed nods. 
 
 Speed. I. 
 
 Pro. Nod, I ? why, that's noddy.* 
 
 Spted. You mistook, sir ; I say. she did nod : 
 and you ask me, if she did nod, and I say, I. 
 
 Pro. And that set together, is noddy. 
 
 Speed. Now you have taken the pains to set it 
 together, take it for your pains. 
 
 Pro. No, no, you shall have it for bearing the 
 letter. 
 
 Speed. Well, I perceive, I must be fain to bear 
 with you. 
 
 Pro. Why, sir, how do you bear with me ? 
 
 Speed. Marry, sir, the letter very orderly ; having 
 nothing but the word, noddy, for my pains. 
 
 Pro. Beshrew' me, but you have a quick wit 
 
 Speed. And yet it cannot overtake your slow 
 purse. 
 
 Pro. Come, come, open the matter in brief: 
 what said she ? 
 
 Speed. Open your purse, that the money, and 
 the matter, may be both at once delivered. 
 
 Pro. Well, sir, here is for your pains ; what said 
 she? 
 
 Speed. Truly, sir. I think you'll hardly win her. 
 
 Pro. Why? couid'st thou perceive so much 
 from her ? 
 
 (I) A term for a courtezan. (2) A game at cards. 
 (S) 111 betide. 
 
 Speed. Sir, I could perceive nothing at all from 
 her ; no, not so much as a ducat for delivering 
 your letter : and being so hard to me that brought 
 your mind, I fear, she'll prove as hard to you in 
 telling her mind. Give her no token but stones ; 
 for she's as hard as steel. 
 
 Pro. What, said she nothing ? 
 
 Spted. No, not so much as take this for thy 
 pains. To testify your bounty, I thank vou, you 
 nave testern'd* me; in requital whereof, hence- 
 forth carry your letters yourself; and so, sir, I'll 
 commend you to my master. 
 
 Pro. Go, go, begone, to save your ship from 
 
 wreck ; 
 
 not Which cannot perish, having thee aboard, 
 ter, Being destin'd to a drier death on shore : 
 I must go send some better messenger ; 
 I fear, my Julia would not deign my lines, 
 Receiving them from such a worthless post. 
 
 [Ernml. 
 
 SCENE II. The same. Garden of Julia'l 
 Ionise. Enter Julia and Lucetta. 
 
 Ji-'!. But say, Lucetta, now we are alone, 
 Would'st thou then counsel me to fall in love 
 
 Luc. Ay, madam ; so you stumble not unhecd- 
 fullv. 
 
 Jid. Of all the fair resort of gentlemen, 
 That every day with parle 5 encounter me, 
 In thy opinion, which is worthiest love ? 
 
 Luc. Please you, repeat their names, I'll show 
 
 my mind 
 According"to my shallow simple skill. 
 
 Jul. What think'st thou of the fair Sir Eglamour T 
 
 Luc. As of a knight well-spoken, neat and fiue; 
 But, were I you, he never should be mine. 
 
 Jid. What think'st thou of the rich Mercatio ? 
 
 Luc. Well of his wealth ; but of himself, so, so. 
 
 Jid. W r hat think'st thou of the gentle Proteus ? 
 
 Luc. Lord, lord ! to see what folly reisrns in us { 
 
 Jul. How now! what means this 'passion at his 
 name? 
 
 Luc. Pardon, dear madam ; 'Us a passing 
 
 shame, 
 
 That I, unworthy body as I am, 
 Should censure 8 thus on lovely gentlemen. 
 
 Jid. Why not on Proteus, as of all the rest ? 
 
 Luc. Then thus, of many good I think him 
 
 best. 
 
 Jul. Your reason ? 
 
 Luc. I have no other but a woman's reason ; 
 [ think him so, because I think him so. 
 
 Jul. And would'st thou have me east ray lore 
 on him ? 
 
 Luc. Ay, if you thought your love not cast away. 
 
 Jul. Why, he of all the rest hath never mov'd me. 
 
 Luc. Yet he of all the rest, I think, best loves ye. 
 
 Jid. His little speaking shows his love but small. 
 
 Luc. Fire, that is closest kept, burns most of all. 
 
 Jul. They do not love, that do not show their love, 
 
 Luc. O, they love least, that let men know their 
 love. 
 
 Jul. I would, I knew his mind. 
 
 Luc. Peruse this paper, madam. 
 
 Jul. To Julia, Say, from whom ? 
 
 " That the contents will show. 
 
 Jul. Say, sav ; who gave it thee ? 
 
 Luc. Sir Valentine's page ; and sent, I think, 
 
 from Proteus : 
 He would have given it you, but I, being in the way,. 
 
 (-0 Given me a sixpence. 
 (6) Pass sentence. 
 
 (5) Talk.
 
 Sctne III. 
 
 TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA. 
 
 Jul. 
 
 pr 
 . Now', by my modesty, a goodly broker !' 
 
 pray. 
 
 Did in your name receive it ; pardon the fault, I Jid. This babble shall not henceforth trouble me. 
 
 : Here is a coil' with protestation ! 
 
 [Tears the letter. 
 
 Go, get you gone ; and let the papers lie : 
 You would be fingering them, to anger me. 
 Luc. She makes it strange ; but she would be 
 
 best pleas'd 
 
 To be so anger'd with another letter. [Exit. 
 
 Jid. Nay, would I were so anger'd with the same ! 
 
 Dare you presume to harbour wanton lines ? 
 To whisper and conspire against my youth ? 
 Now, trust me, 'tis an office of great worth, 
 And you an officer fit for the place. 
 There, take the paper, see it be return'd ; 
 Or else return no more into my sight. 
 
 Luc. To plead for love deserves more fee than 
 hate. 
 
 Jul. Will you be gone ? 
 
 Luc. 
 
 hateful hands, to tear such loving words ! 
 Injurious wasps ! to feed on such sweet honey, 
 And kill the bees that yield it, with your stings ! 
 
 [Exit 
 
 Jul. And yet, I would I had o'erlook'd the letter. 
 It were a shame to call her back again, 
 And pray her to a fault for which I chid her. 
 What fool is she, that knows I am a maid, 
 And would not force the letter to my view ? 
 Since maids, in modesty, say Vb, to that 
 Which they would have the profferer construe, Jly. 
 Fie, fie ! how wayward is this foolish love, 
 That, like a testy babe, will scratch the nurse, 
 And presently, all humbled, kiss the rod ! 
 How churlishly I chid Lucetta hence, 
 When willingly I would have had her here ! 
 How angrily I taught my brow to frown, 
 W'hen inward joy enforc'd my heart to smile ! 
 My penance is, .o call Lucetta back, 
 And ask remission for my folly past: 
 What ho! Lucetta! 
 
 Re-enter Lucetta. 
 
 Lue. What would your ladyship ? 
 
 Jul. Is it near dinner-time ? 
 
 Luc. I would it were : 
 
 That you might kill your stomach* on your meat, 
 And not upon your maid. 
 
 Jul. What is't you took up 
 
 So gingerly? 
 
 Luc. Nothing. 
 
 Jul. W r hy didst thou stoop, then? 
 
 Luc. To take a paper up that I let fall. 
 
 Jul. And is that paper nothing ? 
 
 Lue. Nothing concerning me. 
 
 Jul. Then let it lie for those that it concerns. 
 
 Luc. Madam, it will not lie where it concerns, 
 Unless it have a false interpreter. 
 
 Jul. Some love of yours hath writ to you in rhyme. 
 
 Luc. That I might sing it, madam, to a tune : 
 Give me a note : your ladyship can set 
 
 Jul. As little by such toys as may be possible : 
 Best sine it to the tune of Li7il o' lore. 
 
 Luc. ft is too heavy for so^light a tune. 
 
 Jul. Heavy ? belike it hath some burden then. 
 
 Luc. Ay ; and melodious were it, would you 
 sing it. 
 
 Jul. And why not you ? 
 
 Luc. I cannot reach so hiph. 
 
 Jul. Let's see your son? : How now ? minion ? 
 
 Luc. Keep tune there still, so you will sing it out: 
 And yet, methinks, I do not like this tune. 
 
 Jul. You do not ? 
 
 Luc. No, madam ; it is too sharp. 
 
 J\d. You, minion, are too saucy. 
 
 Luc. Nay, now you are too flat. 
 And mar the concord with too harsh a descant: 1 
 There wanteth but a mean 4 to fill your song. 
 
 Jul. The mean is drown'd with your unruly base. 
 
 Lue. Indeed, I bid the base 1 for Proteus. 
 
 MIA matchmaker. (2) Passion or obstinacy. 
 (3) A term in music, (4) The tenor in music, 
 
 That you may ruminate, j I'll kiss each several paper for amends. 
 
 [Exit. I And here is writ Ai'nrf Julia ; unkind Julia ! 
 
 As in revenge of thy ingratitude, 
 I throw thy name against the bruising stones, 
 Trampling contemptuously on thy disdain. 
 Look, here is writ love-icounded Proteus : 
 Poor wounded name ! my bosom, as a bed, 
 Shall lodge thee, till thy wound be thoroughly 
 
 heal'd ; 
 
 And thus I search it with a sovereign kiss. 
 But twice, or thrice, was Proteus written down ? 
 Be calm, good wind, blow not a word away 
 Till I have found each letter in the letter, 
 Except mine own name : that some whirl wind bear 
 Unto a ragged, fearful, hanging rock, 
 And throw it thence into the raging sea ! 
 Lo, here in one line is his name twice writ, 
 Poor forlorn Proteus, passionate Proteus, 
 To the sweet Julia : that I'll tear away ; 
 And yet ^ will not, sitir so prettily 
 He couples it to his complaining names : 
 Thus will I fold them one upon another ; 
 Now kiss, embrace, contend, do what you will. 
 
 Re-enter Lucetta. 
 
 Lue. Madam, dinner's ready, and your father 
 
 stays. 
 
 Jid. Well, let us go. 
 LKC. What, shall these papers lie like tell-tales 
 
 here? 
 
 Jid. Ifyou respect them, best to take them up. 
 , Luc. Nay, I was taken up for laying them down : 
 Yet here they shall not lie, for catching cold. 
 Jul. I see you have a month's mind to them. 
 Lc. Ay, madam, you may say what sights you 
 
 see; 
 
 I see things too, although you judge I wink. 
 Jul. Come, come, wili't please you go ? 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE III. Tlit same. Jl room in Antonio's 
 house. Enter Antonio and Panthino. 
 
 *int. Tell me. Panthino, what sad 1 talk was that, 
 Wherewith my orother held you in the cloister ? 
 
 Pan. 'Twas of his nephew Proteus, your son. 
 
 .int. Why, what of him? 
 
 Pan. He wonder'd, that your lordship 
 
 Would suffer him to spend his youth at home ; 
 While other men, of slender refutation, 9 
 Put forth their sons to seek preferment out: 
 Some, to the wars, to try their fortune there ; 
 Some, to discover islands far away ; 
 Some, to the studious universities" 
 For any, or for all these exercises, 
 He said, that Proteus, yc'ir son, was meet ; 
 And did request me, to importune you, 
 To let him spend his time no more at home, 
 
 (5) A challenge. (6) Bustle, stir. (7) Sioct. 
 (3) Serious, (9) Little consequence
 
 30 
 
 TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA. 
 
 jet /;. 
 
 Which would be great impeachment 1 to his age, 
 In having known no travel in his youth. 
 
 Ant. Nor need'st thou much importune me to 
 
 that 
 
 Whereon this month I have been hammering. 
 I have cousider'd well his loss of time ; 
 And hotv he cannot be a perfect man, 
 Not being try'd and tutor'd in the world : 
 Experience is by industry aehiev'd, 
 And perfected by the BWift course of time : 
 Then, tell me, whither were I best to send him ? 
 
 Pant. I think, your lordship is not ignorant, 
 How his companion, youthful Valentine, 
 Attends the emperor in his royal court. 
 
 Int. I know it well. 
 
 Pant. 'Twere good, I think, your lordship sent 
 
 him thither : 
 
 There shall he practise tilts and tournaments, 
 Hear sweet discourse, converse with noblemen ; 
 And be in eye of every exercise, 
 Worthy his youth ana nobleness of birth. 
 
 Ant. I like thy counsel ; well hast thou advis'd: 
 And, that thou may'st perceive how well I like it, 
 The execution of it shall make known ; 
 Even with the speediest execution 
 I will despatch him to the emperor's court. 
 
 Pant. To-morrow, may it please you, Don Al- 
 
 phonso, 
 
 With other gentlemen of good esteem, 
 Are journeying to salute the emperor, 
 And to commend their service to his will. 
 
 Ant. Good company : with them shall Proteus go: 
 And, in good time, now will we break with him. 2 
 
 Enter Proteus. 
 
 Pro. Sweet love ! sweet lines ! sweet life ! 
 Here is her hand, the agent of her heart ; 
 Here is her oath for love, her honour's pawn 
 O, that our fathers would applaud our loves, 
 To seal our happiness with their consents ! 
 O heavenly Julia! 
 
 Ant. How now? what letter are you reading 
 there? 
 
 Pro. May't please your lordship, 'tis a word or 
 
 two 
 
 Of commendation sent from Valentine, 
 Deliver'd by a friend that came from him. 
 
 Ant. Lend me the letter ; let me see what news. 
 
 Come on, Panthino ; you shall be emploj'd 
 To hasten on his expedition. 
 
 [Exeunt Ant. and Pant. 
 Pro. Thus have I shunn'd the fire, for fear of 
 
 burning ; 
 
 And drcnch'd me in the sea. where I am drown'd : 
 I fear'd to show my father Julia's letter, 
 I Lest he should take exceptions to my love ; 
 JAnd with the vantage of mine own excuse 
 4ath he excepted most against my love. 
 O, how this spring of love resembleth 
 
 The uncertain glory of an April day ; 
 Which now shows all the beauty of the sun, 
 And by and by a cloud takes all away ! 
 
 Re-enter Panthino. 
 
 Pant. Sir Proteus, your father calls for you ; 
 He is in haste, therefore, I pray you, go. 
 
 Pro. Why, this it is ! my heart accords thereto; 
 And vet a thousand times it answers, no. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 ACT II. 
 
 SCENE L Milan. An apartment in tht Dukt't 
 palace. Enter Valenline and Spveu. 
 
 Speed. Sir, your glove. 
 
 V al. Nol mine ; my gloves are on. 
 
 Speed* Why then this may be yours, for this a 
 but one. 
 
 Vol. Ha ! let me see : ay, give it me, it's mine > 
 Sweel ornament th^t decks a thing divine ! 
 Ah Silvia ! Silvia ! 
 
 Speed. Madam Silvia ! madam Silvia I 
 
 V al. How now, sirrah ! 
 
 Speed. She is not within hearing, air. 
 
 I al. Why, sir, who bade you call her ? 
 
 Speed. Your worship, sir ; or else I mistook. 
 
 I al. Well, you'll still be too forward. 
 
 Speed. And yet I was last chidden for being toe 
 slow. 
 
 Vol. Go to, sir ; tell me, do you know madam 
 Silvia ? 
 
 Speed. She that your worship loves ? 
 
 Vol. Why, how know you that I am in love ? 
 
 Speed. ]Vlarry, bv these special marks : First, you 
 
 - j i;1__c<' r A ,1 
 
 Pro. There is no news, my lord; but that he j have learned, line Sir Proteus, to wreath your arms 
 
 writes 
 
 How happily hs lives, how well bclov'd, 
 And daily graced by the emperor : 
 Wishing nit: with him, partner of his fortune. 
 
 Ant. "And how stand you affected to his wish? 
 
 Pro. As one rrlying on your lordship's will, 
 And not depending on his 'friendly wish. 
 
 Ant. My will is something sorted with his wish 
 Muse' not that I thus suddenly proceed ; 
 For what I will, I will, and there an end. 
 I am resolv'd, that thou shall spend some time 
 With Valentinus in the emperor's court ; 
 What maintenance he from his friends receives, 
 Like exhibition* thou shall have from me. 
 To-morrow be in readiness lo go : 
 Excuse il nol, for I am peremptory. 
 
 Pro. My lord, I cannot be so soon provided ; 
 Please vou, deliberate a day or Iwo. 
 
 Ant. Look, what thou want' st, shall be sent after 
 
 thee: 
 No more of stay ; to-morrow thou must go. 
 
 Reproach, (2) Break the matter to him. 
 Wonder, ^ (4) Allowance, 
 
 like a male-content ; to relish a love-song, like a 
 robin-rcd-breast ; to walk alone, like one that had 
 !he pestilence ; to sigh, like a school-boy that had 
 lost his A. B. C. ; to weep, like a young wench that 
 liad buried her grandam ; to fast, like one that takes 
 diet:* to watch, like one that fears robbing: to 
 speak puling, like a beggar at Hallowmas.' "You 
 were wont, when you laugh'd, to crow like a cock ; 
 when you walked, to walk like one of the lions ; 
 when you fasted, it was presently after dinner ; 
 when you looked sadly, it was for want of money : 
 and now you are metamorphosed with a mistress, 
 thai, when I look on you, I can hardly think you 
 my master. 
 
 Vol. Arc all these things perceived in me? 
 
 Speed. They are all perceived without you. 
 
 *Val. Without me? They cannot. 
 
 Speed. Without you 7 nay, that's certain, for, 
 withoul you were so simple, none else would : but 
 you are so wilhoul these follies, that these follies 
 "are within you, and shine through you like the 
 water in a urinal ; that not an eye, th'at sees you. 
 
 (5) Under a regimen. (6) Allhallowma*
 
 tktntl. 
 
 TWO GENTLEMEN OF VEKONA. 
 
 but is a physician to comment on your malady. But for my duty to your ladyship. 
 Vol. But tell me, dost thou know my lady Silvia ? Sil. I thank you, gentle servant : 'tis very clerkly 1 
 
 Speed. She, that you gaze on so, as she sits a 
 supper ? 
 
 Vol. Hast thou observ'd that ? even she I mean. 
 Speed. Why, sir, I know her not. 
 Vol. Dost thou know her by my gazing on her, 
 and yet know'st her not ? 
 Speed. Is she not hard-favour'd, sir ? 
 Vol. Not so fair, boy, as well favoured. 
 Speed. Sir, I know that well enough. 
 V al. What dost thou know ? 
 Speed. That she is not so fair, as (of you) well 
 favoured. 
 
 Vol. I mean, that her beauty is exquisite, but 
 her favour infinite. 
 
 Speed. That's because .the one is painted, and 
 the other out of all count. 
 
 Vol. How painted ? and how out of count ? 
 Speed. Marry, sir, so painted, to make her fair, 
 that no man counts of her beautv. 
 
 Fa/. How esteemest thou me 1 I account of her 
 beauty. 
 
 Speed. You never saw her since she was de- 
 formed. 
 
 Vol. How long h^th she been deformed ? 
 Speed. Ever since you loved her. 
 Vol. I have loved her ever since I saw her, and 
 still I see her beautiful. 
 Speed. If vou love her, you cannot see her. 
 Vol. Why"? 
 
 Speed. Because love is blind. O, that you had 
 mine eyes ; or your own had the lights they were 
 wont to have, when you chid at Sir Proteus for 
 going un<rartered ! 
 
 Vol. What should I see then ? 
 Speed. Your own present folly, and her passing 
 deformity: for he, being in love, could not see to 
 garter his hose ; and you, being in love, cannot see 
 to out on your hose. 
 
 Vol. Belike, boy, then you are in love ; for last 
 morning you could, not see to wipe my shoes. 
 
 Speed. True, sir ; I was in love with my bed : I 
 thank you, you swinged' me for my love, which 
 maices me the bolder to chide you for" yours. 
 Vol. In conclusion, I stand affected to her. 
 Speed. I would you were set ; so, your affection 
 would cease. 
 
 Vol. Last night she enjoined me to write some 
 lines to one she loves. 
 Speed. And have vou ? 
 Yd. I have. 
 
 Speed. Are. they not lamely writ ? 
 Vol. No, boy, 'but as well as I can do them : 
 Peace, here slie comes. 
 
 Enter Silvia. 
 
 Spied. O excellent motion !* exceeding pup- 
 pet ! now will he interpret to her. 
 
 Vol. Madam and mistress, a thousand good 
 morrows. 
 
 Speed. O, 'give you good even ! here's a million 
 of manners. [Jlnide. 
 
 Sil. Sir Valentine and servant, to you two thou- 
 sand. 
 
 ^ Speed. He should give her interest; and she 
 gives it him. 
 
 Vol. As you enjoin'd me, I have writ your letter, 
 Unto the secret nameless friend of yours 5 
 Which I was much unwilling to proceed in, 
 
 done. 
 
 Vol. Now trust me, madam, it came hardly off; 
 For, being ignorant to whom it goes, 
 I writ at random, very doubtfully. 
 Sil. Perchance you think too much of so much 
 
 pains ? 
 
 Vol. No, madam ; so it stead you, I will write, 
 Please you command, a thousand times as much : 
 And yet, 
 
 SU. A pretty period ! Well, I guess the sequel ; 
 And yet I will "not name it : and yet I care not ; 
 And yet take this again ; and yet I thank you ; 
 Meaning henceforth to trouble vou no more. 
 Speed. And yet you will ; and yet anothej vet. 
 
 [Aside. 
 Vol. What means your ladyship? do you not 
 
 like it ? 
 
 Sil . Yes, yes ; the lines are very quaintly writ : 
 But since unwillingly, take them again ; 
 Say, take them. 
 Vol. Madam, they are for you. 
 Sil. Ay, ay ; you writ them, sir, at my request i 
 EJut I will none of them ; they are for you : 
 i would have had them writ more movingly. 
 Val. Please you ? I'll write your ladyship another. 
 Sil. And, when it's writ, for my sake read it orer : 
 \nd, if it please you, so ; if not, why, so. 
 Vol. If it please me, madam ! \vha"t then? 
 Sil. Why, if it please you, take it for your labour : 
 
 \nd so good morrow, servant 
 
 \Exit Silvia. 
 
 (1) Whipped. 
 (3) Like a scholar. 
 
 (2) A puppet-show, 
 
 Speed. O jest unseen, inscrutable, invisible, 
 A.S a nose on a man's face, cr a weathercock on a 
 
 steeple ! 
 My master sues to her ; and she hath taught her 
 
 suitor, 
 
 :Ie being her pupil, to become her tutor. 
 J excellent device ! was there ever heard a better ? 
 That my master, being scribe, to himself should 
 write the letter ? 
 
 Vol. How now, sir? what are you reasoning 
 with yourself? 
 
 Speed. Nay, I was rhyming ; 'tis you that hare 
 he reason. 
 
 Vol. To do what ? 
 
 Speed. To he a spokesman from madam Silvia. 
 
 Vol. To whom? 
 
 Speed. To yourself: why, she wooei you by a 
 
 Ute. 
 
 Val. What figure? 
 
 Speed. By a letter, I should say. 
 
 VcL Why. she hath not writ to me. 
 
 Speed. What need she, when she hath made you 
 
 rite to yourself? Why, do you riot perceive the 
 est? 
 
 Vat. No, believe me. 
 
 Fpns:!. No believing vou indeed, sir; but did 
 you perceive her earnest ? 
 
 Val. She crave me none, except an ancry word. 
 
 Speed. Why, she hath irfven you a letter. 
 
 Val. That's the letter I writ to her friend 
 
 Speed. And that letter hath she delivered, and 
 there an end. 4 
 
 Val. I would, it were no worse. 
 
 Speed. I'll warrant you, 'tis as well : 
 
 For often you have writ to her ; and the, in 
 
 modesty, 
 Or else for want of idle time, could not again 
 
 rtply, 
 
 14) There's th? cvoclwit a
 
 TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA. 
 
 Jlct II. 
 
 Or fearing else some messenger, that might her 
 
 mind discover, 
 Herself hath taught her love himself to write 
 
 unto her lover. 
 
 All this I speak in print ; for in print I found it. 
 Why muse you, sir ? 'tis dinner-time. 
 
 yd. I have dined. 
 
 Speed. Ay, but hearken, sir : though the catne- 
 leon, Love, can feed on the air, I am one that am 
 nourished by my victuals, and would fain huve 
 meat : 0, be not like your mistress ; be moved, be 
 moved. [Exeunt. 
 
 SC.E.YE //. Verona. Jl room in Julia's house. 
 Enter Proteus and Juiia. 
 
 Pro. Have patience, gentle Julia. 
 
 Jul. I must, where is no remedy. 
 
 Pro. When possibly I can, I will return. 
 
 Jul. If you turn not, you will return the sooner: 
 Keep this remembrance for thy Julia's sake. 
 
 [Giving a ring. 
 
 Pro. Why then we'll make exchange ; here, 
 take you this. 
 
 Jul. And seal the bargain with a holy kiss. 
 
 Pro. Here is my hand for my true constancy ; 
 And when that hour o'er-slips me in the day, 
 Wherein I sigh not, Julia, lor thy sake, 
 The next ensuing hour some fou! mischance 
 Torment me for my love's forgetfulncss ! 
 My father stays my coming : answer not ; 
 The tide is now : nay, nof tne tide of tears ; 
 That tide will stay me longer than 1 should ; 
 
 [Exit Julia. 
 
 Julia, farewell. What I gone without a word ? 
 Ay, so true love should do : it cannot speak ; 
 For truth hath better deeds, than words, to grace it. 
 
 Enter Panthlno. 
 
 Pan. Sir Proteus, you are staid for. 
 Pro. Go ; I come, I come : 
 Alas ! this parting strikes poor lovers dumb. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 SCL'JVE III. The same. A street. Enter 
 Launce, leading a dog. 
 
 Launce, Nay. 'twill he this hour ere I have done 
 keeping; all the kind 1 of the Launces have this 
 very fault : I have received my proportion, like the 
 prodigious son, and am going with Sir Proteus to 
 the Imperial's court. I think, Crab my dog be the 
 sourest-natured dog that lives : my mother weeping, 
 my lather wailing, my sister crying, our maid howl- 
 ing, our cat wringing her hands, and all our house! 
 in a great perplexity, yet did not this cruel-hearted j 
 cur shed one. tear: he is a stone, a very pebble- 
 stone, and has no more pity in him than a clog : a 
 Jew would have wept to have seen our parting ; 
 why, my giandam having no eyes, look you, wept 
 herself blind at my parting. Nay, I'll show you 
 the manner of it : This shot; is my father ; no, this 
 left shoe is my father ; no, no, this left shoe is my 
 mother; nay, that cannot be so neither ; yes, it is 
 it is so : it hath the worser sole : this shoe, with 
 
 the hole in it, is my mother, and this my father : a Sil 'what 
 vengeance on't! there 'tis: now, sir, this start' is my colour? 
 
 so. Now come I to my father ; Father, your blest 
 ing; now should not the shoe speak a word for 
 weeping ; now should I kiss my father ; well, he 
 weeps on : now come I to my mother, (0, that she 
 could speak now !) like a wood 2 woman ; well, I 
 kiss her : why there 'tin ; here's my mother's breath 
 up and down : now come I to my sister ; mark the 
 moan she makes : now the dog all this while sheds 
 not a tear, nor speaks a word ; but see how I lay 
 .he dust with my tears. 
 
 Enter Panthino. 
 
 Pan. Launce, away, away, aboard ; thy master 
 is shipped, and thou art to post after with oars. 
 What's the matter ? why weepest thou, man ? Away, ' 
 
 s ; you will lose the tide, if you tarry any longer. 
 
 Laun. It is no matter if the ty'd were lost ; for it 
 is the unkindest ty'd that ever any man ty'd. 
 
 Pan. What's the unkindest tide ? 
 
 Laun. Why, he tfcat's ty'd here ; Crab, my dojr. 
 
 Pan. Tut, man, I mean thoul't lose the flood ; 
 and, in losing the flood, lose thy voyage ; and, in 
 losing thy voyage lose thy master : and. in losing 
 thy master, lose thy service ; ami, in losing thy 
 service, Why dost thou stop my mouth ! 
 
 Laun. For fear thou should'st lose thy tongue. 
 
 Pan. Where should I lose my tongue? 
 
 Laitn. In thy tale. 
 
 Pan. In thy taii ? 
 
 Laun. Lose the tide, and the voyage, and the 
 master, and the service? The tide! why, man, 
 if the river were dry, I am able to fill it with my 
 tears ; if the wind were down, I could drive the 
 boat with my sighs. 
 
 Pan. Come, come away, man; I was sent to 
 call thee. 
 
 Laun. Sir, call me what thou darest. 
 
 Pan. Wilt thou go ? 
 
 Laun. Well, I will go. [Exeunt. 
 
 SCEJVE IV. Milan. An apartment in the 
 Duks's pa/ace. Enter Valentine, Silvia, Thu- 
 rio, and Speed. 
 
 Si?. Servant ' 
 Fa!. Mistress? 
 
 Speed. Master, Sir Thurio frowns on you. 
 Val. Ay, boy, it's for love. 
 Speed. Not of you. 
 Val. Of my mistress then. 
 Speed. 'Twere good, you knocked him. 
 Sil. Servant, you are sad. 3 
 Val. Indeed, madam, I seem so. 
 JT/w. Seem you that you are not? 
 Val. Haply," I do. 
 77m. So do counterfeits. 
 Val. So do you. 
 
 Thu. What seem I, that I am not ? 
 Val. Wipe. 
 
 Thu. What instance of the contrary? 
 Val. Your folly. 
 
 Thu. And how quote* you my folly? 
 Vol. I quote it in your jerkin. 
 Thu. My jerkin is a doublet. 
 Val. Well, then, I'll double your folly. 
 Thu. How? 
 
 anm-v oir Thm-in ? 
 P7 ' 8irThuno? 
 
 change 
 
 sister ; for, look you, she is as white as a lily, and as 
 small as a wand : this hat is Nan, our maid ; 1 am 
 the dog: no, the dog is himself, and I am the! 
 
 (P Kindred. (2) Crazy, distracted. 
 
 Vai Give him leave, madam ; he is a kind oi 
 
 cameleon. 
 
 (3) Serious. (4) Perhapt. . (*) Obwm.
 
 Scent IV. 
 
 TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA. 
 
 Vol. You have said. sir. 
 
 Tliu. Ay, sir, and done too, for this time. 
 
 Vol. I know it well, sir ; you always end ere you 
 begin. 
 
 SU. A fine volley of words, gentlemen, and quick- 
 ly shot off'. 
 
 Vol. 'Tis indeed, madam ; we thank the 
 giver. 
 
 SU. Who is that, servant ? 
 
 Yd. Yourself, sweet lady ; for you gave the fire : 
 Sir Thurio borrows his wit from your ladyship's 
 looks, and spends what he borrows, kindly in your 
 company. 
 
 Tim. Sir, if you spend word for word with me, 
 I shall make your wit bankrupt. 
 
 Vol. I know it well, sir: you have an exchequer 
 of words, and, I think, no other treasure to give 
 your followers ; for it appears by their bare liveries, 
 that they live by your bare words. 
 
 SU. No more, gentlemen, no more ; here comes 
 my father. 
 
 Enter Duke. 
 
 Duke. Now, daughter Silvia, you are hard beset. 
 Sir Valentine, your father's in good health : 
 What say you to a letter from your friends 
 Of much good news ? 
 
 yd. My lord, I will be thankful 
 
 To any happy messenger from thence. 
 
 Duke. Know you Don Antonio, your country- 
 man? 
 
 Vd. Ay, my good lord, I know the gentleman 
 To be of worth,' and worthy estimation, 
 And not without desert so well reputed. 
 
 Duke. Hath he not a son ? 
 
 Vd. Ay, my good lord ; a son, that well de- 
 serves 
 The honour and regard of such a father. 
 
 Duke. You know him well ? 
 
 yd. I knew him as myself; for from our in- 
 fancy 
 
 We have convers'd, and spent our hours together : 
 And though myself have been an idle truant, 
 Omitting the sweet benefit of time, 
 To clothe mine age with angel-like perfection ; 
 Yet hath Sir Proteus, for that's his name, 
 Made use and fair advantage of his days : 
 His years but young, but his experience old ; 
 His head unmellow'oL but his judgment ripe ; 
 And, in a word (for far behind his worth 
 Come all the praises that I now bestow,) 
 He is complete in feature, and in mind, 
 With all good grace to grace a gentleman. 
 
 Duke. Beshrew 1 me, sir, but, if he make this 
 
 good, 
 
 He is as worthy for an empress' love, 
 As meet to be an emperor's counsellor. 
 Well, sir ; this gentleman is come to me, 
 With commendation from great potentates ; 
 Ami here he means to spend his time awhile : 
 I think, 'tis no unwelcome news to you. 
 
 yd. Should I have wish'd a thing, it had been 
 he. 
 
 Duke. Welcome him then according to -his 
 
 worth; 
 
 Silvia, I speak to you ; and you, Sir Thurio : 
 For Valentine, I need not cite* him to it : 
 I'll send him hither to you presently. [Exit Duke. 
 
 Vd. This is the gentleman, I told your ladyship, 
 Had come along with me, but that his mistress 
 Did hold his eyes lock'd in her crystal looks. 
 
 M HI betide, (2) Incite, 
 
 SU. Belike, that now she hath enfraachu'4 
 
 them 
 Upon some other pawn for fealty. 
 
 yd. Nay, sure, I think, she holds them priso- 
 ners still. 
 SU. Nay, then he should be blind ; and, being 
 
 blind, 
 
 How could he see his way to seek out you ? 
 yd. Why, lady, love hath twenty pair of eye*. 
 Thu. They say, that love hath not an eye at all. 
 Vd. To see such lovers, Thurio, as yomslf ; 
 Upon a homely object love can wink. 
 
 Enter Proteus. 
 
 Si7. Have done, have done ; here comes the 
 gentleman. 
 
 Vd. Welcome, dear Proteus ! Mistress, I be- 
 seech you, 
 Confirm his welcome with some special favour. 
 
 SU. His worth is warrant for his welcome hither, 
 If this be he you oft have wish'd to hear from. 
 
 Vd. Mistress, it is : sweet lady, entertain him 
 To be my fellow-servant to your ladyship. 
 
 SU. Too low a mistress for so high a servant, 
 
 Pro. Not so, sweet lady ; but too mean a servant 
 To have a look of such a worthy mistress. 
 
 Vd. Leave off' discourse of disability : 
 Sweet lady, entertain him for your servant. 
 
 Pro. My duty will I boast of, nothing else. 
 
 SU. And duty never yet did want his meed ; 
 Servant, you are welcome to a worthless mistress. 
 
 Pro. I'll die on him that says so, but yourself. 
 
 SU. That you are welcome ? 
 
 Pro. No ; that you are worthless. 
 
 Enter Servant. 
 
 Ser. Madatn, my lord your father would speak 
 with you. 
 
 SU. I'll wait upon his pleasure. [Exit Servant. 
 Come, Sir Thurio, 
 
 Go with me : Once more, new servant, welcome ; 
 I'll leave you to confer of home affairs ; 
 When you have done, we look to hear from you. 
 
 Pro. We'll both attend upon your ladyship. 
 
 [Exeunt Silvia, Thurio, and Speed. 
 
 Vd. Now, tell me, how do all from whence you 
 came? 
 
 Pro. Your friends are well, and have them much 
 commended. 
 
 Vd. And how do yours ? 
 
 Pro. I left them all in health. 
 
 Vd. How does your lady? and how thrives your 
 love? ? 
 
 Pro. My tales of love were wont to weary you ; 
 I know, youjoy net in a love-discourse. 
 
 Vd. Ay, Proteus, but that life is alter'd now : 
 I have done penance for contemning love ; 
 Whose high imperious thoughts have pumsh'd me 
 With bitter fasts, with penitential groans, 
 With nightly tears, and daily heart-sore sighs ; 
 For, in revenge of my contempt of love, 
 Love hath chas'd sleep from my enthralled eyes, 
 And made them watchers of mine own heart's tor 
 
 row. 
 
 0, gentle Proteus, love's a mighty lord ; 
 And hath so humbled me, as, I confess, 
 There is no wo to his correction, 
 Nor, to his service, no sudh joy on earth ! 
 Now, no discourse, except it be of love : 
 Now can I break my fast, dine, sup, ana sleep, 
 Upon the very naked name of love. 
 
 Pro. Enough j I read your fortune in your ejri ;
 
 TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA. 
 
 Aci It. 
 
 Was this the idol that vpu worship so? 
 
 Vol. Even she ; and is she not a heavenly saint? 
 
 Pro. No ; but she is an earthly paragon. 
 
 Vol. Call her divine. 
 
 Pro. I will not flatter her. 
 
 Vol. O, flatter me ; for love delights in praises. 
 
 Pro. When I was sick, you gave me bitter 
 
 pills ; 
 And I must minister the like to you. 
 
 Vol. Then speak the truth by her ; if not divine, 
 Yet let her be a principality, 
 Sovereign to all the creatures on the earth. 
 
 Pro. Except my mistress. 
 
 Val. Sweet, except not any ; 
 
 Except thou wilt except against my love. 
 
 Pro. Have I not reason to prefer mine own ? 
 
 Val. And I will help thee to prefer her too : 
 She shall be dignified with this nigh honour, 
 To bear my lady's train : lest the base earth 
 Should from her vesture chance to steal a kiss, 
 And, of so great a favour growing proud, 
 Disdain to root the summer-swelling flower, 
 And make rough winter everlasting. 
 
 Pro. Why, Valentine, what braj;gardism is this? 
 
 Val. Pardon me, Proteus : all lean, is nothing 
 To her, whose worth makes other worthies nothing; 
 She is alone. 
 
 Pro. Then let her alone. 
 
 Val. Not for the world : why, man, she is mine 
 
 own; 
 
 And I as rich in having such a jewel, 
 As twenty seas, if all their sand were pearl, 
 The water nectar, and the rocks pure gold. 
 Forgive me, that I do not dream on thee, 
 Because thou seest me dote upon my love. 
 My foolish rival, that her father likes, 
 Only for his possessions are so huge, 
 Is gone with her along ; and I must after, 
 For love, thou know'st, is full of jealousy. 
 
 Pro. But she loves you ? 
 
 Vol. Ay, and we are betroth'd ; 
 
 Nay, more, our marriage hour, 
 With all the cunning manner of our flight, 
 Determin'd of: how I must climb her window ; 
 The ladder made of cords ; and all the means 
 Plotted ; and 'greed on, for my happiness. 
 Good Proteus, go with me to my chamber, 
 In these affairs to nid me with thy counsel. 
 
 Pro. Go on before ; I shall inquire you forth : 
 I must unto the road, to disembark 
 Some necessaries that I needs must use ; 
 And then I'll presently attend you. 
 
 Val. Will you make haste ? 
 
 Pro. I will. " [Exit Val. 
 
 Even as one heat another heat expels, 
 Or as one nail by strength drives out another, 
 So the remembrance of my former love 
 Is by a newer object quite 'forgotten. 
 Is it mine eye, or Valentinus' praise, 
 Her true perfection, or my false transgression, 
 That makes me, reasonless, to reason thus? 
 She's fair: and so is Julia, that I love; 
 That I did love, for now my love is thaw'd ; 
 Which, like a waxen image '<rainst a fire, 
 Bears no impression of the thing it was. 
 Methinks, my zeal to Valentine is cold ; 
 And that I love him not, as I was wont: 
 O ! but I love his lady too, too much ; 
 And that's the reason I love him so little. 
 How shall I dote on her with more advice,' 
 That thus without advice begin to love her ! 
 
 (1) Oa further knowledge. 
 
 Tis but her picture I hare yet beheld, 
 And that hath dazzled my reason's light ; 
 But when I look on her perfections. 
 There is no reason but I shall be blind. 
 If I can check my erring love, I will ; 
 If not, to compass her I'll use my skill. 
 
 [Exit. 
 
 SCENE V. The same. A street. Enter Speed 
 and Launce. 
 
 Speed. Launce ! by mine honesty, welcome to 
 Milan. 
 
 Laun. Forswear not thyself, sweet youth ; for I 
 am not welcome. I reckon this always that a man 
 is never undone, till he be hanged ; nor never wel- 
 come to a place, till some certain shot be paid, and 
 the hostess say, welcome. 
 
 Speed. Come on, you mad-cap, I'll to the ale- 
 house with you presently ; where for one shot of 
 five pence, thou shalt have five thousand welcomes. 
 But, sirrah, how did thy master part with madam 
 Julia. 
 
 Laint. Marry, after they closed in earnest, they 
 parted very fairly in jest. 
 
 Speed. But shall she marry him ? 
 
 Laun. No. 
 
 Speed. How then ? shall he marry her ? 
 
 Laun. No, neither. 
 
 Speed. What, are they broken ? 
 
 Laun. No, they are both as whole as a fish. 
 
 Speed. Why then, how stands the matter with 
 them ? , 
 
 Laun. Marry, thus; when it stands well with 
 him, it stands well with her. 
 
 Speed. What an ass art thou ! I understand thee 
 not. 
 
 Lmm. What a block art thou, that thou canst 
 not ! My staff understands me. 
 
 Speed. What thou say'st ? 
 
 Laun. Ay, and what I do too : look thee, I'll 
 but lean, and my staff understands me. 
 
 Speed. It stands under thee, indeed. 
 
 Laun. Why, stand under and understand is all 
 one. 
 
 Speed. But tell me true, will't be a match ? 
 
 Laun. Ask my do : if he say, ay, it will ; if he 
 say, no, it will ; if he shake his tail, and say no- 
 thing, it will. 
 
 Speed. The conclusion is then, that tt will. 
 
 Laun. Thou shall never get such a secret from 
 me, but by a parable. 
 
 Speed. 'Tis well that I get it so. But, Launce, 
 how say'st thou, that my master is become a nota- 
 ble lover ? 
 
 Laun. I never knew him otherwise. 
 
 Speed. Than how? 
 
 Laun. A notable lubber, as thou reporUst him 
 to be. 
 
 Speed. Why, thou whoreson ass, thou mistakeet 
 me. 
 
 Laim. Why, fool, I meant not thee ; I meant 
 thy master. 
 
 Speed. I tell thee, my master is become a hot 
 lover. 
 
 Laun. Why, I tell thee, I care not though h 
 burn himself in love. If thou wilt go with me to the 
 ale-house, so ; if not, thou art a Hebrew, a Jew, 
 and not worth the name of a Christian. 
 
 Speed. Why? 
 
 Laun. Because thou hast not BO much charity In 
 thee, as to go to the ale-house, with a Chriiitiiui : 
 Wilt thou go ? 
 
 Speed. At tfiy prric, f*rol.
 
 Scene 
 
 TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA. 
 
 | Luc. I do not seek to quench your lore's hoi fire ; 
 SCE.YE ri.The same. Jn apartment in the, But qualify the fire's extreme rajre, 
 
 palace. Enter Proteus. 
 
 Pro. To leave my Julia, shall I be forsworn ; 
 To love fair Silvia, shall I be forsworn; 
 To wrong my friend, I shall be much forsworn ; 
 And even that power, which gave me first my oath, 
 Provokes me to this threefold perjury. 
 Love bade me swear, and love bids me forswear : 
 
 sweet-sugsresting 1 love, if thou hast sinn'd, 
 Teach me. thy tempted subject, to excuse it. 
 At first I did adore a twinkling star, 
 
 But now I worship a celestial sun. 
 
 Unheedful vows mav needfully be broken ; 
 
 And he wants wit, that wants resolved will 
 
 To learn his wit to exchange the bad for better. 
 
 Fie, tie, unreverend tongue ! to call her bad, 
 
 Whose sovereignty so oft thou hast preferr'd 
 
 With twenty thousand soul-confirming oaths. 
 
 1 cannot leave to love, and yet I do ; 
 
 But there I leave to love, where I should love. 
 
 Julia I lose, and Valentine I lose ; 
 
 If I keep them, I needs must lose myself; 
 
 If I lose them, thus find I bv their loss, 
 
 For Valentine, myself; for Julia, Silvia. 
 
 I to myself am dearer than a friend ; 
 
 For love is still more precious in itself: 
 
 And Silvia, witness heaven, that made her fair! 
 
 Shows Julia but n. swarthy Ethiope. 
 
 I will forget that Julia is alive, 
 
 KemembVing that my love to her is dead ; 
 
 And Valentine I'll hold an enemy, 
 
 Aiming at Silvia as a sweeter friend. 
 
 I cannot now prove constant to myself, 
 
 Without some treachery used to Valentine : 
 
 This nizht lie meanethwith a corded ladder 
 
 To climb celestial Silvia's chamber-window ; 
 
 Myself in counsel, his competitor: 2 
 
 Now presently I'll {rive her father notice 
 
 Of their disguising, and pretended 3 flight ; 
 
 Who, all enrag'd, will banish Valen'.ine ; 
 
 For Tnurio, he intends, shall wed his daughter : 
 
 But, Valentine being gone, I'll quickly cross, 
 
 By some sly trick, blunt Thurio's dull proceeding. 
 
 Love, lend me wines to make my purpose swift, 
 
 As thou hast lent rue wit to plot "this drift ! [Exit. 
 
 SCA* VII. Verona. A room in Julia's 
 house. Enter Julia and Lucetta. 
 
 JiiZ. Counsel, Lucetta ; gentle girl, assist me ! 
 And, even in kind love, I do conjure thee, 
 Who art the table wherein all my thoughts 
 Are visibly charactcr'd and engrav'd, 
 To lesson me : and tell me some eood mean, 
 How, with my honour, I may undertake 
 A iournev ti/mv loving Proteus. 
 
 Luc. Alas ! ihe way is wearisome and long. 
 
 Jid. A true-devoted pilgrim is not weary 
 To mcasuro kingdoms with his feeble steps ; 
 Much less shall she, that hath love's win-s to fly ; 
 And when the flight is made to one so dear, 
 Of such divine perfection, as sir Proteus. 
 
 Luc. Better forbear, till Proteus make return. 
 
 Jul. O. know'st thou not, his looks are my soul's 
 
 food / 
 
 Pity the dearth that I have pined in f 
 By'lonffing for that food so long a time. 
 Didst thou but know the inly touch of love, 
 Thou would'st as soon go kindle fire with snow, 
 A* seek to quench the fire of love with words. 
 
 (1) Tempting, (fi) Confederate. (S) IntnaecL 
 
 Ltst it should burn above the bounds of reason. 
 
 Jul. The more thou daia'st* it up, the more it 
 
 burns ; 
 
 The current, that with gentle murmur glides, 
 Thou know'st, being stopp'd, impatiently doth 
 
 rage ; 
 
 But, when his fair course is not hindered, 
 He makes sweet music with the enumell'd etonei, 
 Giving a gentle kiss to every sedge 
 He overtaketh in his pilgrimage ; 
 And so by many winding nooks he strays, 
 With willing sport, to the wild ocean. 
 Then let me go, and hinder not my course : 
 I'll be as patient as a gentle stream, 
 And make a pastime of each weary step, 
 Till the last step have brought me to my love ; 
 And there I'll rest, as, after much turmoil, 4 
 A blessed soul doth in Elysium. 
 
 Luc. But in what habit will you go along? 
 
 Jul. Not like a woman ; for I would prevent 
 The loose encounters of lascivious men : 
 Gentle Lucetta, fit me with such weeds 
 As may beseem some well-reputed page. 
 
 Luc. Why then your ladyship must cut your 
 hair. 
 
 Jul. No, girl ; I'll knit it up in silken strings, 
 With twenty odd-conceited true-love knots : 
 To be fantastic may become a youth 
 Of greater time than I shall show to be. 
 
 Luc. What fashion, madam, shall I make your 
 breeches ? 
 
 Jul. That fits as well, as ' tell me, good my 
 
 lord, 
 
 What compass will you wear your farthingale 7* 
 Why, even that fashion thou best lik'st, Lucetta. 
 
 Luc. You must needs have them with a cod- 
 piece, madam. 
 
 Jul. Out, out, Lucetta .' that will be ill-favourM. 
 
 Lac. A round hose, madam, now's not worth a 
 
 pin, 
 Unless YOU have a cod-piece to stick pins on. 
 
 Jul. Lucetta, as thou lov'st me, let me have 
 What thou think'st meet, and is most mannerly : 
 But tell me, wench, how will the world repute me, 
 For undertaking so unstaid a journey ? 
 I fear me, it will make me scandaliz'd. 
 
 Luc. If you think so, then stay at home, and go 
 not. 
 
 Jul. Nay, that I will not. 
 
 Luc. Then never dream on infamy, but go. 
 If Proteus like your journey, when you come. 
 No matter who's displeas'd, when you are gone ! 
 I fear rne, he will scarce be pleas'd withal. 
 
 Jul. That is the least, Lucetta, of my (ear: 
 A thousand oaths, an ocean of his teara, 
 And instances as infinite of love, 
 Warrant me welcome to my Proteus. 
 
 Luc. All these are servants to deceitful men. 
 
 Jul. Base men, that use them to so base effect ! 
 But truer stars did govern Proteus' birth ; 
 His words are bonds, his oaths are oraclea 
 His love sincere, his thoughts immaculate ; 
 His tears, pure messengers sent from his heart j 
 His heart as far from fraud, as heaven from earth, 
 
 Luc. Pray heaven, he prove so, when you eouia 
 to him! 
 
 J\d. Now, as thou lov'st me, do him not that 
 
 wrong, 
 To bear a hard opinion of hie truth : 
 
 (4) C!c*t, (6) Treybla,
 
 TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA. 
 
 Act III. 
 
 Only deserve my IOTP, by loving him ; 
 
 Ana presently go with me to my chamber, 
 
 To take a note of what I stand in need of, 
 
 To furnish me upon my longing' journey. 
 
 All that is mine I leave at thy dispose, 
 
 Mv goods, my lands, my reputation ; 
 
 Only in lieu thereof, despatch me hence : 
 
 Come, answer not, but to it presently ; 
 
 I am impatient of my tarriance. [Exeunt. 
 
 ACT III. 
 
 SC.YE /.Milan, .fin anti-room in Ike Duke's 
 palace. Enter Duke, Thurio, and Proteus. 
 
 Duke. Sir Thurio, give us leave, I pray, awhile ; 
 We have some secrets to confer about. 
 
 Enter Valentine. 
 
 [Exit Thurio. 
 Now, tell me, Proteus, what's your will with me ? 
 
 Pro. My gracious lord, that which I would dis- 
 cover, 
 
 The law of friendship bids me to conceal : 
 But, when I call to mind your gracious favours 
 Done to me, undeserving as I am, 
 My dutv pricks me on to uttrr that 
 Which else no worldly -rood should draw from rae. 
 Know, worthy prince^ Sir Valentine, my friend, 
 This night intends to steal away your daughter ; 
 Myself am one made privy to the plot 
 I know you have determin'd to bestow her 
 On Thurio, whom your gentle daughter hates ; 
 And should she thus t>e stolen away from you, 
 It would be much vexation to your a<re. 
 Thus, for my duty's sake, I niiher chose 
 To cross my friend in his intended drift, 
 Than, by concealing if. heap on your head 
 A pack of sorrows, which would prf:ss you down, 
 Being unprevented, to your timeless grave. j Now therefore, would'I have thee to my tutor 
 
 Duke. Proteus, I thank tbee for thine honestcare : \ (1 , or | onff a?one I have forgot to court : 
 Which to requite, command me while I live. - 
 
 This love of theirs myself have, often seen, 
 
 asleep 
 
 Duke. Sir Valentine, whither away so fast? 
 
 yd. Please it your grace, there is a messenger 
 That stays to bear my letters to my friend*, 
 And 1 am going to deliver them 
 
 Duke. Be they of much import ? 
 
 V'al. The tenor of them doth but signify 
 My health, and happy being at your court. 
 
 Duke. Nay, then no matter ; stay with me 
 
 awhile ; 
 
 I am to break with thee of some affairs, 
 That touch me near, wherein thou must be secret 
 'Tis not unknown to thee, that I have sought 
 To match my friend, sir Thurio, to my daughter. 
 
 Vol. I know it well, my lord ; and, sure, the 
 
 match 
 Were rich and honourable ; besides, the gentle- 
 
 man 
 
 Is full of virtue, bounty, worth, and qualities 
 Beseeming such a wife as your fair daughter : 
 Cannot your grace win her to fancy him ? 
 
 Duke. No, trust me ; she is peevish, sullen, fro- 
 
 ward, 
 
 Proud, disobedient, stubborn, lacking duty ; 
 Neither regarding that she is my child, 
 Nor fearing me as if I were har father ; 
 And, may I say to thee, this pride of hers 
 Upon advice, hath drawn my love from her ; 
 And, where I thought the remnant of mine age 
 Should have been eherish'd by her child-like duty, 
 I now am full resolv'd to take a wife, 
 And turn her out to who will fake her in : 
 Then let her beauty be her wedding-dower ; 
 For me and my possessions she esteems not. 
 
 Vol. What would your grace have me to do m 
 this ? 
 There is a lady, sir, i:i Milan, here, 
 
 Whom I afiect ; but she is nice, and coy, 
 And nought esteems my aged eloquence : 
 
 Haply, when thcv hare judged me fast a 
 And oftentimes have purpos'd to forbid 
 Sir Valentine her company, and my court : 
 But, fearing lest my jealous aim 5 might err, 
 And so, unworthily, di.tjrrace the man, 
 (A rashness that lever jet have shurm'd,) 
 I srave him gentle look? ; thereby to find 
 That whiclf thyself hast now disclos'd to me. 
 And, that thou may'st pprrr.be my fear of this, 
 Knowing that tender youth is soon suggested, 1 
 I nightly lodge her in an upper tower, 
 The key whereof myself have ever kept ; 
 And thence she cannot be convey'd away. 
 
 Pro. Know, noble lord, they have devis'd 
 
 mean 
 
 How he her chamber-window wiil ascend, 
 And with a corded ladder fetch her down ; 
 For which the youthful lover now is i-one, 
 And this way comes he- with it presently ; 
 Where, if it please you. you may intercept him. 
 But, good rny lord, do it so cunningly, 
 That my discovery be not aimed- 1 at ; 
 For love of you, not hate unto my friend, 
 Hath made'me publisher of this pretence.* 
 
 Duke. Upon mine honour, he shall never know 
 That I had any light from thee of this. 
 
 Pro. Adieu, my lord ; sir Valentine is coming. 
 
 [Exit. 
 
 (I) Longed for. (2) Guow, (3) Tempted 
 
 Besides, the fashion of the time is chang*d ;) 
 How, and which way I may bestow myself, 
 "o }/K regarded in her sun-ljright rye. 
 
 I'al. Win her with iritis, if she respect not words ; 
 r>umb jewels often, in their silent kind, 
 More than quick words, do move a woman's mind. 
 
 Diil:e. But she did scorn a present that I sent 
 her. 
 
 Yd. A woman sometimes scorns what best con- 
 tents her. 
 
 Send her another ; never sive her o'er ; 
 For scorn at first makes after-love the more. 
 If she do frown, 'tis not in hate of yon, 
 But rather to beget more love in you : 
 If she do chide, 'tis not to have yon gone ; 
 For why, the fools are mad, if left alone. 
 Take no repulse, whatever she doth say ; 
 For, get yon gone, she doth not mean, aic ay : 
 Flatter, and praise, commend, extol their graces ; 
 Though ne'er so black, say, thev have angels' face*. 
 That man that hath a tongue, I say, is no man, 
 If with his tongue he cannot win a'womarx 
 
 Duke. But. she, I mean, is promis'd by her 
 
 friends 
 
 Unto a youthful gentleman of worth ; 
 And kept severely from resort of men, 
 That no man hath access by day to her 
 
 Val. Why then I would resort to her by night. 
 
 Duke. Aye, but the doors be lock'd. and keys 
 kept safe, 
 
 (4} Guessed, 
 
 (5) Design.
 
 Stnt I. 
 
 TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA. 
 
 That no man hith recourse to her by night. 
 
 Vol. What lets, 1 but one may enter at her win- 
 dow? 
 
 Duke. Her chamber is aloft, far from the ground ; 
 And built so shelving that one cannot cliinb it 
 Without apparent hazard of his life. 
 
 Vol. And why not death, rather than liriny 
 torment / 
 
 What light is light, if Silvia be not seen? 
 
 To cas r _ 
 
 Would serve to sc-.~ ,...,.... 
 So bold Leander would adventure it 
 
 Duke. Now, as thou art a gentleman of blood, 
 Advise me where I may have such a ladder. 
 
 wr .1 TTI I'j ?i <* 
 
 There is no music in the nightingale ; 
 Unless I look on Silvia in the day, 
 There is no day for rne to look upon : 
 
 Vol. When would you use it? prav, sir, tell me She is iny essence ; and I leave to be, 
 
 thnt. If I be not by her fair influence 
 
 Duke. This very night ; for love is like a child, Fostcr'd, illuinin'd, chcrish'd. kept ali 
 That longs for everv thins; that he can come by. I % not death, to fly his deadly doom : 
 fat. Bv seven o'clock I'll get you such a ladder. I Tarry I here, I but attend on death ; 
 Duke. But, hark thee ; I will "so to her alone ; But, fly I hence, I fly away from life. 
 How shall I best convey the ladder thither ? 
 
 Vol. It will be light, my lord, that you may Enter Proteus and Launce. 
 
 bear it 
 
 Under a cloak, that is of any lexicon. 
 Duke. A cloak as long as thine will serve the 
 
 turn ? 
 Vol. Ay, my good lord. 
 
 Then let me see thy cloak : 
 
 I'll get me one of such another length. 
 
 Vd. Why, any cloak will serve the turn, my 
 lord. 
 
 Duke. How shall I fashion me to wear a cloak ? 
 I pray thee, let me feel thy cloak upon me. 
 What letter is this same ? What'i iierc To Silvia 1 
 And here an engine fit for my proceeding ! 
 I'll be so bold to break the seal for or.ut. [reads. 
 
 .VM thoughts do haibour imlh my Sileia nightly; 
 
 ,1:ul slaves they are to me, that send them flying : 
 0, could their master come and go ax liyhthi, 
 
 Himself would lodge, where senseless they are 
 
 iwi%. 
 My herald thought* in thy pure bosom rest them, 
 
 WtSf I, their L'iiiy, thai hither them importune, 
 Do curse the grace' that with such grace hnth' 
 
 Pro. Run, boy, run, run, and seek him out. 
 
 Lam. So-ho! so-ho! 
 
 Pro. What seest thou? 
 
 Laun. Him we go to find ; there's not a hail 
 
 blessed them, 
 Beca'ise mi/self do irant my .tenants'' fortune : 
 I curse myself, f i:f they are sent b>j me, 
 That theif should harbour whtre their lord shatild 
 
 be. 
 
 What's here ? 
 Silvia, this night I will enfranchise thee : 
 
 Tis so: and here's the ladder for the purpose. 
 
 Why, Phaeton (for tliou art Merops' son,) 
 
 Wilt thou aspire to guide the heavenlv car, 
 
 And with thy wring folly burn the world ? 
 
 Wilt thou reach stars, because they shine on thee ? 
 
 Go, base intruder ! overweening slave . 
 
 Bestow thy fawning smiles on equal mates ; 
 
 And think, my patience, more than thy desert, 
 
 Is privilege for thy departure hence : 
 
 Thank me for this, more than for all the favours, 
 
 Which, all too much, I have bestow'd on thee. 
 
 But if thou linger in my territories, 
 
 Longer than swiftest expedition 
 
 Will give thee time to leave oar royal court, 
 
 By heaven, my wrath shall far exceed the love 
 
 I ever bore my daughter, or thyself. 
 
 Be gone, I will not hear thy vain excuse, 
 
 But, as thou lov'st thy life, make speed from 
 
 on's head, but 'tis a. Valentine. 
 Pro. Valentine? 
 Yd. No. 
 
 Pro. Who then ? his spirit ? 
 Vol. Neither. 
 Pro. What then ? 
 Vol. Nothing. 
 
 Lmm. Can nothing speak? master, shall I strike? 
 Pro. Whom would'st thou strike ? 
 Laun. Nothing. 
 Pru. Villain, forbear. 
 Laun. Why, sir, I'll strike nothing: I pray 
 
 you, 
 Pro. Sirrah, I say, forbear ; friend Valentine, a 
 
 word. 
 1'al. My ears are stopp'd, and cannot hear 
 
 good news 
 
 So much of bad already hath pofsess'd them. 
 Pro. Then in dumb silence will I bury mine, 
 
 heiice. 
 
 Duke. 
 
 M) Hinders. 
 
 For they arc harsh, untunablc, and bad. 
 
 Vol. la Silvia dead ? 
 
 Pro. No, Valentine. 
 
 Vol. No Valentine, indeed, for sacred Silvia! 
 Hath she forsworn me ? 
 
 Pro. No, Valentine. 
 
 VaL No Valentine, if Silvia hare forsworn 
 
 me ! 
 What is your news? 
 
 Laun. Sir, there's a proclamation that you are 
 vnnish'd. 
 
 Pro. That thou art banish'd, O, fliat's the 
 
 news ; 
 From hence, from Silvia, and from me thy friend. 
 
 * at. O, I have fed upon this wo already, 
 And now excess of it will make me surfeit. 
 Uoth Silvia know that I am banish'd ? 
 ,P\ Ay, ay; and she hath ofler'd to the doom 
 (\\ men, unrcvers'd, stands in effectual force) 
 A sea of melting pearl, which come call tears : 
 Those at her father's churlish feet she tender'd ; 
 With them, upon her knees, her humble self; 
 Wringing her hands, whose whiteness so became 
 
 them, 
 
 As if but now they waxed pale for wo 
 But neither bended knees, pure hands held up. 
 Sad sighs, deep groans, nor silver-shedding tear 
 Could penetrate her uncompassionatc sire: 
 But Valentine, if h be ta'en, must die.
 
 TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA. 
 
 Jet III. 
 
 Besides, her intercession chaTd him so, 
 When she for thy repeal was suppliant, 
 That to close prison he commanded her, 
 With many bitter threats of 'biding there. 
 
 Vol. No more ; unless the next word that thou 
 
 spcak'st, 
 
 Hare some malignant power upon my life : 
 If so, I pray thee, breathe it in mine ear, 
 As ending anthem of my endless dolour. 1 
 
 Pro. Cease to lament for that thou canst not 
 
 help, 
 
 And study help for that which thou lament'st. 
 Time is the nurse and breeder of all good, 
 llure if thou stay ? thou canst not see thy love ; 
 Besides, thy staying vrill abridge thy life. 
 lino;', i.i n liver's staff; walk hence with that, 
 And manage it against despairing thoughts. 
 T'IV letters may fie here, though thou art hence ; 
 Which, being writ to ms, shall be delivcr'd 
 Even in the milk-white bosom of thy love. 
 The time now serves not to expostulate: 
 f'oroe, I'll convey thee through the city-gate ; 
 And, ere 1 part with tiiee, confer at large 
 Of all thnt may concern thy love-affairs : 
 A* thou lov'nt'Silvia, though not for thyself, 
 Regard thy danger, and along with me. 
 
 Vol. I pray thee, Launce, an if thoa seest my 
 
 bov, 
 Bid him make haste, and meet me at the north srate. 
 
 Pro. Uo, sirrah, find him out. Come, Valentine. 
 
 Vai. ray dear Silvia ! hapless Valentine ! 
 
 [Exeunt Valentine and Proteus. 
 
 Latin. I am but a fool, look you ; and yet I have 
 the wit to think, my master is a kind of knave : 
 hut that's all one, if he be but one knave. He 
 
 (grandmother : this proves, that, thou canst not read. 
 
 Speed. Come, fool, come : try me in thy paper. 
 
 Latin. There ; and Saint Nicholas* be thy 
 speed ! 
 
 Speed. Item, She brews good ale. 
 
 Laun. And thereof comes the proverb, Blow- 
 ing of your heart, you brew good ale. 
 
 Speed. Item, bhe can sere. 
 
 Laun. That's as much as to say, Can she so 7 
 
 Speed. Item, She can knit. 
 
 Laun. What need a man care for a stock with 
 a wench, when she can knit him a stock ? 
 
 Speed. Item, She can icush and scour. 
 
 Lav.n. A special virtue ; for then she need not 
 be washed and scoured. 
 
 Speed. Item, She can spin. 
 
 Laun. Then may I set the world on wheels 
 when she can spin for her living. 
 
 Speed. Item, She hath many nameless virtt'ts. 
 
 Lann. That's as much as to say, bastard virtues ; 
 that, indeed, know not their fatlicrs, and therefore 
 have no names. 
 
 Speed. Here follow her rices. 
 
 Latin. Close at the heels of her virtues. 
 
 Speed. Item. She is not to be kissed fasting, in 
 respect of her breath. 
 
 Lann. Well, that fault may be mended with a 
 breakfast: read on. 
 
 Speed. Item, She halh a sweet mouth. 
 
 Laujt. That makes amends for her your breath. 
 
 Speed. Item, She doth talk in her sleep. 
 
 Laun. It's no matter for that, so she sleep not in 
 her talk. 
 
 Speed. Item, She is slow in words. 
 
 Laun. O villain, that set this down amoncr her 
 
 i m _ i- _i *_ -- i 
 
 lives not. now, that knows ms to be in love : yet I \ vices! To be slow in words, is a woman's only 
 om in love; but a team of horse shall not pluck i virtue: I pray thee, out with't; and place it lor 
 that from me ; nor who 'tis I love, and yet 'tis a her chief virtue. 
 
 woman: but that woman, I will not tell myself ; 
 and yet 'tis a milk-maid : yet 'tis not a maid, for 
 sh& h'lth had gossips : yet 'tis a maid, for she is her 
 master's maid, nnd serves for wages. She hath 
 more qualities than a water-spaniel, which is 
 much in a bare Christian. Here is the cat-log 
 [luUin% out a paper] of her conditions. Imprimis, 
 She can fetch and carry. Why, a horse can do 
 no more ; nay, a horse cannot fetch, but only car- 
 
 Speed. Item, She is proud. 
 
 Laun. Out with that too ; it was Eve's legacy, 
 and cannot be ta'en from her. 
 
 Speed. Item, She hath no tteth. 
 
 Laun. I care not for that neither, because I love 
 crusts. 
 
 Speed. Item, She is curst. 
 
 Laun. Well ; the best is, she hath no teeth to 
 bite. 
 
 rv; therefore^ is she better than a jade. Item,! Speed. Item, She will often praise her liqnv. 
 She can milk; look you, a sweet virtue iu a maid Laun. If her liquor be pood, she shall: il she 
 with clean hands. will not. I will ; for good things should be praised. 
 
 Speed. Item, She is too liberal.* 
 
 Enter Speed. Laun. Of her tongue she cannot ; for that's writ 
 
 down she is slow of: of her purse she shall net ; foi 
 that I'll keep shut: now, of anolhtr thing she may 
 * and that I cannot help. Well, proceed. 
 
 Speed. How now, Signior Launce ? what news 
 with your mastership ? 
 
 Laun. With my master's ship ? why, it is at sea. 
 
 Speed. Well, your old vice still ; mistake the 
 word : what news then in your paper ? 
 
 I/ii*ii. The blackest 'news that ever thou 
 heard'st. 
 
 Speed. Why, man. how black ? 
 
 Laun. Why, as black as ink. 
 
 Speed. Let me read them. 
 
 Laun. Fie on thee, jolt-head; thou canst not 
 read. 
 
 Speed. Thou liest, I can. 
 
 Laun. I will try thee ; tell me this : who begot 
 thee? 
 
 Speed. Marry, the son of my grandfather. 
 
 Laun. illiterate loiterer ! it was the son of thy 
 
 M) Grief. 
 
 (2) St. Nichola? presided over young scholars. , 
 
 Speed. Item, She hath more hair than iril, mnl 
 more faults than hairs, and more wealth than 
 fault?. 
 
 Laun. Stop there; I'll have her: she was mine, 
 and not mine, twice or thrice in that last article : 
 rehearse that once more. 
 
 Speed. Item, She halh more hair than wit, 
 
 Laun. More hair than wit, it may be ; I'll 
 prove it: the cover of the salt hides the salt, and 
 therefore it is more than the salt ; the hair that 
 covers the wit, is more than the wit ; for the greater 
 hides the less. What's next ? 
 
 Speed. *lnd more faults than hairs, 
 
 Laun. That's monstrous : O, that that were out ! 
 
 Speed, dnd more wealth than faults. 
 
 Laun. Why, that word makes the fault* gra- 
 
 (3) Licentious in language.
 
 TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA, 
 
 ek>us :' well, 111 hare her: and if it be a match, as 
 nothing is impossible, 
 
 Speed. What then? 
 
 Lawn. Why, then I wiU te!! thee, that thy 
 master stars for thee at the north gate. 
 
 Speed. For me ? 
 
 Laim. For thee? ay; wno art thou? he hath 
 etaid for a better man than thee. 
 
 Speed. And must I go to him ? 
 
 Lann. Thou must run to him, for thou hast staid 
 so long, that, going will scarce serve the turn. 
 
 your 
 
 Upeed. Why didst not tell me sooner ? 'pox of 
 rur love-letters ! [Exit. 
 
 Laun. Now will he be swinged for reading my 
 letter : an unmannerly slave, that will thnutnim- 
 
 By aught that I can speak hi his dispraise, 
 She shall not long continue love to him. 
 But say, this weed her love from Valentine, 
 It follows not that she will love sir Thurio. 
 Tliu. Therefore, as you unwind her IOTC from 
 
 him, 
 
 Lest it should ravel, and be good to none, 
 You must provide to bottom it on me : 
 Which must be done, by praising me as much 
 As vou in worth dispraise sir Valentine. 
 Duke. And, Proteus, we dare trust you in thia 
 
 kind; 
 
 Because we know, on Valentine's report, 
 You are already love's firm votary, 
 And cannot soon revolt and change your mind. 
 
 lu 
 
 self into secrets ! I'll after, to rejoice iu the boy's Upon tin's warrant shall you have access, 
 correction. [Exit, ['where you with Silvia may confer at large j 
 
 For she is lumpish, heavy, melancholy, 
 
 SCT.YE II. The same. .3 room in the Duke's 
 
 palace., 
 bind. 
 
 Enter Duke and Thurio ; Proteus 6e- 
 
 Duke. Sir Thurio, fear not, but that she will love 
 
 you. 
 Now Valentine is banish'd from her sight. 
 
 Thu. Since his exile she hath despis'd me most, 
 Forsworn my company, and rail'd at me, 
 That I am desperate of obtaining her. 
 
 Duke. This weak impress of love, is as a figure 
 Trench'd' 2 in ice ; which with an hour's heat 
 Dissolves to water, and doth lose his form. 
 A little tune will melt her frozen thoughts, 
 And worthless Valentine shall be forgot. '"S 
 How now, sir Proteus ? Is your countryman, 
 According to our proclamation, gone / 
 
 Pro. Gone, my good lord. 
 
 Duke. My daughter takes his oing grievously. 
 
 Pro. A little time, my lord, will kifl that grief. 
 
 Duke. So I believe ; 'but Thurio thinks not so. 
 Proteus, the good conceit I hold of thee 
 (For thou hast shown some sign of good desert,) 
 Makes me the better to confer with thee. 
 
 Pro. Longer than I prove loyal to your grace, 
 Let me not live to look upon your grace. 
 
 Duke. Thou know'st, how willingly I would effect 
 The match between sir Thurio and my daughter. 
 
 Pro. I do, my lord. 
 
 Duke. And also, I think, thou art not ignorant 
 How she opposes her against my will. 
 
 Pro. She did, my lord, when Valentine was here. 
 
 Duke. Ay, and perversely she perseveres so. 
 What might we do, to make the g_irl forget 
 The love of Valentine, and love sir Thurio ? ,*". 
 
 Pro. The best way is to slander Valentine 
 With falsehood, cowardice, and poor descent ; 
 Three things that women highly hold in hate. 
 
 Duke. Ay, but she'll think, that it is spoke in 
 hate. 
 
 Pro. Ay ? if his enemy deliver it : 
 Therefore" it must, with circumstance, be spoken 
 By one, whom she esteemeth as his friend. 
 
 Duke. Then you must undertake to slander him. 
 
 Pro. And that, my lord, I shall be loth to do . 
 'Tis an ill office for a gentleman ; 
 Especially, against his very friend. 
 
 Duke. Where your good word cannot advantage 
 
 him, 
 
 Your slander never can endamage him ; 
 Therefore the office is indifferent, 
 Being entreated to it by your friend. 
 
 Pro. You have prevail'd, my lord : if I can do it, 
 
 (I) Graceful. (2) Cut, . (3) Bird-lime. 
 
 And, for your friend's sake, will be glad of you ; 
 Where you may temper her, by your persuasion, 
 To hate young Valentine, and love my friend. 
 
 Pro. As much as I can do, I will efaect : 
 But you, sir Thurio, are not sharp enough ; 
 Vou must lay lime, 1 to tangle her desires, 
 By wailful sonnets, whose composed rhymes 
 Should be full Draught with serviceable vows. 
 
 Duke. Ay, muclithe force of heaven-bred poesy. 
 
 Pro. Sav, that upon the altar of her beauty 
 You sacrifice your tears, your sighs, your heart : 
 Write till your ink be dry ; and with your tears 
 Moist it again ; and frame some feeling line, 
 That may discover such integrity : 
 For Orpheus' lute was strung with poet's sinews ; 
 Whose golden touch could soften steel and stones, 
 Make tigers tame, and huge leviathans 
 Forsake unsounded deeps to dance on sands. 
 After your dire-lamenting elegies, 
 Visit by night your lady's chamber-window 
 With some sw_eet concert : to their instruments 
 Tune a deploring dump ; 4 the night's dead silence 
 Will well become such sweet complaining griev- 
 ance. 
 This, or else nothing, will inherit her". 
 
 Duke. This discipline shows thou hast been in 
 love. 
 
 Thu. And thy advice this night I'll put in prac- 
 tice: 
 
 Therefore, sweet Proteus, my direction-giver, 
 Let us into the city presently 
 To sort 6 some gentlemen well skill'd in music 
 I have a sonnet, that will serve the turn, 
 To give the onset to thy good advice. 
 
 Duke. About it, gentlemen. 
 
 Pro. We'll wait upon your grace till after supper, 
 And afterward determine our'proceedings. 
 
 Duke, Even now about it ; I will pardon you. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 ACT IV. 
 
 SCEJfE I. d forest, near Mantua. Enter 
 certain Out-laws. 
 
 1 Out. Fellows, stand fast : I see a. passenger. 
 Z Out. If there be ten, shrink not, out down 
 with 'em. 
 
 Enter Valentine and Speed. 
 
 3 Out. Stand, sir, and throw us that you hare 
 about you ; 
 
 (4) Mournful elegy. (5) Choose out*
 
 TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA. 
 
 ActlY. 
 
 If not, we'll make you sit, and rifle you. 
 
 Speed. Sir, we are undone ! these are the villains 
 That all the travellers do fear so much. 
 
 Vol. My friends, 
 
 1 Out . That's not so, sir ; we are your enemies. 
 
 2 Out. Peace ; we'll hear him. 
 
 3 Out . Ay, by my beard, will we ; 
 For he's a proper' man. 
 
 Vol. Then know, that I have little wealth to lose; 
 A man I am, cross'd wtyh adversity : 
 M v riches are these poor habiliments, 
 Of which if you should here disfurnish me, 
 You take the sum and substance that I have. 
 
 2 Out. Whither travel you ? 
 
 Vol. To Verona. 
 
 1 Out. Whence came you ? 
 
 Vol. From Milan. 
 
 S Out. Have you long sojourn'd there ? 
 
 Vol. Some sixteen months ; and longer might 
 
 have staid, 
 If crooked fortune had not thwarted me. 
 
 1 Out. What, were you banish'd thence ? 
 Vol. I was. 
 
 2 Out. For what offence ? 
 
 Yd. For that which now torments me to rehearse: 
 I kill'd a man, whose death I much repent ; 
 But yet I slew him manfully in fight, 
 Without false vantage, or base treachery. 
 
 1 Out. Why ne'er repent it, if it were done so : 
 But were you banish'd for so small a fault ? 
 
 Vol. I was, and held me glad of such a doom. 
 
 1 Out. Have you the tongues ? 2 t 
 
 Vol. My youthful travel therein made me happy; 
 Or else I often had been miserable. 
 
 S Out. By the bare scalp of Robin Hood's fat 
 
 friar, 
 This fellow were a king^ for our wild faction. 
 
 1 Out. We'll have him : sirs, a word. 
 Speed. Master, be one of them ; 
 
 It is an honourable kind of thievery. 
 Vol. Peace, villain ! 
 Out. Tell us this : have you any thing to take 
 
 to? 
 Vol. Nothing, tut my fortune. 
 
 3 Out. Know then, that some of us are gentle- 
 
 men, 
 
 Such as the fury of ungovern'd youth 
 Thrust from the company of awful 3 men : 
 Myself was from Verona banished, 
 For practising to steaj away a lady, 
 An heir, and near allied unto the duke. 
 
 2 Out. And I from Mantua, for a gentleman, 
 Whom, in my mood, 4 1 stabb'd unto the heart, 
 
 1 Out. And I, for such like petty crimes as 
 
 these. 
 
 But to the purpose (for we cite our faults, 
 That they may holdexcus'd our lawless lives,) 
 And, partly, seeing you are beautified 
 With goodly shape ; and by your own report 
 A linguist ; and a man of such perfection, 
 As we do in our quality much want ; 
 
 2 Out. Indeed, because you are a banish'd man, 
 Therefore, above the rest, we parley to you : 
 
 Are you content to be our general 7 
 
 To make a virtue of necessity, 
 
 And live, as we do, in this wilderness ? 
 
 Out. What say'st thou ? wilt thou be of our 
 
 consort? 
 
 t*ay. ay, and be the captain of us all : 
 We'll do thee homage, and be rul'd by thee, 
 
 (1) Well-looking. 
 (S) Lawful. 
 
 {2) Languages. 
 
 ^4) Anger, resentment. 
 
 Love thee as our commander, and our king. 
 
 1 Out. But if thou scorn ourcourtesy. thou diett. 
 
 2 Out. Thou shalt not live to brag wnai we aa .'e 
 
 ofler'd. 
 
 Vol. I take your offer, and will live with you ; 
 Provided that you do no outrages 
 On silly women, or poor passengers. 
 
 3 Out. No, we detest such vile base practices. 
 Come, go with us, we'll bring theeto our crews, 
 And show thee all the treasure we have got ; 
 Which, with ourselves, all rest at thy dispose. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE II. Milan. Court of the palace. JE/i- 
 ter Proteus. 
 
 Pro. Already have I been false to Valentine, 
 And now I must be as unjust to Thurio. 
 Under the colour of commending him, 
 I have access my own love to prefer ; 
 But Silvia is too fair, too true, too holy, 
 To be corrupted with my worthless gifts. 
 When I protest true loyalty to her, 
 She twits me with my falsehood to my friend ; 
 When to her beauty I commend my vows, 
 She bids me think, how I have been forsworn 
 In breaking faith with Julia whom I iov'd : 
 And, notwithstanding all her sudden quips,* 
 The least whereof would quell a lover's hope, 
 Yet, spaniel-like, the more she spurns my love, 
 The more it grows and fawneth on her still. 
 But here comes Thurio : now must we to her win- 
 dow, 
 And give some evening music to her ear. 
 
 Enter Thurio, and musicians. 
 
 Tku. How now, sir Proteus ? are you crept 
 before us ? 
 
 Pro. Ay, gentle Thurio; for, you know, that 
 
 love 
 Will creep in service where it cannot go. 
 
 Thu. Ay, but, I hope, sir. that you love not here. 
 
 Pro. Sir, but I do ; or else I would be hence. 
 
 Thu. Whom? Silvia? 
 
 Pro. Ay. Silvia for your sake. 
 
 Thu. I thank you for your own. Now, gentle- 
 men, 
 Let's tune, and to it lustily awhile. 
 
 Enter Host, at a distance; and Julia in boy 1 * 
 clothes. 
 
 Host. Now, my young guest ! methinks you're 
 allycholly ; I pray you, why is it ? 
 
 Jul. Marry, mine host, because I cannot be 
 merry. 
 
 Host. Come, we'll have you merry: I'll bring 
 you where you shall hear music, and see the gen- 
 tleman that you ask'd for. 
 
 Jul. But shall I hear him speak ? 
 
 Host. Ay, that you shall. 
 
 Jul. That will be music. [Music plavt 
 
 Host. Hark! hark! 
 
 Jul. Is he among these ? 
 
 Host. Ay : but peace, let's hear 'em. 
 
 SONG. 
 
 Who is Silvia ? What is she, 
 That all our swains commend her J 
 
 Holy, fair, and v;ise is she; 
 
 The heavens such grace did lend her t 
 
 That she might admired be. 
 
 (5) Passionate reproaches.
 
 Seme III. 
 
 TWO GENTLEMEN OP VERONA, 
 
 It she kind, she i3 fair ? ' 
 
 For beauty lives with kindness : 
 Love doth to her eyes repair, 
 
 To help him of his blindness ; 
 And, being help'd, inhabits there. 
 
 Then to Silvia let us sing, 
 
 That Silvia is excelling ; 
 She excels each mortal thing, 
 
 Upon the dull earth dwelling. 
 To her let us garlands bring. 
 
 Host. How now ? are you sadder than you were 
 
 before ? 
 
 How do vou, man ? the music likes you not. 
 Jul. You mistake ; the musician likes me not. 
 Host. Why, my pretty youth ? 
 . He plays false, father. 
 
 Jid. 
 
 Host. How 
 
 out of tune on the strings ? 
 
 Jul. Not so ; but yet so false that he grieves my 
 verv heart-strings. 
 
 Host. You have a quick ear. 
 
 Jul. Ay, I would I were deaf! it makes me hare 
 a slow heart. 
 
 Host. I perceive, you delight not in music. 
 
 Jul. Not a whit, when it jars so. 
 
 Host. Hark, what fine change is in the music ! 
 
 Jul. Av ; that change is the spite. 
 
 Host. You would have them always play but 
 one thin" ? 
 
 Jul. I would always have one play but one 
 
 thing. 
 
 But, host, doth this sir Proteus, that we talk on, 
 Often resort unto this gentlewoman ? 
 
 Host, I tell you what Launce, his man, told me, 
 he loved her out of all nick. 1 
 
 Jid. Where is Launce ? 
 
 Host. Gone to seek his dog; which, to-morrow, 
 by his master's command, he must carry for a 
 present to his lady. 
 
 Jul, Peace ! stand aside ! the company parts. 
 
 Pro, Sir Thurio, fear not you ! I will so plead, 
 That you shall say, my cunning drift excels. 
 
 Thu. Where meet we ? 
 
 Pro. At saint Gregory's well. 
 
 Thu. Farewell. 
 
 [Exeunt Thurio and Musicians. 
 
 Silvia appears above, at her window. 
 
 Pro. Madam, good even to your ladyship. 
 
 Sil. I thank you for your music, gentlemen : 
 Who is that, that spake ? 
 
 Pro. One, lady, if you knew his pure heart's 
 
 truth, 
 You'd quickly learn to know him by his voice. 
 
 Sil. Sir Proteus, as I take it. 
 
 Pro. Sir Proteus, gentle lady, and your servant. 
 
 Sil. What is your will ? 
 
 Pro. That I may compass yours. 
 
 SU. You have your wish ; my will is even ihis, 
 That presently you hie you home to bed. 
 Thou subtle, perjur'd, false, disloyal man ! 
 Think'st thou, I am so shallow, so conceitless, 
 To be seduc'd by thy flatten,-, 
 That hast deceiv'd so many with thy vows ? 
 Return, return, and make thy love amends. 
 For me, by this pale queen of night I swear, 
 I am so far from granting thy request, 
 That I despise thee for thy wrongful suit ; 
 
 !1) Beyond all reckoning. 
 2) Holy dame, blessed lady. 
 F 
 
 And by and br intend to chide myself, 
 Even for this time I spend in talking to thee. 
 
 Pro. I grant, sweet love, that I did love a lady ; 
 But she is dead. 
 
 Jul. 'Twere false, if I should speak it , 
 
 For, I am sure, she is not buried. [Aside. 
 
 SU. Say, that she be ; yet Valentine, thy friend, 
 Survives ; to whom, thyself art witness, 
 I am betroth'd : And art thou not asham'd 
 To wrong him with thy importunacy ? 
 
 Pro. I likewise hear, that Valentine is dead. 
 
 Sil. And so, suppose, am I ; for in his grave, 
 Assure thyself, my love is buried. 
 
 Pro. Sweet lady, let me rake it from the earth. 
 
 SU. Go to thy lady's grave, and call her's thence ; 
 Or, at the least, in her's sepulchre thine. 
 
 Jid. He heard not that. [Aside. 
 
 Pro. Madam, if your heart be so obdurate, 
 Vouchsafe me yet your picture for my love, 
 The picture that is hanging in your chamber ; 
 To that I'll speak, to that I'll sigh and weep ; 
 For, since the substance of your perfect self 
 Is else devoted, I am but a shadow ; 
 And to your shadow I will make true love. 
 
 Jul. If 'twere a substance, you would, sure, 
 
 deceive it, 
 Anrt make it but a shadow, as I am. [Aside. 
 
 SU. I am very loth to be your idol, sir ; 
 But, since your' falsehood shall become you well 
 To worship shadows, and adore false shapes, 
 Send to me in the morning, and I'll send it : 
 And so good rest. 
 
 Pro. As wretches have o'er-night, 
 
 That wait for execution in the morn. 
 
 [Exeunt Proteus ; and Silvia, from above. 
 
 Jid. Host, will you go ? 
 
 Host. By my halldom, 2 I was fast asleep. 
 
 Jul. Pray you, where lies sir Proteus ? 
 
 Host. Marry, at my house : Trust me, I think 
 'tis almost day. 
 
 Jid. Not so ; but it hath been the longest night 
 That e'er I watch'd, and the most heaviest 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE III.-'The same. Enter Eglamour. 
 
 Egl. Tills is the hour that madam Silvia 
 Entreated me to call, and know her mind ; 
 There's some great matter she'd employ me in. 
 Madam, madam! 
 
 Silvia appears above, at her window. 
 
 SU. Who calls ? 
 
 Egl. Your servant, and your friend ; 
 
 One that attends your ladyship's command. 
 
 Sil. Sir Eglamour, a thousand tunes good-mor- 
 row. 
 
 Egl. As many, worthy lady, to yourself. 
 According to your ladyship's impose,* 
 I am thus early come, to know what service 
 It is vour pleasure to command me in. 
 
 Sit. O Eglamour, thou art a gentleman 
 (Think not," I flatter, for, I swear, I do not,) 
 Valiant, wise, remorseful, 4 well accomplish'd. 
 Thou art not ignorant, what dear good will 
 I bear unto the banish'd Valentine ; 
 Nor how my father would enforce me marry 
 Vain Thurio, whom my very soul abhorr'd. 
 Thyself hast lov'd ; arid I have heard thee say, 
 No grief did ever come so near your heart, 
 As when thy lady and thy true love died, 
 
 (S) Injunction, command. 
 
 (4) Pitiful.
 
 TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA. 
 
 Act ir. 
 
 Upon whtoft gwre thou row'dst pure chastity. 
 
 Sir Eglamour, I would to Valentine, 
 
 To Mantua, where, I hear, he makes abode ; 
 
 And, for the ways are dangerous to pass, 
 
 1 do desire thy worthy company, 
 
 Upon whose faith and honour I repose. 
 
 Urge not my father's anger, Eglamour, 
 
 But think upon my grief, a lady's grief; 
 
 And on the justice of my flying hence, 
 
 To keep me from a most unholy match, 
 
 VXhich heaven and fortune still reward with 
 
 plagues. 
 
 I do desire tnee, even from a heart 
 As full of sorrows as the sea of sands, 
 To bear me company, and go with me : 
 If not, to hide what I have said to thce, 
 That I may venture to depart alone. 
 
 Figl. Madam, I pity much your grievance ; 
 Which since I know they virtuously are plac'd, 
 I five consent to go along with you ; 
 Recking" as little what betideth me, i 
 A* much I wish all good befortune you. 
 When will you go ? 
 
 SU. This evening coming. 
 
 Ee;l. Where shall I meet you ? 
 
 S&. At friar Patrick's cell, 
 
 Where I intend holy confession. 
 
 Egl. I will not fail your ladyship : 
 (jood-morrow, gentle lady. 
 
 SU. (joodmorrow, kind sir Eglamour. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE IV.Tkt same. Enter Launce, with 
 his do;. 
 
 When a man's servant shall play the cur with 
 him, look you, it goes hard : one that I brought up 
 of a puppy ; one that I saved from drowning, when 
 three or lour of his blind brothers and sisters went 
 to it ! I have taught him even as one would say 
 precisely, Thus I would teach a dog. I was sent 
 to deliver him, as a present to mistress Silvia, from 
 my master : and I came no sooner into the dining- 
 chambcr, but he steps me to her trencher, and 
 steals her capon's leg. O 'tis a foul thing, when 
 a cur cannot keep 2 himself in all companies ! I 
 would have, as one should say, one that takes upon 
 him to be a dog indeed, to be, as it were, a dog at 
 all things. If"I had not had more wit than he, to 
 take a fault upon me that he did, I think verily he 
 had been hanged for't; sure as I live, he had suf- 
 fered for't : you shall jud?e. He thrusts me him- 
 self into the company of three or four gentlemen- 
 like dogs, under the duke's table : ho had not been 
 there (bless the mark) a pissing whiie ; but all the 
 chamber smelt him. Out with the do?, says one ; 
 What ctfr is that ? says another ; Whip him out, 
 says the third ; Hang him up, says the duke. I, 
 having been acquainted with the smell before, 
 knew it was Crab ; and goei me to the fellow that 
 whips the dogs : Friend, quoth I, you mean to 
 whin the dog ? .it/, marry, do J, quoth he. You 
 do nim the more icron-, quoth I ; 'f IO<M / did the 
 thing you wot of. He makes me no more ado, 
 but whips me out of the chamber. How many 
 masters would do this for their servant ? Nay, I'll 
 be sworn, I have sat. in the stocks for puddings he 
 hath stolen, otherwise he had been executed : I 
 have stood on the pillory for geese he hath killed, 
 otherwise he had suffered for't : thou think'st not 
 of this now ! Nay, I remember the trick you 
 
 (1) Caring. (2) Restrain. (3) In the end. 
 
 served me. when I took my leave of madam Silvia ; 
 did not I bid thee still mark me, and do as I do 7 
 When didst thou see me heave up my leg, and make 
 water against a gentlewoman's farthingale ? didst 
 thou ever see me do such a trick ? 
 
 Enter Proteus and Julia. 
 
 Pro. Sebastian is thy name ? I like thee well, 
 And will employ thee in some service presently. 
 
 Jul. In what you please ; I will do what I can. 
 
 Pro. I hope, thou wilt How now, you whore- 
 son peasant? [To Launce. 
 Where have you been these two days loitering ? 
 
 Laura. Marry, sir, I carried mistress Silvia thn 
 dog you bade me. 
 
 Pro. And what says she, to my little jewel ? 
 
 Lccun. Marry, she savs, your dog was a cur ; 
 and tells you, "currish thanks is good enough for 
 such a present. 
 
 Pro. But she received my dog? 
 
 Laun. No, indeed, she "did not: here have I 
 brought him back again. 
 
 Pro. What, didst thou offer her this from me ? 
 
 Laun. Ay, sir ; the other squirrel was stolen 
 from me by the hangman's boys in the market- 
 place : and then I offer'd her mine own ; who is a 
 dog as big as tea of yours, and therefore the gift 
 the greater. 
 
 Pro. Go, get thee hence, and find my dog again, 
 Or ne'er return again unto my sight. 
 Away, I say : Stay'st thou to vex me here ' 
 A slave, that, still an end, 3 turns me to shame. 
 
 Sebastian, I have entertained thee, 
 
 [Exit Launce. 
 
 Partly, that I have need of such a youth, 
 That'can with some discretion do ray business, 
 For 'tis no trusting to yon foolish lowt : 
 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 loved me well, delivered it to me. 
 Jul. It seems you loved her not, to leave her 
 token : 
 
 She's dead, belike. 
 
 Not so ; I think, she lives. 
 
 Pro. 
 
 Jid. Alas! 
 
 Pro. "Why dost thy cry, alas ! 
 
 Jul. I cannot choose but pity her. 
 
 Pro. Wherefore should'st thou pity her? 
 
 Jul. Because, methinks, that she loved you aa 
 
 well 
 
 As you do love your lady Silvia : 
 She dreams on him, that has forgot her lore ; 
 You dote on her. that cares not for your love. 
 'Tis pity, love should be so contrary ; 
 And thinking on it makes me cry, alas ! 
 
 Pro. Well, give her that ring, and therewithal 
 This letter; that's her chamber. Tell my lady, 
 I claim the promise for her heavenly picture. 
 Your message done, hie home unto my chamber, 
 Where thou shalt find me sad and solitary. 
 
 [Exit Proteus. 
 
 Jul. How many women would do such a mes- 
 sage? 
 
 Alas, poor Proteus ! thou hast entertain'i 
 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.
 
 Scene/, II. 
 
 TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA. 
 
 43 
 
 This ring I gave him, when he parted from me, 
 
 To uind him to remember my good will : 
 
 And now am I (unhappy messenger) 
 
 To jilead for that, which I would not obtain ; 
 
 To rarry that which I would have refus'd ; 
 
 To praise his faith, which I would have disprais'd. 
 
 Ian- my master's true confirmed love ; 
 
 But cannot be true servant to my master, 
 
 Unless I prove false traitor to myself. 
 
 Yet I will woo for him : but yet so coldly, 
 
 As, heaven, it knows, I would not have him speed. 
 
 Enter Silvia, attended. 
 
 I As if the garment had been made for me s 
 'Therefore, I know she is about my height. 
 lAnd, at that time, I made her weep a-good,' 
 | 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 ! 
 
 SU. She is beholden to thee. gentle youth J 
 Alas, poor lady ! desolate and left ! 
 I weep myself, to think upon thy words. 
 j Here, youth, there is mv purse ; I give thee thia 
 
 Gentlewoman, good day! I prav you, be my mean For thy sweet nustress' sake, because thou lov'et her. 
 To brintj me where to speak with madam Silvia. Farewell. [Exit Silvia. 
 
 bit. \Vhat would you with hsr, if that I be she ? Jul. And she shall thank you fort, if e'er yeu 
 
 Jut. If you be shz, I do entreat your patience know her. 
 
 To hear me speak the message I am sent on. A virtuous gentlewoman, mild, and beautiful. 
 
 Sil. From whom ? |I hope my master's suit will be but cold, 
 
 JuL Front my master, sir Proteus, inadam. [Since she respects my mistress' love o much. 
 
 Alas, how love can trifle with itself! 
 
 Si'. O ! He sends you for a. picture / 
 
 Ju!. Ay, madam. 
 
 till. Ursula, faring my picture there. 
 
 [Picture brought. 
 
 (Jo, -rive your master this : tell him from me, 
 One Julia, that his changing thoughts forget, 
 Would better fit his chamber, than this shadow. 
 
 Jut. Madam, please you peruse this letter. 
 Pardon me, madam ; I have unadvis'd 
 Delivered you a paper that I should not ; 
 This is the'letter to'yotir ladyship. 
 
 Sil. I pray thee, let me look on that again. 
 
 Jul. It may not be ; good madam, pardon me. 
 
 Si'. There" hold. 
 
 I will not look upon your master's line? : 
 I know, they arc stun 'd wilh protestations, 
 
 And full of ncw-founcl oaths ; which he will break Thou shall be worshipp'd, kiss'd, lov'd, and ador'd ; 
 
 As easily as I do tear his paper. 
 
 Jul. Madam, he sends your ladyship this ring. 
 
 Sil. The more shame for him that he sends it me ; 
 For, I have heard him say a thousand times, 
 His Julia gave it him at his departure: 
 Though his false finger hath profr.n'd the ring, 
 Mine'shall not do his Julia so much wrong. 
 
 Jnl. She thanks you. 
 
 Sil. What say'st'thou ? 
 
 Jul. I thank you, madam, that you tender her : 
 Poor gentlewoman ! my master wrongs her much. 
 
 Sil. Dost thou know her? 
 
 Jid. 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 forsook 
 her. 
 
 Here is her picture : Let me see : I think, 
 If I had such a tire, 3 this face of mine 
 Were full as lovely as is this of hers : 
 And yet the painter flatter'd her a little, 
 Unless I flatter with myself too much. 
 Her hair is auburn ? mine is perfect yellow : 
 If that be all the difference in his love, 
 I'll get me such a colour'd periwig. 
 Her eyes are grev as glass ; and so are mine : 
 Ay, but her forehead's low, and mine's a* 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. thou senseless form ! 
 
 And, were there sense in his idolatry, 
 
 My substance should be statue in thy stead. 
 
 I'll use thee kindly for thy mistress' sake, 
 
 That us'd me so ;' or else, by Jove I vow, 
 
 I should have scratch'd out your unseeing eve, 
 
 To make my master out of love with thee. [E.W. 
 
 ACT V. 
 
 SCENE I.The same. Jn abbey. Enter 
 Eglamour. 
 
 Egl. The sun begins to gild the western sky ; 
 And now, it is about the very hour 
 That Silvia, at Patrick's cell, should meet me, 
 She will not fail ; for lovers break not hours. 
 
 Enter Silvia. 
 
 She, in my judgment, was as fair as you ; 
 since she did nedect her looking-glass, 
 
 Jul. I think she doth, and that's her cause of | Unless it be to come before their time ; 
 
 sorrow. So much they spur their expedition. 
 
 Sil. Is she not passing fair ? 
 Jid. She hath been fairer, madam, than she is : 
 When she did think my master lov'd her well, ^ where ^ cQmcs . j^ ft happy 
 
 Sil. Amen, amen ! go on, good Eglamour ! 
 Out at the postern by the abbey-wall ; 
 I fear, I am attended bv some spies. 
 
 E<rl. Fear not: the forest is not three leagues 
 
 off; 
 If we recover that, we are sure 5 enough. [Exeunt. 
 
 But si: 
 
 And threw her sun-expellinsr mask away, 
 The air hath starv'd the roses in her cheeks. 
 And pinch'd the lily-tincture of her face, 
 That, now she is become as black as I. 
 
 Sil. How tall was>he ? 
 
 Jid. About my stature : for, at Pentecost, 1 
 When all our pa'geants of delight were play'd, 
 Our youth got me to play the woman's part, 
 And I was trimm'd in madam Julia's frown, 
 Which served me as fit by all men's judgment, 
 
 (1) Whitsuntide. (2) In good earnest. 
 
 SCENE II. The same. +9n apartment in Iht 
 Duke's palace. Enter Thurio, Proteus, and 
 Julia. 
 
 Thu. Sir Proteus, what says Silvia to my suit ? 
 (3) Head-dress. (4) Expectable. (5) Safe,
 
 TWO GENTLEMEN OP VERONA. 
 
 ActV. 
 
 Pro. 0, air, I find her milder than she was ; 
 And yet she takes exceptions at your person. 
 Thu. What, that my leg is too long ? 
 Pro. No; that it is too little. 
 Thu. I'll wear a boot, to make it somewhat 
 
 rounder. 
 Pro. But love will not be spurr'd to what it 
 
 loaths. 
 
 Thu. What says she to my face ? 
 Pro. She says, it is a fair one. 
 Thu. Nay, then the wanton lies ; my face is 
 
 black. 
 
 Pro. But pearls are fair ; and the old saying is, 
 
 Black men are pearls in beauteous ladies' eyes. 
 
 Jul. 'Tis true; such pearls as put out" ladies' 
 
 eyes ; 
 
 For I had rather wink than look on them. [Aside. 
 Thu. How likes she my discourse ? 
 Pro. Ill, when you talk of war. 
 Thu. But well, when I discourse of love, and 
 
 peace ? 
 Jul. But better, indeed, when you hold your 
 
 pcae:e. [Aside. 
 
 Thu. What says she to my valour ? 
 Pro. O, sir, she makes no doubt of that. 
 Jul. She needs not, when she knows it coward- 
 ice. [Aside. 
 Thu. What says she to my birth ? 
 Pro. That you" are well deriv'd. 
 Jul. True ; from a g-enlleman to a fool. [Aside. 
 Thu. Considers she my possessions ? 
 Pro. O, ay ; and pities them. 
 Thu. Wherefore? 
 
 Jul. That such an ass should owe 1 them. [Aside. 
 Pro. That they are out by lease. 
 Jul. Here comes the duke. 
 
 Enter Duke. 
 
 Duke. How now, sir Proteus? how now, Thurio 
 Which of you saw sir Eglamour of late ? 
 
 Thu. Not I. 
 
 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 ; 
 Butj being mask'd, he was not sure of it : 
 Besides, she dkl intend confession 
 At Patrick's cell this even : and there she was not : 
 These likelihoods confirm her flight from hence. 
 Therefore, I pray you, stand not to discourse, 
 But mount you presently ; and meet with me 
 Upon the rising of the mountain foot 
 That leads towards Mantua, whither 'they arc fled : 
 Despatch, sweet gentlemen, and follow me. [Exit. 
 
 Thu. Why, this it is to be a peevish 1 girl, 
 That flies her fortune when it follows her : 
 I'll after ; more to be revenaj'd on Eglamour, 
 Than for the love of reckless 5 Silvia. [Exit. 
 
 Pro. And I will follow, more for Silvia's love, 
 Than hate of E<jlamour that goes with her. [Exit. 
 
 Jul. And I will follow, more to cross that love, 
 Than hate for Silvia, that is gone for love. [Exit. 
 
 SCENE III. Frontiers of Mantua. The 
 Forest. Enter Silvia, and Out-lawa. 
 
 Out. Come, come: 
 (1) Own, (2) Foolish, (3) CareleM. 
 
 Be patient, we must bring you to our captain. 
 
 Sit. A thousand more mischances than this one 
 Have learn'd me how to brook this patiently. 
 
 2 Out. Come, bring her away. 
 
 1 Out. Where is the gentleman that was with 
 her? 
 
 3 Out. Being nimble-footed, he hath out-run us, 
 But Moyses. and Valerius, follow him. 
 
 Go thou with her to the west end of the wood, 
 There is our captain : we'll follow him that's fled ; 
 The f hicket is beset, he cannot 'scape. 
 I Out. Come, I must bring you to our captain's 
 
 cave : 
 
 Fear not ; he bears an honourable mind, 
 And will not use a woman lawlessly. 
 SU. O Valentine, this I endure for thee ! 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE IV.*Vnother part of the Farett. t 
 Enter Valentine. 
 
 Vol. How use doth breed a habit in a man 
 This shadowy desert, unfrequented woods, 
 I better brook than flourishing peopled towns 
 Here can I sit alone, unseen 01 any, 
 And, to the nightingale's complaining notes, 
 Tune my distresses, and record* my woes. 
 O thou that dost inhabit in my breast, 
 Leave not the mansion so long tenantless ; 
 Lest, growing ruinous, the building fall, 
 And leave no memory of what it was ! 
 Repair me with thy presence, Silvia ; 
 Thou gentle nymph, cherish thy forlorn swain ! 
 What halloing, and what stir, is this to-day ? 
 These are my mates, that make their wills their 
 
 law, 
 
 Have some unhappy passenger in chace : 
 They love me well ; yet I have much to do, 
 To keep them from uncivil outrages. 
 Withdraw thee, Valentine ; who's this comes here 7 
 
 [Steps aside. 
 
 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, 5 but one fair look ; 
 A smaller boon than this I cannot beg, 
 And less than this, I am sure, you cannot give. 
 
 Vol. How like a dream is this I see and hear? 
 Love, lend me patience to forbear awhile. [Aside . 
 
 Sil. O miserable, unhappy that I am ! 
 
 Pro. Unhappy, were you, madam, ere I came ; 
 But, by my coming, I have made you happy 
 
 5%?.' Rv iKx.' nTM^rrtnnK fVimi ml/'at m mrti 
 
 y thy app 
 happy. 
 
 roach thou mak'st me most un 
 
 lappy 
 
 Jul. And me, when he approachclh to your 
 presence. [Aside. 
 
 Sil. Had I been seized by a hungry lion, 
 I would have been a breakfast to the oeast, 
 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? 
 
 (4) Sing. 
 
 (5) Reward.
 
 Sceiif IV. 
 
 TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA. 
 
 O, 'tis the curse in lore, an J still approv'd, ' i Pro. How ! Julia ! 
 
 When women cannot love where they're belov'd. i Jid. Behold her that gave aim* to all thy oathj, 
 Sil. When Proteus cannot love where he's And entertain'd them deeply in her heart : 
 
 belov'd. [How oft hast thou with perjury cleft the root I* 
 
 Read over Julia's heart, thy first best lore, ' |O Proteus, let this habit make thee blush ! 
 
 i'or whose dear sake thou didst then rend thy Be thou asham'd, that I hare took upon in 
 
 faith Such an immodest raiment ; if shame live 
 
 Into a thousand oaths ; and all those oaths In a dipguise of love : 
 
 Descended into perjury, to love me. IHs the lesser blot, modesty finds, 
 
 Thou hast no faith left now, unless thouhadst two, 
 And that's far worse than none ; better have none 
 Than plural faith, which is too much fay one : 
 1'hou counterfeit to thy true friend ! 
 
 Pro. In lore, 
 
 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'll woo you like a soldier, at arms' end ; 
 And love" you 'gainst the nature of love, force you. 
 
 Sil. O heaven ! 
 
 Pro. I'll force thee yield to my desire. 
 
 Vol. Ruffian, let go that rude uncivil touch ; 
 Thou friend of an ill fashion ! 
 Pro. Valentine ! 
 
 yd. 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 
 1 have one friend alive ; thou would'st disprove me. 
 Who should be trusted now, when one's 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. 
 
 Women to change their shapes, than men their 
 
 minds. 
 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 
 
 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 foe*. 
 Pro. Bear witness, heaven, I have my wish for 
 
 ever. 
 Jul. And I have mine. 
 
 Enter Out-laws, with Duke ondThurio. 
 
 Oul. A prize, a. prize, a prize ! 
 
 Vol. Forbear, I say ; It is my lord the duke, 
 j Your grace is welcome to a man disgrac'd, 
 Banish'tJ Valentine. 
 
 Duke. Sir Valentine ! 
 
 Thu. Yonder is Silvia ; and Silvia's mine. 
 
 Val. Thurio, give back, or else embrace 
 
 death j 
 Come not within the measure 4 of my wrath : 
 
 thy 
 
 The private wound is deepest : O time, most curst ! ! ^ OIr 
 
 "Mongst all foes, that a friend should be the worst! !p not name Silvia thine ; if once again, 
 
 Pro. My shame and guilt confounds me. 
 
 Forgive me, Valentine : if hearty sorrow- 
 Be a sufficient ransom for oflence, 
 
 I tender it here ; I do as truly suffer, 
 
 As e'er I did commit. 
 
 Val. Then I am paid ; 
 
 And once again I do receive thee honest. 
 
 Who by repentance is not satisfied, 
 
 Is nor of heaven, nor earth ; for these are pleas'd ; 
 
 By penitence the Eternal's wrath's appeas'd : 
 
 Ana, that my love may appear plain and free, 
 
 All that, was mine in S"ilvia, I give thee. 
 
 Jid. O me, unhappy ! [Faints. , . - 
 
 Pro. Look to the boy. now 1 th ?, n ' l l } cre for " et a!1 fo f mer " nefs 
 
 Vol. Whv, bov! why, was! how now? what! Cancel 11 grudze, repeal thee home again. 
 is the milter ? * Icad , a . " ew f* 16 thy unmalld merit, 
 
 Milan shall not behold thee. Here she stands, 
 Take but possession of her with a touch ! 
 I dare thee but to breathe upon mv love. 
 
 Thu. Sir Valentine, I'care not Tor her, I ; 
 I hold him but a fool, that will endanger 
 His body for a girl that loves him not : 
 1 claim her not, and therefore she is thine. 
 
 Duke. The more degenerate and base art Ihou 
 To make such means 6 for her as thou hast done, 
 And leave her on such, slight conditions. 
 Now, by the honour of my ancestry, 
 
 I do applaud thy spirit, Valentine, 
 And think thee worthy of an empr 
 
 an empress' lore. 
 
 Look up ; speak. 
 
 Jul. 
 
 O pood sir, mv master charg'd me 
 
 To deliver a ring to madam Silvia ; 
 Which, out of my neglect, was never done 
 Pro. Where is that ring, boy ? 
 " 
 
 [Gives a ring. 
 
 Jid. Here 'tis: this is" it. 
 
 Pro. How ! let me see : 
 Why this is the ring I prave to Julia. 
 
 Jid. O, cry you mercy, sir, I have mistook ; 
 This is the ring you sent to Silvia. 
 
 To which I thus subscribe, sir Valentine, 
 Thou art a gentleman, and well deriv'd ; 
 Take thou Ihy Silvia, for thou hast deserv'd her. 
 Val. I thank your grace ; the gift hath made me 
 
 happy. 
 I now beseech you, for your daurhter's sake, 
 
 To arrant one boon that I shall ask of you. 
 
 Duke. I grant it, for thine own, whate'er it be. 
 Val. These banish'd men, that I have kept 
 
 withal, 
 
 nother rin- i ^ re men e dued with worthy qualities ; . 
 
 Pro. But, how cam'st tkottby thb rtaf ? at ravi 1 " "?"'? them what they have committed here, 
 ' ' And let them be recall'd from their exile : 
 
 They are reformed, civil, full of good, 
 And fit for great employment, worthy lord. 
 Duke. Thou hast prevail'd : I pardon them and. 
 
 depart, 
 I gave this unto Julia. 
 
 Jid. And Julia herself did give it me ; 
 And Julia herself hath brought it hither. 
 
 fl) Felt, experienced. (2) Direction. 
 (3) An allusion to clearing the pin in archery, 
 
 thee ; 
 Dispose of them, as thou know'st their deserts, 
 
 (4) Length of my sword, (5) Interwt,
 
 TWO GENTLEMEN OF VE'RONA. 
 
 With triumph?,' mirth, and rare solemnity. 
 Come, let Us go ; we will include 1 all jars. 
 
 Vol. And, as we walk along 1 , 1 dare be bold 
 With our discourse to make your grace to smile : 
 What think you of this page, my lord 'i 
 
 Dukt. I think the boy hath grace in him; he 
 blushes. 
 
 TaL. I warrant you, my lord ; more grace than 
 bor. 
 
 Dukt. What mean vou by that saying 1 
 
 Vol. Please you, I'fl tell vou as we pass along, 
 That you will wonder what hath fortun'd. 
 Come, Proteus ; 'tis your penance, but to hear 
 Tho story of your loves discovered : 
 That done, our day of marriage shall he yours ; 
 One feast, oue house, one mutual happiness. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 (I) Masks, revels. (2) Conclude. 
 
 In thid play there is a strange mixtuie f know 
 ledg;e and ignorance, of care and negligence. The 
 versification is often excellent, the allusions are. 
 learned and just ; but the author conveys his 
 heroes by sea from one inland town to another in 
 the same country : he places the emperor at Milan, 
 and sends his young men to attend him, but nevr 
 mentions him more ; he makes Proteus, after a*. 
 interview with Silvia, say he has only seen her pic- 
 ture : and, if we may credit the old copies, lie has, 
 by mistaking places, left his scenery inextricable. 
 The reason of all this confusion seems to be, that 
 he took his story from a novel which he sometime* 
 followed and sometimes forsook; sometimes re- 
 membered, and sometimes forgot. 
 
 That this play is rightly attributed to Shak- 
 spearc, I have little doubt. If it be taken from him, 
 to whom shall it be given 1 This question may be 
 asked of all the disputed plays, except Titus An- 
 dronicus; and it will be found more credible, that 
 Shakspeare might sometimes sink below his highest 
 flights, than that any other should rise up to his 
 lowest. JOHNSON.
 
 
 MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR. 
 
 Act V. Scene 5. 
 
 TWELFTH NIGHT. 
 Ad U.Scfnr 2.
 
 MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR. 
 
 PERSONS REPRESENTED. 
 
 Sir John Falstafi. 
 
 Fenton. 
 
 Shallow, a countfaijwtiet, 
 
 Slender, cousin to 
 
 Mr' Page* } tv}0 
 
 William Page, a boy, son to .Vr. 
 
 Sir Hugh Evans, a Welsh js"tt> 
 
 Dr. Caius, a Frtnch physician. 
 
 Host of the Garter Inn, 
 
 Bardolph, ) 
 
 Pistol, > followers- of Falstaff. 
 
 Nym, ) 
 
 Windsor. 
 
 Robin, pagt to Falstajf. 
 Simple, servant to Slender. 
 Rugby, servant to Dr. Calm, 
 
 Mrs. Ford. 
 
 Mrs. Page. 
 
 Mrs. Anne Page, her daughter, in lott with Penton* 
 
 Mrs. Quickly, servant to Dr. Cains. 
 
 Servants to Page, Ford, <$-c. 
 Scene, Windsor; and the parts adjacent. 
 
 ACT I. 
 
 SCJ2.VE I. Windsor. Effort PageV 
 Enter Justice Shallow, Slender, and~Sir' 
 Evans. 
 
 Shallow. 
 
 oIR Hugh, persuade me not ; I will make a Strv 
 shamber matter of it: if he were twenty Sir Joh-i 
 Falstaffs, he shall not abuse Robert Shallow, es- 
 quire. 
 
 Slen. In the county of Gloster, justice of peace, 
 and coram. 
 
 Shal. Ay, cousin Slender, and cvst-alomm.* 
 
 Slen. Ay, and ratolorum too; and a gentleman 
 born, master parson ; who writes himselfarmigero; 
 in any bill, warrant, quittance, or obligation, or- 
 migero. 
 
 Shal. Ay. that we do ; and have done any time 
 these three hundred years. 
 
 Slen. All his successors, gone before him, have 
 done't ; and all his ancestors, that come after him, 
 may : they may give the dozen white luces in their 
 coat. 
 
 Shal. It is an old coat. 
 
 Era. The dozen white louses do become an o._ 
 eoatwell; it agrees well, passant : it is a familiar 
 beast to man, and signifies love. 
 
 Shal. The luce is the fresh fish ; the salt fish is 
 an old coat. 
 
 Slen. I may quarter, coz ? 
 
 Sheil. You may, by marryinsr. 
 
 Eva. It is marring' indeed, if he quarter it. 
 
 Shal. Not a whitf 
 
 Eva. Yes, py'r* lady; if he has a quarter of your 
 coat, there is but three skirts for yourself, iii my 
 simple conjectures : but that is all one : if Sir John 
 Falstaff have committed disparagements unto you, 
 I am of the church, and will be glad to do my be- 
 nevolence, to make atonements "and compromises 
 between you. 
 
 Shal. The council* shall hear it ; it is a riot. 
 
 1) A title formerly appropriated, to chaplains. 
 
 Eva. 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 5 in that. 
 
 Shal. Ha ! o' my life, if I were young again, the 
 I sword should end it. 
 
 I Eva. It is petter that friends is the sword, and 
 end it: and there is also another device in my 
 pru in, which, peradventure, prings goot discretion* 
 vrith it : there is Anne Page, wlu'ch is daughter to 
 master George Page, which is pretty virginity. 
 
 Slen. Mistress Anne Page ? She has brown hair 
 and ^pe^ks small 6 like a woman. 
 
 Ey*. It is that fery person for all the 'orld, as 
 just as rou will desire ; and seven bun-i. ed pounds 
 of monies- and gold, and silver, is her grandsire, 
 upon his c\>8tVs-bed (Got deliver to a joyful resur- 
 rections ! ) ,;i v c, when she is able to ovei take seven- 
 teen years ok' : it were a goot motion, if we leave 
 our pribbles ;wx< \">rabbles, and desire a marriage 
 between master Abraham, and mistress Anne 
 
 Shal. Did her rarx3sire leave her seven hundred 
 pound? 
 
 Era. A v, and hs-fa'-ber is make her a petter penny. 
 Shal. f know the vj' gentlewoman; the has 
 
 Eva. Seven hundred Bounds, and possibilities, is 
 goot gifts. 
 
 Shal. Well, let us see honest master Page : U 
 Falstaff there? 
 
 Ecu. Shall I tell you a iJe ? I do despise a liar, 
 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-wilier?. 
 I will peat the door [fcnoefc*] for master Page. 
 What, hoa ! Got pless your house here ! 
 
 Enter Page. 
 
 Page. Who's there? 
 
 Eva. Here is Got's plessing, and your friend, 
 and justice Shallow : and here young master Slea> 
 
 (3) By our. 
 (5) Advisement, 
 
 (4) 
 () 
 
 Soft.
 
 -48 
 
 MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR, 
 
 der ; that, perad ventures, 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. 
 
 Shaf. Master Page. I am glad to see you ; much 
 good do it your {rood heart ! I wished your venison 
 better; it was ill killed: how doth good mistress 
 Page ? and I love 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 Slen- 
 der. 
 
 Slen. How does your fallow greyhound, sir ? I 
 beard say. he was outrun on Cotsale. 1 
 
 Page. It could not be judg'd, sir. 
 
 Slen. You'll not confess, you'll not confess. 
 
 Shal. That he will not ; 'tis your fault, 'tis your 
 fault : 'tis a good dog. 
 
 Page. A cur, sir. 
 
 Shal. Sir, he's a good dog, and a fair dog; can 
 there be more said 7 he is good, and fair. la sir 
 John Falstaff here ? 
 
 Page. Sir, he is within ; and I would I could do 
 a good office between you. 
 
 Eva. It is spoke as a Christians ought to speak. 
 
 Shal. He hath wrong'd me, master Page. 
 
 Page. Sir, he doth in some sort confess it. 
 
 Slial. If it be confess'd, it is not redress'd ; is not 
 that so, master Page 1 he hath wrong'd me ; in- 
 deed, he hath ; at a word, he hath ; believe me ; 
 Robert Shallow, esquire, saith, he is wrong'd. 
 
 Page. Here comes Sir John. 
 
 Enter Sir John FalstafF, Bardolph, Nym, and 
 Pistol. 
 
 Fal. Now, master Shallow ; you'll complain of 
 me to the king ? 
 
 Skal. Knight, you have beaten my men, killed 
 my deer, and broke open my lodge. 
 
 Fal. But not kiss'd your Keeper's daughter. 
 
 SkaL Tut, a pin ! this shall be answerd. 
 
 Fal. I will answer it straight ; I have done all 
 this : that is now answcr'd. 
 
 Slial. The council shall know this. 
 
 Fal. 'Twere better for you, if it were known in 
 counsel : you'll be lauuh'd at. 
 
 Era, Pauca verba, Sir John, good worts. 
 
 Fal. Good worts ! a good cabbage. Slender, I 
 broke your head ; what matter have you against 
 me? 
 
 Slen. Marry, sir, I have matter in my head 
 against you ; and against vour coney-catching 3 
 rascals, Bardolph, Nym, andTPistol. They carried 
 me to the tavern, and made me drunk, and after- 
 wards picked my pocket. 
 
 Bar. You Banbury cheese !* 
 
 Slen. Ay, it is no matter. 
 
 Pist. How now, Mephostophilus ?* 
 
 Slen. Av ; 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 ? 
 
 Eva. Peace, I pray you ! Now let us under- 
 stand : there is three umpires in this matter, as I 
 
 ( 1J Cotswold in Gloucestershire. 
 (2) Worts was the ancient name of all the cab- 
 Dage kind. 
 
 (3J Sharpen. (4) Nothing but paring. 
 
 (6) The name of an ugly ipiriU (6) Few words 
 
 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. 
 
 Eva. Fery goot : I will make a prief of it in my 
 note-book ; and we will afterwards 'ork upon Uii 
 cause, with as great discreetly as we can. 
 
 Fal. Pistol, 
 
 Pist. He hears with ears. 
 
 Eva. The tevil and his tarn ! what phrase u thU, 
 He hears with ear ? Why, it is affectatious. 
 
 Fal. Pistol, did you pick master S lender's purse ? 
 
 Slen. Ay, by these gloves, did he (or I would 1 
 might never come in mine own great chamber again 
 else,) of seven groats in mill-sixpences, and two 
 Edward shovel-boards," that cost me two shilling 
 and two pence apiece of Yead Miller, by these 
 gloves. 
 
 Fal. Is this true, Pistol? 
 
 Eta. No ; it is false, if it is a pick-purse. 
 
 Pist. Ha, thou mountain-foreigner ! Sir John, 
 
 and master mine, 
 
 I combat challenge of this latten bilbo : 
 Word of denial in thy labras 9 here ; 
 Word of denial ; froth and scum, thou liest. 
 
 Slen. By these gloves, then 'twas he. 
 
 Nym. Be advised, sir, and pass good humours 
 I will say, marry trap, with you, if you run the 
 nuthook's 10 humour on me ; that is 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 altogether an ass. 
 
 Fal. What say you, Scarlet and John ? 
 
 Bard. AVhy, sir, for my part, I say, the gentle- 
 man' had drunk himself out of his five sentences. 
 
 Eva. It is his five senses : fie, what the ignorance 
 is? 
 
 Bard. And being fap 11 sir, was as they say, 
 cashier'd ; and so conclusions pass'd the careires. 1 * 
 
 Slen. Ay, you spake in Latin then too ; but 'tis 
 no matter : iMl ne'er be drunk whilst I live acain, 
 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. 
 
 Eva. So Got 'udge me, that is a virtuous mind. 
 
 Fal. You hear all these matters denied, gentle- 
 men ; you hear it. 
 
 Enter Mistress Anne Page with vine ; Mistrest 
 Ford and Mistress Page following. 
 
 Page. Nay, daughter, carry the wine in ; we'll 
 drink within. [Exit Anne Page. 
 
 Slen. 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. 
 
 [kissing her. 
 
 Page. Wife, bid these gentlemen welcome : 
 Come, we have a hot venison pasty to dinner ; come, 
 gentlemen, I hope we shall drink down all unkind- 
 ness. 
 
 [Exeunt all but Shal. Slend. and Evan$. 
 
 Slen. I had rather than forty shillings, I had my 
 book of songs and sonnets here: 
 
 (7) King Edward's shillings, used in the game 
 of shuffle-hoard. 
 
 8) Blade as thin as a lath. (9) Lips. 
 
 10) If you say I am a thief. (11) Druttk. 
 
 12) The bounds of good behariour.
 
 Scene //. 
 
 MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR. 
 
 49 
 
 Enler 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 Allhallowmas last, a 
 fortnight afore Michaelmas? 1 
 
 Shal. Come, coz ; come, coz : we stay for you. 
 A word with you, coz : marry, this, coz ; there is.J 
 as 'twere, a tender, a kind of tender, made afar on 
 by sir Hugh here ; do you understand me ? 
 
 S/n. 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. 
 
 Eta. Give ear to his motions, master Slender : I 
 will description the matter to you, if you be capa- 
 city of it. 
 
 iiltn. Nay, I will do as my cousin Shallow says: 
 I pray you, pardon me ; he's a justice of peace in 
 hi* country, simple though I stand here. 
 
 Eva. But that is not the question ; the question 
 is concerning your marriajre. 
 Shal. Ay, there's the point, sir. 
 Era. Marry, is it ; the very point of it ; to mis- 
 tress Anne Page. 
 
 Slen. Why, if it be so, I will marry her, upon 
 anv reasonable demands. 
 
 Era. 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 
 carrv vour 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. 
 
 Eva. Nay, Go:'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 dow- 
 ry, 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 
 ifthere be no great love in the beginning, yet hea- 
 ven may decrease it upon better acquaintance, 
 when we are married, and have more occasion to 
 know one another: I hope, upon familiarity wil" 
 prow more contempt : but if you say, marry her 
 I will marry her, that I am freely dissolved, anc 
 dissolutely. 
 
 Eva. It is a ferv discretion answer ; save, the 
 
 faul' is in the 'ort dissolutely : the 'ort is, according 
 
 to our meaning, resolutely ; his meaning is good 
 
 Shal. Ay, I think my cousin meant well. 
 
 Slen. Ay, or else I would I might be hanged, la 
 
 Re-enter Anne Page. 
 
 Shal. Here comes fair mistress Anne : Would 
 I were young, for your sake, mistress Anne ! 
 
 Jlnne. The dinner is on the table ; my father 
 desires your worships' company. 
 
 hey will not sit, till you come. 
 Slen. I'faith. I'll eat nothing; 
 
 Jlnne. Will't please your worship to come in, sir 
 
 Sten. No, I thank you, forsooth, heartily ; I am 
 very well. 
 
 Jlnne. The dinner attends you, sir. 
 
 Slen. I am not a-hungry, I thank you, forsooth : 
 Go, sirrah, for all you are my man, go, wait upon 
 my cousin Shallow : [Exit Simple.] A justice 0. 
 peace sometime may be beholden 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 
 "\e a poor gentleman bom. 
 
 Jlnne. I may not go in without your worship : 
 
 I thank you as 
 much as though I did. 
 
 Jlnne. I pray you, sir, walk in. 
 
 Slen. I had rather walk here, I thank you: I 
 >ruised my shin the other day with playing at 
 sword and danger with a master of fence, three 
 veneys 2 for a cjsh of slewed prunes ; and, by my 
 .roth, I cannot abide the smell of hot meat since. 
 Why do your dogs bark so ? be there bears i' the 
 town ? 
 
 Jlnne. 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? 
 
 Jlnne. Ay, indeed, sir. 
 
 Slen. That's meat and drink to me now : I have 
 seen Sackerson 3 loose, twenty times ; and have 
 
 taken him by the chain : but, I warrant you, the 
 women have so cried and shriek'd at it ? that it 
 pass'd: 4 but women, indeed, cannot abide 'em ; 
 they are very ill-favoured rough things. 
 
 .fe-enler Page. 
 
 Page. Come, gentle master Slender, come ; we 
 stay lor you. 
 
 Slen. I'll eat nothing ; I thank you, sir. 
 
 Page. By cock and pye, 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. 
 
 Jlnne. Not I, sir ; pray you, keep on. 
 
 Slen. Truly, I will not go first ; truly, la : I Witt 
 not do you that wrong. 
 
 Jlnne. I pray you, sir. 
 
 Slen. I'll rather be unmannerly than trouble- 
 some : you do yourself wrong, indeed, la. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 SCEJVE II. The same. Enter Sir Hugh Evans 
 and Simple. 
 
 Eva. Go your ways, and ask of Doctor Caius' 
 house, which is the way; and there dwells one 
 mistress Quickly, which is in the manner of his 
 nurse, or his dry nurse, or his cook, or his laundry, 
 his washer, and his wringer. 
 
 Sim. Well, sir. 
 
 Era. Nay, it is petter yet : give her this let- 
 ter ; for it is a 'oman that altogether's acquain- 
 tance with mistress Anne Page ; and the letter is, 
 I to desire and require her to solicit your master's 
 
 Slud. I will wait on him, fair mistress Anne. i desires to mistress Ann Page: I pray you, begone; 
 
 be absence I will make an end of my dinner : there's pippins 
 
 Eva. Od's plessed will ! I will not 
 at the grace. 
 
 Exehnt Shal. and Sir H. Evans. 
 
 M) An intended blunder. 
 
 (2) Three set-to's, bouts or bits, 
 
 and cheese to come. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 (3. The name of a bear exhibited at Paris-Gar 
 den, in Southwark. 
 (4) Surpassed all expression,
 
 SCENE III.'- Jl 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 scho- 
 larlv, and wisely. 
 Fal. Truly, mine host, I must turn away some 
 
 Jet L 
 
 gilded my foot, sometimes my portly belly. 
 
 Pist. Then did the sun on dunghill shine. 
 
 Nytn. 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 burning-glass ! 
 Here's another letter to her : she bears the purse 
 too : she is a region in Guiana, all gold and bounty. 
 I will be cheater* to them both, and they shall be 
 
 of my followers. 
 
 Host. Discard, bully Hercules ; cashier : let 
 them wag ; trot, trot. 
 
 ., j y I , JIIUIC^, UIIU & 111 Llal.lt> \,\J LJil_lll U\J\.\ 
 
 tal. I sit at ten pounds a week. thou & [s i etter to m i st ress Pare ; and 
 
 Host. Thou'rt an emperor, Caesar, Keisar, and ^tress Ford: we will thrive,'lads, w 
 
 Pheezar. I will entertain Bardolph ; he shall PisL shall l Sir p an darus of Troy 
 P V ! h * sha11 ta P = sa . ld * well bul! .y Hector 1 And by my side wear stec i ? then> Luc j 
 T ( , '. H, so ' g od , mi f hos . 1 - f Nym. I will run no base humour ; here, take 
 
 Host. I have spoke: let him follow : let me see : lhe { MmQUT i ct ter; I will keep the 'haviour of re- 
 
 thee iroth, and luiie : I am at a word ; follow. ! putat'on 
 
 exchequers to me ; they shall be my East and West 
 Indies, and I will trade to them both. Go. bear 
 
 nd thou this to 
 we will thrive, 
 oy become, 
 
 And by my side wear steel ? then, Lucifer, take all ! 
 Nym. I will 
 
 [Exit Host. 
 
 Fal. Bardolph, follow him ; a tapster is a good 
 trade : an old cloak makes a new jerkin ; a wither- 
 ed serving-man, a fresh tapster : go ; adieu. 
 
 jBaref. It is a life that I have desired ; I will 
 thrive. [Exit Bard. 
 
 Pitt. O base Gongarian 1 wight! wilt thou the 
 spigot wield ? 
 
 Nym. He was gotten in drink : is not the hu- j 
 mour conceited ? His mind is not heroic, and 
 there's the humour of it. 
 
 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. 
 
 Nijm. The good humour is, to steal at a minute's 
 rest. 
 
 Pist. Convey, the wise it call: steal! fob; a 
 fico 5 for the phrase ! 
 
 Fal. Well, sirs, I am almost out at heels. 
 
 Pist. Why then let kibes ensue. 
 
 Fal. There is no remedy ; I must coney-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 
 list two yards 
 
 war 
 
 waste 
 
 s now, Pistol indeed, I am in the 
 
 o yards about : but I am now about no 
 wrao^. I am about thrift. Briefly, I do mean to 
 make love to Ford's wife ; I spy entertainment in 
 her ; she discourses, she carves, she gives the leer 
 of invitation : I can construe the action of her fa- 
 miliar style ; and the hardest voice of her beha- 
 viour, to be English'd rightly, is, / am Sir John 
 Falstafps. 
 
 Pist. He hath studied her well, and translated 
 her well ; out of honesty into English. 
 
 AV>n. The anchor is deep : will that humour 
 pass? 
 
 Fal. Now, the report goes, she has all the rule 
 of her husband's purse ; she hath legions of an- 
 gels. 1 
 
 Pist. As many devils entertain; and, To her, 
 bmi, say I. 
 
 Num. The humour rises ; it is good : humour 
 me the angels. 
 
 Fal. I have writ me here a letter to her : and 
 here another to Page's wife ; who even now gave 
 nie good eyes too, examin'd my parts with most 
 judicious eyliads : sometimes the beam of her view 
 
 (1) For Hungarian. (2) Fig. (3) Gold coin. 
 (4) Escheatour. an officer in the Exchequer . 
 
 (6) CtemlY, (6) False dice. 
 
 putation. 
 
 Fal. Hold, sirrah, [to Rob.] bear you these let- 
 ters tightly; 4 
 
 Sail like my pinnace to these golden shores. 
 Rogues, hence, avaunt! vanish like hail-stones, go ; 
 Trudge, plod, away, o' the hoof; seek shelter, 
 
 pack ! 
 
 Falstafl'wilj learn the humour of this age, 
 French thrift, you rogues ; myself, and skirted 
 page. [Exeunt I alstaff and Robin. 
 
 Pist. Let vultures gripe thy guts ! for gourd and 
 
 lullam 8 holds, 
 
 And liigh and low beguile the rich and poor : 
 Tester I'll have in pouch/ when thou 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 sold will hold, 
 And his soft couch defile. 
 
 Nym. My humour shall not cool : I will incense* 
 Page to deal with poison ; I will possess him with 
 yellowness,^ for the revolt of mien is dangerous : 
 that is my true humour. 
 
 Pist. Thou art the Mars of malcontents : I se- 
 
 cond thee ; troop on. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE IV. .4 room in Dr. Caius' hoiuc. Enter 
 Mrs. Quickly, Simple, and Rugby. 
 
 Qwtcfc. What: John Rugby! I pray thee, go 
 to the casement, and see if you can sec mv master. 
 master Doctor Caius, coming: if he do, i'faith, and 
 find any body in the house, here will be an old 
 abusing of God's patience, and the kind's English. 
 
 J?ug. I'll go watch. [Exit Rugby. 
 
 _ Qutcfc. Go ; and we'll have a posset ibr't soon at 
 night, in faith, at the latter end of a sea-coal fire. 
 An honest, -willing, kind fellow, as ever servant 
 shall come in house withal ; and, I warrant you, no 
 tell-tale, nor no breed-bate: 10 his worst fault is, 
 that he is given to prayer ; he is something peevish 1 ' 
 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. 
 
 Qut'cA:. And master Blender's your master ? 
 
 (7) Sixpence I'll have in pocket. 
 8) Instigate. (9) Jealousy. 
 (11) Foolish, 
 
 (10) Strife.
 
 MERRY WIVES OP WINDSOR. 
 
 51 
 
 Sim. Ay. forsooth. ifn my master, in the way of marriage. 
 
 Quick. Does he not wear a great round beard, i Quick. This is all, indeed, la ; but I'll ne'er put 
 
 like a. glover's paring-knife ? 
 
 my finder in the tire, and need not. 
 
 Sim. No forsooth: he hath but a little wee face, Cains. Sir Hugh send-a you? Rugby, bailltz 
 with a little yellow beard ; a Cain-coloured beard. : me some paper : Tarry you a Httle-a while. 
 
 Quick. A "softly -sprighted man, is he not? [writes. 
 
 Him. Ay, forsooth : but he is as tall 1 a man of Quick. I am glad he is so quiet: if he had been 
 his hands, as any is between this and his head: he i thoroughly moved, you should hare heard him to 
 hath fought with a warrener. 1 jloud, and so melancholy; but notwithstanding, 
 
 Quick. How say vou ? 0, I should remember man, I'll do your master what good I can: and, 
 
 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 <.vui . uiu* mw. 
 fortune ! Tell master parson Evans, I will do what 'do all myself; 
 
 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 
 
 I can for your master : Anne is a good girl, and I 
 
 wuh 
 
 Rttnter Rugby. 
 
 Ru*. Outj alas ! here comes my master. 
 Quick. \\ e shall all be shent : 5 run in here, 
 
 rood 
 
 Sim. 'Tis a great charge, to come under on 
 body's hand. 
 
 Q'lticfc. Are you advis'd o' that ? you shall find it a 
 great char-re : and to be up early, and down late ; 
 but notwithstanding (to tell you in your ear I 
 would have no words of it;) my master himself is 
 in love with mistress Anne Page : but notwilh- 
 
 youngman ; go into this closet. [SAuls Simple inlstanding that, I know Anne's mind, that's net 
 
 Ike closet.] He will not stay long. What, John 
 
 Rugby ! John, what, John, I say ! Go, John, go 
 inquire for my master ; I doubt, he be not well, 
 
 Enter Doctor Caius. 
 
 ther here nor there. 
 
 Caius. You jack'nape ; give- a dis letter to *u 
 ...... , Hugh ; by gar, it is a shallerige : I vill cut his troat 
 
 that he comes, not home : and down, rfoicn, in de park ; and I vill teach a scurvy jack-a-nape 
 adown-a, &c. [Sing's.! priest to meddle or make: you maybe 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. 
 
 Cains. Vat is you sing? I do not like dese toys ; 
 Prav you, go and vetch me in my closet un boitier 
 verd ; a box, a green-* box ; do intend vat I speak? 
 a green-a box. 
 
 Quick. Ay, forsooth, I'll fetch it you. I am glad 
 he went not in himself; if he had found the young 
 man, he would have been horn-mad. [iside. 
 
 Caius. Fe, ft, fe, ft ! mafoi, il fait fort chaud. 
 Je m'en vais d la emir, la grand affaire. 
 
 Quick. Is it this, sir ? 
 
 Caius. Out/; mette le ait mnn pocket; depecht, 
 quickly : Vere is dat knave Rugby ! 
 
 Quick. What, John Rugby ! John ! 
 
 Ruj. Here, sir. 
 
 Cataj. You are John Rugby, and you are Jack 
 Rugby : come, take-a your rapier, arid come after 
 my neel to de court. 
 
 'Rug. 'Tis ready, sir, here in the porch. 
 
 Cains. By my trot, I tarry too long : Od's me ! 
 Qu'ay foublit ? dere is some simples in my closet, 
 dat I vill not for the varld I shall leave behind. 
 
 Quick. Ah ine ! he'll find the young man there, 
 and be mad. 
 
 Caius. O diablt, diablt ! rat is in my closet ? 
 Villany ! larron ! [Pulling Simple out.] Rugby, 
 my rapier. 
 
 Quick. Good master, be content. 
 
 Cains. Vercfore shall I be content-a ? 
 
 Quick. The younsr man is an honest man. 
 
 Cai'us. Vat shall de honest man do in my closet ? 
 dcre is no honest man dat shall come in my closet. 
 
 Quick. I beseech you, be not so flegmatic ; hear 
 the truth of it : he came of an errantf to me from 
 parson Hugh. 
 
 Cati. Veil. 
 
 Sim. Ay, forsooth, to desire her to 
 
 Quick. Peace, I pray you. 
 
 Caius. Peace-a your tongue: Speak-s vourtale. 
 
 Sim -- 
 maid 
 
 your 
 age, 
 
 5im. To desire this honest gentlewoman, < 
 id, to speak a good word to mistress Anne P 
 
 (1) Brave. (2) The keepr of a warren. 
 
 f$) Slded, reprimanded. 
 
 Cains. It is no matter-a for uat : 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 ap- 
 pointed mine host of de Jarterre to measure our 
 weapon : by gar, I vill 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-jer ! 4 
 
 Caius. Rugby, come to the court rit me ; by 
 gar, if I have not Anne Page, I shall turn your 
 head out of my door : Follow my heels, Rugby. 
 [Exeunt Caius and Rugoy. 
 
 Quick. You shall have An fools-head of your 
 uwn. 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. 
 
 Pent. [Within.] Who's within there, ho ? 
 
 Quick. Who's there, I trow? Come near the 
 house, I pray you. 
 
 Enter Fenton. 
 
 Pent. How now, good woman ; how dost thou 7 
 
 Quick. The better, that it pleases your goo<t 
 worship to ask. 
 
 Fenl. 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 wav ; I praise heaven for it. 
 
 Pent. 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 ? 
 
 Pent. Yes, marry, have I ; what of that ? 
 
 Quick. Well, thereby hangs a tale ; good faith, 
 
 (4) The goujere, what the pox !
 
 52 
 
 MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR. 
 
 Ad 11. 
 
 it is such another Nan: but, I detest, 1 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 t;iven too 
 much to allicholly 2 and musing : but lor you 
 Well, go to. 
 
 Pent. Well, I shall see her to-day : hold, there's 
 money for thee ; let me have thy voice in my be- 
 half: if thou seest her before me, commend me 
 
 Quiet. Will I ? i'laith, that we will : and I will 
 tell your worship more of the wart, the next time 
 we have confidence ; and of other wooers. 
 
 Fent. Well, farewell ; I am in great haste now. 
 
 [Exit. 
 
 Quick. Farewell to your worship. Truly, an 
 honest gentleman ; but Anne lov^s him not ; for 
 I know Anne's mind as well as an 
 
 Out upon't ! what have I forgot? 
 
 mother does :- 
 [Exit. 
 
 ACT II. 
 
 SCENE I. Before Page's house. Enter Jlfts- 
 tress Page, with a letter. 
 
 Mrs. Page. What ! have I 'scaped love-letters 
 in the holy-day time of my beauty, and am I now 
 a subject for them ? Let me sec : [reads. 
 
 Ask me 7io reason why I love you ; for though 
 love use reason for his precisian,* he admits him 
 not for his counsellor : You are not young, no 
 mare am I; go to then, there's sympathy : you 
 are merry, so am I; ha ! ha ! then there's more 
 sympathy : you love sack, and so tfo / ; would 
 you desire better sympathy ? Let it suffice thee. 
 
 me. By me, 
 
 Thine own true knight, 
 By day or night, 
 Or any kind of lieht, 
 With all his mi-Jit, 
 "or thee lofislit, 
 
 John FalstafT. 
 
 What a Herod of Jewry is this ! O 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 Vlemish 
 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 compa- 
 ny! What should I say to him? I was then 
 frugal of my mirth : heaven forgive me ! Why, 
 I'll exhibit a bill in the parliament for the putting- 
 down of men. How shall I be revenged on him ? 
 for revenged I will be, as sure as his guts are made 
 of puddings. 
 
 Enter Mistress Ford. 
 
 Mrs. Ford. Mistress Page! trust me, I was 
 goincr to vour house. 
 
 Mrs. Page. And, trust me, I was coming to 
 you. You look very ill. 
 
 Mrs. Ford. Nay, I'll ne'er believe that ; I have 
 to show to the contrary. 
 
 Mrs. Page. 'Faith, but vou do, in my mind. 
 
 Jtfr*. Ford. Well, I do then ; yet, I say, I could 
 
 (1) She means, I protest. (2) Melancholy. 
 (3) Most probably Shskspeare wrote Physician, 
 
 show you to the contrary : 0, mistress Page, gire 
 me some counsel ! 
 
 Mrs. Page. What's the matter, woman ? 
 
 Mrs. Ford. O woman, if it were not for one 
 trilling respect, I could come to such honour ! 
 
 Mrs. 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. Past. What ? thou liest ! Sir Alice 
 
 Ford! These knights will hack; and so thou 
 
 shouldst not alter the article of thy gentry. 
 
 Mrs. Ford. We burn day-light : here, read, 
 read ; perceive how I might be knighted. I sha41 
 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 un- 
 comeliness, that I would have sworn his disposition 
 would have gone to the truth of his words : but they 
 do no more adhere and keep place together, than 
 the hundredth psalm to the tune of Green Sleeves. 
 What tempest, I trow, threw this whale, with so 
 many tuns of oil in his belly, ashore at Windsor ? 
 How shall I be revenged on him ? I think the best 
 way were to entertain him with hope, till the wicked 
 fire of lust have melted him in his own grease. Did 
 you ever hear the like ? 
 
 Mrs. Page. Letter for letter ; but that the name 
 of Page and Ford differs ! To thy great comfort 
 in this mystery of ill opinions, here's the twin 
 brother of thy fetter : 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? 
 
 Jifr*. Page. Nay, I know not : it makes me al- 
 most 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'll 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 him on with 
 a fine-baited delay, till he hath pawn'd his horsei 
 to mine host of the Garter. 
 
 Mrs. Ford. Nay, I will consent to act any vil- 
 lany against him, that may not sully the chariness* 
 of our honesty. 0, that my husband saw this let- 
 ter ! 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, it an 
 unmeasurable distance. 
 
 Mrs. Ford. You are the happier woman. 
 
 Mrs. Pa<re. Let's consult together against thii 
 greasy knight : come hither. [ They retire. 
 
 Enter Ford. Pistol, Page, and Nym. 
 Ford. Well, hope, it be not o. 
 (4) Caution*
 
 MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR. 
 
 Piat. Hope is a, curtail 1 dog in some affairs : 
 Sir John affects thy wife. 
 Ford. Why, sir, my wife is not young. 
 Pitt. He woos both high and low, both rich and 
 
 poor, 
 
 Both young and old, one with another, Ford ; 
 He lores thy gally-mawfry ;* Ford, perpend. 1 
 
 Ford. Love my wife ? 
 
 Pist. With liver buminghot : prevent, or go thou, 
 Like sir Action he, with Ring-wood at thy heels : 
 0, odious is the name ! 
 
 Ford. What name, sir ? 
 
 Pist. The horn, I say : farewell. 
 Take heed, ere summer comes, or cuckoo-birds do 
 sing. 
 
 Away, sir corporal Nym. 
 
 Belie've it, Page ; he speaks sense. [Exit Pistol. 
 
 Ford. I will be patient ; I will find out this. 
 
 A"ym. And this is true. [To Page.] I like not 
 the humour of lying. He hath wrons;'d me in some 
 humours; I shoulcl have borne the numoured let- 
 ter 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 Nym. 
 
 Page. The humour of it, quoth 'a ! here's a fel- 
 low frights humour out of his wits. 
 
 Ford. I will seek out Falstaff. 
 
 Page. I never heard such a drawling, affecting 
 rotrue. 
 
 "Ford. If I do find iL well. 
 
 Page. I will not believe such a Catalan,* though 
 the priest o' the town commended him for a true 
 man. 
 
 Ford. 'Twas a good sensible fellow : Well. 
 
 Page. How now, Meg ? 
 
 Mn, 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, po. 
 
 Mrs. Ford. 'Faith, thou hast some crotchets in 
 thy head now. Will you 50, mistress Page? 
 
 Mrs. Page. Have with you. You'll come to 
 dinner, George? Look, who comes yonder: she 
 shall be our messenger to this paltry knight. 
 
 [Aside to Mn, Ford. 
 
 Enter Mistress Quickly. 
 
 Mrs. Ford. Trust me, I thought on her : she'll 
 fit it, 
 
 Mrs. Page. You are come to see my daughter 
 Anne? 
 
 Quiet. 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. 
 
 [Exe . Mrs. Pif* Mrs. Ford, andMrs. 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 truth in them ? 
 
 Page. Hang 'em, slaves! I do not think the 
 knight would offer it : but these that accuse him 
 
 (I) A dog that misses his came. (2) A medley. 
 (3) Coniider. (4) A lying sharper. 
 
 in his intent towards our wire, are a yoke of his 
 discarded men ; very rogues, now they be out of 
 service. 
 
 Ford. Were they his men ? 
 
 Page. Marry, were they. 
 
 Ford. I like it never the better for that Does 
 ne lie at the Garter ? 
 
 Page. Ay, marry, does he. If he should intend 
 ;his voyage towards my wife, I would turn her 
 oose 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 loth to turn them together : A man may be too 
 confident : I would have nothing lie on my head : I 
 cannot be thus satisfied. 
 
 Pagt. Look, where my ranting host of the Gar- 
 :er comes: there is either liquor in his pate, or 
 noney in his purse, when he looks o merrily. 
 How now, mine host ? 
 
 Enter Host and Shallow. 
 
 Host. How now, bully-rook ? thou'rt a gentle- 
 man : cavalero-justice, I say. 
 
 Shal. I follow, mine host, I follow. Good even 
 and twenty, good master Page ! Master Page, will 
 you go with us ? we have sport in hand. 
 
 Host, Tell him, cavalero-justice ; tell him, bully- 
 rook. 
 
 d. Sir, there is a fray to be fought, between 
 sir Hugh the Welsh priest, and Caius the French 
 doctor. 
 
 Ford. Good mine Jjost o' the Garter, a word 
 with you. 
 
 Host. What say'st thou, bully-rook? 
 
 [They go aside. 
 
 Sha!. Will vou [to Pa^e] go with us to behold 
 it? my merry nost hath had the measuring of their 
 weapons ; and, I think, he hath appointed them 
 contrary places : for, believe me, I hear, the par- 
 son is no jester. Hark, I will tell you what our 
 sport shall be. 
 
 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 to him, and tell 
 him, my name is Brook ; only for a jest. 
 
 Host. My hand, bully: thou shalt have caress 
 and regress ; said I well ? and thy name shall be 
 Brook : It is a merry knight. Will you go on, 
 hearts ? 
 
 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 Pai^e ; '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. Thongh 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. [Exit. 
 
 (5) Stout, bold. 
 
 (6) Did.
 
 54 
 
 MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR. 
 
 Jet II. 
 
 it ; you hare brought her into such a canaries,' as 
 'tis wonderful. The best courtier of them all, when 
 the court lay at Windsor, could never have brought 
 her to such a canary. Yet there has been knights, 
 and lords, and gentlemen, with their coaches ; I 
 warrant you, coach after coach, letter after letter, 
 gift after gift ; smelling so sweetly (all musk,) and 
 so rushling, I warrant you, in silk and gold ; and 
 
 , - , - in such alligant terms ; and in such wine and sugar 
 
 ed upon my good friends for three reprieves for you of the best and the ^^ thal would have W 6 on 
 
 and your coach-fellow* IS ym ; or else you nad any woman ' s hea rt ; and, I warrant you, they could 
 looked through the grate like H gemmy of baboons. | never gct an e y e -wink of her. I had myself 'twenty 
 I am damned: in hell, for swearing to gentlemen my j ange ls given me this morning : but I defy all angels 
 
 in the way of 
 could never get 
 cup with the proudest of 
 
 SCENE 7/.-vl room in the Garter Inn. Enter 
 Falstaff and Pistol., 
 
 Fat. I will not lend thee a penny. 
 
 Pist. Why, then the world's mine oyster, 
 Which I with sword will open. 
 I will retort the sum in equipage. 1 
 
 Fal. Not a penny. I have been content, air, you 
 should lay my countenance, to pawn : I have grat- 
 
 Pist. Didst thou not share ? hadst thou uot fif- 
 
 teen pence ? 
 
 Fal. Reason, you rogue, reason: Think' .*t thou, 
 I'll endanger my soul gratis ? At a word, hang no 
 more about me, I am no gibbet for you : -go. A 
 short knife and a throng :' to your manor of Pickt- 1 
 hatch, 4 go. You'll not bear a letter for me, you ' 
 rogue ! you stand upon your honour ! Why, thou 
 unconfmahle baseness, it is as much as I can do, to 
 keep the terms of my honour precise. I, I, I my- 
 seli sometimes, leaving the fear of heaven on the 
 left hand, and hiding mine honour in my necessity, 
 am fain to shuffle, to hedge, and to lurch ; and yet 
 you, rojjue, will ensconce 4 your rags, your cat-a- 
 mountam looks, your red- lattice' phrases, and your 
 bold-beating paths, under the shelter of your ho- 
 nour ! You will not do it, you ? 
 
 them all : and yet there has been earls, nay. which 
 is more, pensioners ; but, I warrant you, all is one 
 
 ur ! v ou WI ii not do it, you 1 F al. Ten and eleven ? Woman, commend me to 
 
 Put. I do relent j What would'st thou more of her I will not fail her. 
 
 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 ? 
 
 Qiiicfc. I'll be sworn ; as my mother was, the 
 first hour I was born. 
 
 Fal. I do believe the swearer : What with me ? 
 
 Q.UZC/C. Shall I vouchsafe your worship a word 
 or two ? 
 
 Fal. Two thousand, fair woman ; and I'll vouch- 
 safe thee the hearing. 
 
 Quicfc. There is one mistress Ford, sir ; I pray, 
 come a little nearer this ways : I myself dwell 
 with master doctor Caius. 
 
 Fal. Well, on : Mistress Ford, you say, 
 
 Quicfc. 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. 
 
 Qiticfc. Are they so ? Heaven bless them, and 
 
 jnake them his servants ! 
 
 Fal. Well: mistress Ford ; what of her? 
 
 Quicfc. Why, sir, she's a good creature. Lord, 
 lord ! your worship's a wanton : Well, heaven for- 
 give you, and all of us, I pray ! 
 
 Fal. Miotress Ford come, mistress Ford. 
 
 Quic/c. Marry, this is the short and the long ofl another'* mind 
 
 Pay you again in stolen goods. 
 Z) Draws along with you. 
 
 3) To cut purses in a crowd. 
 
 4) Pickt-hatch was in Clerkenwell, (5) Protect. 
 
 with her. 
 
 Fal. But what says she to me ? be brief, my good 
 she Mercury. 
 
 Qwicfc. 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 ? 
 
 Quicfc. 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 fram- 
 pold 9 life with him, good heart. 
 
 Qutcfc. Why, you say well : But I have another 
 messenger to your worship : Mistress Page hath 
 her hearty commendations to you too ; and let mo 
 tell you in your ear, she's as fartupus a civil modest 
 wife, and one (I tell you) that will not miss your 
 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 attraction 
 of my good parts aside, I have no other charms. 
 
 QtucA-. Blessing on your heart for't ! 
 
 Fal. But, I pray thee, tell me this ; has Ford's 
 wife, and Page's wife, acquainted each other how 
 they love me 7 
 
 QuicA:. 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 scud 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 m 
 Windsor leads a better life than she does ; do what 
 she will, say what she will, take all, pav all, go to 
 bed when she list, rise when she list, afl 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. 
 
 Qtticfc. 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 under 
 
 Ale-house. 
 
 71 A mistake of Mrs. Quicklv's for quandary. 
 8) Know. (9) Fretful, peevish. 
 10) By all means. (11) A watch-word.
 
 Sttne II. 
 
 stand any thing ; for 'tis not crood that children ; Fal. Very well, sir ; proceed. 
 
 should know any wickedness ; old folks, you know, Ford. There is a gentlewoman in this town, her 
 
 have discretion, as they say, and know the world, husband's name is Ford. 
 
 Fal. Fare thee we'll : ' commend me to them Fal. Well, sir. 
 both : there's my purse : I am yet thy debtor. Ford. I have long loved her, and, I protest to 
 
 . 
 
 Clap on more sails ; pursue, up with your lights ; <but niggardly give me sight of her: not only 
 
 Give lire ; she is my prize, or ocean whelm them;bo.ught many presents to give her, but have given 
 
 all ! [Exit Pistol. | largely to many, to know what she would have 
 
 Fu.'. Say'st thou so, oil Jack? go thy ways; given: briefly, I have pursued her, as love hath 
 
 I'll make 'more of thv old body than I have do'ne. pursued me ;' which hath been, on the wing of all 
 
 Will they yet look after thtc ) Wilt thou, alter occasions. Bat whatsover I have merited, either 
 
 the expense of so much money, be now a gainer ? i in my mind, or in my means, meed, 1 I am sure, I 
 
 Good bodv, I thank thec : Let them say, 'tis grossly have received none ; unless experience be a jewel : 
 
 done ; so it be fairly done, nu malar. * [that I have purchased at an infinite rate ; and that 
 
 hath taught me to say this : 
 n/er Bardolph. 
 
 Ban!. Sir John, there's one master Brook below 
 would fain speak with you, and be acquainted with 
 you ; and hath sent your worship a morning's 
 tlrau-rht of sack. 
 
 Fal. Brook, is his name 1 
 
 Bard. Ay, sir. 
 
 Fal. Call him in ; [Exit Bardolph.] Such 
 Brooks arc ' welcome to me, that o'erilow 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 7 
 Ford. I make bold, to press with so little pre- 
 paration upon you 
 
 us I 
 
 Pursuing that that files, and flying what pursues. 
 
 Fal. Have you received no promise of satisfac- 
 tion at her hands 1 
 
 Ford. Never. 
 
 Fal. Have you importuned her to such a pur- 
 pose ? 
 
 Ford. Never. 
 
 Fal. Of what quality was your love then ? 
 
 Ford. Like a fair house, built upon another 
 man's ttround ; so that I have lost my edifice, by 
 mistakincr 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 
 
 M V* * . * W*t i -It 1 / -> ''- lll*~f JVa Alt ULIK.I 1'lU.t-VOf Otlls ^IItU.1 liC I II lit I 
 
 Fal. \ou're welcome; \\ hat's your will f Give mirlh so far that tnere is shrewd constru ction 
 Irave, drawer. [but Bardolph. | mnde of her< Now sir j ohll) ^^ is the heart of 
 
 lord, sir, I am a gentleman that have spent mv purpose . YOU are a srentleman of excellent 
 much ; my name is Brook. breeding, admirable discourse, of great admit- 
 
 lal. Good master Brook, I desire more acquaint- tance,* 'authentic in your place and person, gene- 
 ance ol you. rally allowed 4 for vour many warlike, court-like. 
 
 lord. Good sir John, I sue for yours: not toj and learned preparations. ' 
 charge you ; for I must let you understand, 1 think p^ O sir ! 
 BT^^be^pt^t^^fendM-^ajnwcre: For ' d . Believe it, for you know it: There is 
 
 the which hath something enboldened rue to this 
 
 money spend -^ spend it d more . d 
 
 unseasoned intrusion; for they say, u money go (all t have onlv give me so much of your time in 
 
 ' 
 
 before, nil ways do lie open. 
 
 Fal. Money is a good soldier, sir, and will on. 
 
 Ford. Troth, and I have a bag of money here 
 troubles me ; if you will help me to bear it, sir 
 John, take all, or half, for easing me of the car- 
 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 
 
 exchange of it. as to lay an amiable siege to the 
 honesty of this Ford's wife : us your art of wooincr, 
 win her to consent to you ; if any man may, you 
 
 mav as soon as anv. 
 
 brief with you ;- 
 
 and YOU have been a man I 
 
 Fc.l. Would it apply well to the vehemency of 
 your aflection, that I should win what you would 
 enjoy ? Methinks, you prescribe to yourself very 
 preposterously. 
 
 Ford. O, understand my drift ! she dwells so 
 securely on the excellency of her honour, that 
 the folly of my soul dares not present itself; she is 
 too bright to be looked against. Now, could I come 
 t j her with any detection in my hand, my desires 
 
 . l > nanl had instance and argumentto commend themselves; 
 
 long known to me, though 4 had never so good j could drive ner ^ from the W ardof herpuritv. 
 means, as desire, to make myseli acquainted with her rcpu t a tion, her marriage-vow, and a thousand 
 you. I shall discover a thincr to you, wherein 1 
 must very much lay open mine own imperfection : 
 but, good sir John, as you have one eye upon my j j ln ? 
 
 follies, as you henr them unfolded, turn another p a f f Master Brook, I will first make bold with 
 into the register of your own ; tnat I may pass with I yourmoney next give me yourhand; and last, 
 a reproof the easier, sith' you yourself know, how as I am a gentleman, you shall, if you will, enjoy 
 an ofiender. p n l' ;& 
 
 other her defences, which now are too strongly 
 embattled against me : What say you lo't, sir 
 
 easy it is to be such an ofiender. 
 
 (1) A cant phrase of exultation. 
 
 (2) Since ... (3) Reward. 
 
 Ford's wife. 
 
 (4) In the greatest companies. 
 (6) Guard. 
 
 (5) Approved.
 
 56 
 
 MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR. 
 
 Jc 11. 
 
 Ford. Mod sir ! I Caius. By gar, he has save his soul, dat he is no 
 
 Fal. Master Brook, 1 say you shall. icome ; he has pray his Pible yell dat he is no 
 
 Ford. Want no money, sir John, you shall want come ; by gar, Jack Rugby, he is dead already, if 
 
 Fal. Want no mistress Ford, master Brook, you 
 shall want none. I shall be with her (I may tell 
 you,) by her own appointment ; even as you came 
 in to me, her assistant, or go-between, parted from 
 me : I say, I shall be with her between ten and 
 eleven ; for at that time the jealous rascally knave, 
 her husband, will be forth. Come you to m 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 
 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 
 mieht 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 : master Brook, thou shalt know, 
 I will predominate o'er the peasant, and thou shalt 
 lie with his wife. Come to me soon at night : 
 Ford's a knave, and I will aggravate his stile ; ' 
 thou master Brook, shalt know him for a knave 
 and cuckold : come to me soon at night. [Exit. 
 
 Ford. What a damned Epicurean rascal is this ! 
 My heart is ready to crack with impatience 
 Who says, this is improvident jealousy ? My wife 
 hath sent to him, the hour is fixed, the match is 
 made. Would any man have thought this ? See 
 the hell of having a false woman ! my bed shall 
 
 tie 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 as I vill 
 kill him. Take your rapier, Jack ; I vill tell you 
 how I vill kill him. 
 
 Rug. Alas, sir, I cannot fence. 
 
 Cams. Viklain-a, take your rapier. 
 
 Rug. Forbear ; here's company. 
 
 Enter Host, Shallow, Slender, and Page. 
 
 Host. 'Bless thce, bully doctor. 
 
 Sfial. 'Save you, master doctor Caius. 
 
 Page. Now, good master doctor ! 
 
 Slen. Give you good-morrow, sir. 
 
 Caius. Vat be all you, one, two, tree, four, come 
 
 be abused, my cSffers ransacked, my reputation * h Id t] S^. vou 8 a S ainst lh hair of your pro- 
 gnawnat; and I shall not only receive this villa- fessions:^is itnoUrue, ma 
 nous wrong, but stand under the adoption of abomi- 
 nable terms, and by him that does me this wrong. 
 Terms ! names ! Amaimon sounds well ; Lu- 
 cifer, well ; Barbason, well ; yet they are devil's 
 additions, the names of fiends: but cuckold ! wit- 
 tol* cuckold! the devil himself hath not such a 
 name. Page is an ass, a secure ass ; he will trust 
 his wife, he will not be jealous : I will rather 
 trust a Fleming with my butter, parson Hugh the 
 Welshman with my cheese, an Irishman with my 
 aquavitar 1 bottle, or a thief to walk my ambling 
 gelding, than my wife with herself: then she plots, 
 thsn she ruminates, then she devises : and what 
 thev think in their hearts they may effect, they 
 will break their hearts but they will effect. Heaven 
 be praised for my jealousy ! Eleven o'clock the 
 hour ; I will prevent this, detect my wife, be re- 
 venged on Falstaff', and laugh at Page. I will 
 about it ; better three hours too soon, than 
 
 minute too late, 
 cuckold ! 
 
 Fie, fie, fie ! cuckold ! cuckold ! 
 [Exit. 
 
 SCEJVJS ///. Windsor Park, 
 and Rugby. 
 
 Enter Caius 
 
 Caius. Jack Rugby ! 
 Rue. Sir. 
 
 Caiits. Vat is de clock, Jack ? 
 Rug. 'Tis past the hour, sir, that sir Hugh pro- 
 ilsed to meet. 
 
 (1 ) Add to his title. (2) Contented cuckold. 
 (3) Usquebaugh. (4) Fence. 
 
 (a) Terms in fencing. 
 
 for? 
 
 Host. To see thee fight, to see thee foin, 4 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 Ethi- 
 opian ? is he dead, my Francisco ? ha, bully ! 
 What says my ./Esculapius ? my Galen ? my heart 
 of elder? ha? is he dead, bully Stale ? is he dead? 
 
 Cains. By gar, he is de coward Jack priest of 
 de world : he is not show his face. 
 
 Host. Thou art a Castilian* king, Urinal ! Hec- 
 tor of Greece, my boy ! 
 
 Caius. I pray you, bear witness that me have 
 stay six or seven, two, tree hours for him, and he 
 is no come. 
 
 Slial. He is the wiser man, master doctor: he is 
 a curer of souls, and you a curer of bodies ; if you 
 
 ains , 1 lh | hair 
 master Page? 
 
 Page. Master Shallow, you have yourself been 
 a great fighter, though now a man of peace. 
 
 Skal. 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 Pa?e, we 
 lave some salt of our youth in us ; we are the son* 
 of women, master Page. 
 
 Page. 'Tis true, master Shallow. 
 
 Snal. It will be found so, master Page. Master 
 doctor Caius, I am come to fetch you home. I am 
 sworn of the peace: you have showed yourself a 
 wise physician, and sir Hugh hath shown himself 
 a wise and patient churchman : you must go with 
 me, master doctor. 
 
 Host. Pardon, guest justice : A word, monsieur 
 Muck-water ? T 
 
 Caius. Muck-vater ! vat is dat ? 
 
 Host. Muck-water, in our English tongue, is 
 valour, bully. 
 
 Caius. By gar, then I have as much muck-vater 
 as de Englishman : Scurvy jack-dog priest ! by 
 gar, me vill cut his ears. 
 
 Host. He will clapper-claw thee tightly, bully. 
 
 Caius. Clapper-de-claw ! vat is dat ? 
 
 Host. That is, he will make thee amends. 
 
 Cotus. 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 luc* master 
 
 (6} Cant term for Spaniard. 
 (7) Drain of a dunghill.
 
 Seen*/. 
 
 MEHRY WIVES OF WINDSOR, 
 
 guest, and master Page, and eke cavalero 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 ? 
 
 Stud. We will do it. 
 
 Page, Shal. and SUn. Adieu, good master doctor. 
 [Exeunt Page, Shallow, and Slender. 
 
 Cains. By par, me vill kill de priest ; for he 
 ipeak for a jack-an-ape to Anne Page. 
 
 Host. Let him die : but, first, sheath thy impa- 
 tience ; throw cold water on thy choler : go about 
 the fields with me through Frogmcre ; I will brinar 
 thce where Mrs. Anne rage is, at a farm-house a 
 feasting; and thou shalt woo her : Cry'd game, said 
 I well 7 
 
 Cains. 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, Je gentlemen, my 
 patients. 
 
 Host. For the which, I will be thy adversary to- 
 wards 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 I. JJ field near Frogman. Enter Sir 
 Hugh Evans and Simple. 
 
 Era. 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 city-ward, the park-ward, 
 every way ; old Windsor way, and every way but 
 the town way. 
 
 Eva. I most fehemently desire you, you will also 
 look that way. 
 Sim. I will, sir. 
 
 Eva. 'Pless my soul ! how full of cholers I am, 
 and tremplingof mind! I shall be glad, if he ha ye 
 deceived me: how melancholies I am! I will 
 knog his urinals about his knave's costard, 1 when I 
 have good opportunities for the 'ork : 'pless my 
 soul ! [Sings. 
 
 To shallow rivers, to whose falls 
 Melodious birds sing madrigals ; 
 There will we make our peas oj roses, 
 3id a thousand fragrant posies. 
 To shallow 
 
 Mercy on me ! I have a great dispositions to cry. 
 
 Melodious birds^ sing madrigals ; 
 When as I sat in Pabylon, 1 
 Aid a thousand fragrant posies. 
 To shallow 
 
 Sim. Yonder he is coming, this way, sir Hugh. 
 Eva. He's welcome : 
 
 To shallow rivers, to whose falls 
 
 Heaven prosper the right. ! What weapons is he ? 
 
 Sim. No weapons, sir: There comes my master, 
 master Shallo'.v, and another gentleman from Frog- 
 more, over the stile, this way. 
 
 (1) Head. 
 
 Era. Pray you, give me my gown ; or eUe keep 
 it in your arms. 
 
 Enter Page, Shallow, and Slender. 
 
 Shal. How now, master parson ? Good morrow, 
 good sir Hugh. Keep a gamester from the dice, 
 and a good student from his book, and it is won- 
 derful. 
 
 Slen. Ah, sweet Anne Page ! 
 
 Page. Save you, good sir Hugh ! 
 
 Eva. 'Pless you from his mercy sake, all of you ! 
 
 Shal. What ! the sword and the world ! do you 
 study them both, master parson ? 
 
 Page. And youthful still, in your doublet and 
 hose, this raw rheumatic day ? 
 
 Eva. There is reasons and causes for it. 
 
 Page. We are come to you, to do a good office, 
 master parson. 
 
 Eva. Fery well : what is it ? 
 
 Page. Vender 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 ; 
 [ never heard a man of his place, gravity, and 
 [earning, so wide of his own respect. 
 Tea. What is he? 
 
 Page. I think you know him ; master doctor 
 Caius, the renowned French physician. 
 
 Eva. Got's will, and his passion of my heart ! I 
 lad as lief you would tell me of a mess of por- 
 ridge. 
 
 Page. Why? 
 
 Eva. He has no more knowledge in Hibocrates 
 ind Galen, and he is a knave besides j a cowardly 
 mave, as you would desires to be acquainted withal. 
 
 Page. I warrant you, he's the man should fight 
 with him. 
 
 Slen. O, sweet Anne Page ! 
 
 Shal. It appears so, by his weapons : Keep 
 them asunder ; here comes doctor Caius. 
 
 Enter Host, Caius, and Rugby. 
 
 Pag-*. Nay, good master parson, keep in your 
 weapon. 
 
 Snal. 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 j)ray you, let-a me speak a word vit 
 your ear : \ erefore will you not meet-a me ? 
 
 Era. Pray you, use your patience : In good time. 
 
 Caius. By gar, you are ae coward, de Jack dog, 
 John ape. 
 
 Era. Pray you, let us not be laughine-stogs to 
 other men's humours ; I desire you in friendship, 
 and I will one way or other mak'e you amends : 
 I will knog your urinals about your knave's 
 cogscomb, for missing your meetings and appoint- 
 ments. 
 
 Caius. Diable ! Jack Rugby, mine Host de 
 Jarterre, have I not stay for him, to kill him ? hare 
 I not, atde place I did appoint? 
 
 Eva. As I am a Christians soul, now, look you, 
 this is the place appointed; I'll be judgment by 
 mine host of the Garter. 
 
 flout. Peace, I say, Gtiallia 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 Gar- 
 ter. Am I politic ? am I subtle ? am I a Machia- 
 
 (2) Babylon, the first line of the 137th Psalm. 
 H
 
 MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR. 
 
 Ad 111. 
 
 Tel? Shall I lose my doctor ? no; he gives me thelplots ! they are laid; and our revolted wive 
 
 potions, and the motions. Shall I lose my parson ? 
 my priest ? my sir Hugh? no; he gives me the 
 pro-verbs and the no-verbs. Give me thy hand, 
 terrestrial ; so : Give me thy hand, celestial : so. 
 
 Bovs 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. Cornc^ lay their swords to pawn : 
 Follow me, lad of peace ; (ollow, follow, follow. 
 
 Skal. Trust me, a mad host: Follow, gentle- 
 men, follow. 
 
 Sien. O, sweet Anne Page ! 
 
 [Exeunt Shal. Slen. Page, and Host. 
 
 Cains. Ha! do I perceive dat ? have you nuke- 
 a de sot 1 of us ? ha, ha ! 
 
 Eva. This is well ; he has made us his vlouting- 
 stog. 2 I desire you, that we may be friends ; and 
 
 share damnation together. Weil .; I will take him, 
 then torture my wife, pluck the borrowed veil ot 
 modesty from the so seeming 3 mistress Page, di- 
 vulge Page himself for a secure and wilful Actceon : 
 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 positive as the 
 earth is firm, that Falstaff is there : I will go. 
 
 Enter Pase, Shallow, Slender, Host, Sir Hugh 
 Evans, Caius, and Rugby. 
 
 Shal. Page, fcc. Well met, master Ford. 
 Ford. Trust me, a good knot : I have good 
 cheer at home ; and, I pray you, all go with me. 
 
 let us knog our prains together, to be revenge on Shal. I must excuse myself master Ford. 
 
 this same seall, scurvy, cogging companion, the I Slen. And so must I, sir; we have appointed 
 
 host of the Garter. to dine with mistress Anne, and I would not break 
 
 ceive me too. 
 Eva. Well, I will smite his noddies: 
 
 Cuius. By gar, yit all my heart; he promise 
 to bring me vere is Anne rage : by gar, he de- 
 Pray 
 you, follow. [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE II. The Street in Windsor. Enter 
 J\Irs. Page and Robin. 
 
 Mrs. Pa*e. Nay, keep your way, little gallant ; 
 you were wont to be a follower, but now you are a 
 leader : Whether had you rather, lead mine eyes, 
 or eye your master's heels ? 
 
 Rob. I had rather, forsooth, go before you like 
 a man, than follow him like a dwarf. 
 
 Mrs. Page.. O you are a flattering boy ; now, I 
 
 ee, you'll be a courtier. 
 
 Enter Ford. 
 
 with her for more money than I'll speak of. 
 
 Shal. We have linger'd about a match between 
 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 whol- 
 ly for you : but my wife, master doctor, is for 
 you altogether. 
 
 Caius. Ay. by gar ; and de maid is love-a me ; 
 my nursh-a Quickly tell rne 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, 4 he smells April 
 and May: he will carry't, he will curry't ; 'tis in 
 his buttons ; he \vill carry't. 
 
 Ford. 
 you? 
 
 Well met 
 
 Page. Not by my consent, I promise you. The 
 gentlemen is of no having: 6 helceptconipany with 
 the wild Prince and Poins ; he is of too higli a re- 
 i gion, he knows too much. No, he shall not knit a 
 
 mistress Page: \\ hither go j tnot m his fortunes with the linger of my sub- 
 stance : if he take her, let him take her simply 
 
 at home. ? 
 Ford. Av 
 
 Mrs. Page. Truly, sir, to see your wife : Is she 
 
 and as idle as she may hang together, 
 for want of company: I think, if your husbands 
 were dead, you two would marry. 
 
 Mrs. Page. Be sure of that, two other hus- 
 bands. 
 
 Ford. Where had you this pretty weather-cock ? 
 
 jMrs. 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 Falstalf. 
 
 Ford. Sir John Falstaff! 
 
 JVfrs. Page. He, he : I can never hit on's name. 
 There is such a league between my good man 
 and ha ! 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 Pacre any brains ? hath he any eves ? 
 hath he any thinking ? Sure, they sleep ; he liath 
 no use of them. Why, this boy will carry a letter 
 twenty miles, as easy as a cannon will shoot point- 
 blank twelve score. He pieces-out his wife's in- 
 clination ; he gives her folly motion, and advan- 
 tage: 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 Falstatf 's boy with her ! Good 
 
 (n Fool. (2) Flouting-stock. (3) Specious. 
 f4) Shall encourage. 
 
 the wealth I have waits on my consent, and my 
 consent froes not that way. 
 
 Ford. I beseech you, heartily, some of you fro 
 home with me to dinner : besides your cheer, you 
 shall have sport ; I will show you a monster.- 
 Master doctor, you shall go ; so shall you, master 
 Page ; and you, sir Hugn. 
 
 Shal. Well, fare you well : we shall have the 
 freer wooing at master Page's. 
 
 f 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 Host. 
 
 Ford. |y?si(/e.j I think, I shall drink in pipe- 
 wine first with him ; I'll make him dance. Will 
 
 Sit. Have with you, to see this monster. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE III.*! room in Ford's house. Enter 
 JMrs. Ford and Jilrs. Page. 
 
 Mrs. Ford. What, John ! what, Robert ! 
 Mrs. Page. Quickly, quickly : is the buck 
 basket 
 Mrs. Ford. I warrant : what, Robin, I say. 
 
 (5) Out of the common style. (6) Not rich.
 
 Setne TIL 
 
 MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR. 
 
 Enter Servants with a basket. I Jtf. Ford. Believe me, there'* no such thing 
 
 Mrs. Page. Come, come come. m j?J; mat made me love ^ec? , et ^ 
 
 .-Iri. ord. Here, set w n. suade u ^^ somet hing extraordinary in thee. 
 
 Mrs. Page. Give your men the charge , we c j ^goat* cog, and say, thou "-' 'tv,;. n,i 
 must be brief. 
 
 Mrs. Ford. Marry, as I told you before, , 
 
 and Robert, be ready here hard by in the brev miCKiero0ur> - , MU . P . e -uu,c . . ^,,.,0.= uu t 
 
 house ; and when I suddenly call you, come s forth, j j thee non - e but thee and thou deservest it- 
 and (without any pause or staggering ,) take this, #;&& Do not betray me, sir ; I fear, you 
 basket on your snoulders : ^nat done, trudge witn , . p 
 
 it in all haste, and curry it among the whitsters' ^J^JR^"^'^.* as well sav, I love to walk 
 Patchet Mead, and there empty it in the muddy b ^ Counter6 .| ate ; which is as'hateful to me as 
 ditctt, close by the Thames' side. tne reek of a lime = kiln '. 
 
 Mrs. Page. You will do it , j . Vr , t Forrf . We H, heaven knows, how Hove 
 
 .Mrs. Ford. I have told tnem over and over ; . _ ou - and vou sh all one dav find it 
 they lack DO direction : be gone, and come when, 3 f ^ K - in that mind - ru deservc it 
 you are called. ["'. ; ' lt ^"To<*- j ^/. Ford. Nav, I must tell you, so you do ; or 
 
 Mrs. Pa S e. Here comes little Kobin. L lse j cou!d not b g ' in that mind. 
 
 pp.. I Rob. [within.] Mistress Ford, mistress Ford ! 
 
 .nter Kobin. , h crc 5 s m istress Page at the door, sweating and 
 
 .Mr*. Ford. How now, my evas-musket ?* what 'blowing, and looking wildly, and would needs 
 news with vou 7 j speak with you presently. 
 
 .Ro&. My master, sir John, is come in at yourl JR* She shall not see me ; I will ensconce* me 
 back-door, mistress Ford ; and requests vour com-i behind the arras. 
 p anv I Mrs. Ford. Pray you, do so; she's a very tat- 
 
 Mrs. Page. You little Jack-a-lent, J have you tluig woman. [Falstafl'Atdw himself. 
 
 been true to us ? 
 
 Rob. Ay, I'll be sworn : my master knows not Enter ^WimsPage and Robin, 
 
 of vour being here; and hath threatened to puti,_ 
 
 me'into everlasting liberty, if I tell you of it j for, | What s the matter? how now? 
 he swears, he'll turn me away. L Wr *\? a = e - u mlst , ress Ford wha * haTe ^ ou 
 
 Mrs. Page. Thott'rt a good bov ; this secrecv of done ? ^ou're shamed, you are overthrown, you 
 thine shall be a tailor to thee, and shall make thee are undone for ever, 
 a new doublet and hose.-I'll go hide me. I _ - v - ^ard. \\ hat'* the matter, good mistress 
 
 Mrs. Font. Do so: Go tell thy master, I am 
 alone. Mrs. Page, remember you your cue. 
 
 [Exit Robin. 
 
 Mrs. Page. I warrant thee ; if I do not act it, 
 his> ;ne. [Exit Mrs. Page. 
 
 Mrs. Ford. Go to then ; we'll use this unwhole- 
 some humidity, this gross watry pumpion ; we'll 
 teach him to know turtles from jays. 
 
 Enter FalstaflT. 
 Fed. Hare I caught thee, my heavenly jeicel ? 
 
 Page? 
 
 Mrs. Page. O wcll-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 up- 
 on you ! how am I mistook in you ! 
 
 Mrs. Ford. NVhy, alas ! what's the matter? 
 
 Mrs. Page. Your husband's coming hither, wo- 
 man, with all the officers in Windsor,lo search for 
 a gentleman, that, he says, is here now in the 
 house, by your consent, to take an ill advantage of 
 
 Why 7 now let me die, for I have lived long enough ; [his absence. You are undone. 
 
 this is the period of my ambition : this blessed Mrs. Ford. Speak louder. [2sWe .] 'Tis not 
 
 hour ! so, I hope. 
 
 Mrs. Ford. O sweet sir John ! Mrs. Page. Pray heaven it be not so, that you 
 
 Fal. Mistress Ford, I cannot co?, I cannot prate, I have such a man here ; but 'tis most certain your 
 
 Mistress Ford. Now shall I sin in my wish: I j husband's coming, with half Windsor at his heels. 
 
 would thv husband were dead : I'll spealt it before ] to search for such a one. I come before to tell 
 
 the best jprd, I would make thee myMady. (you : if you know yourself clear, why I am glad 
 
 Mrs. Ford. I your lady, sir John ! alas, I should 
 be a pitiful lady. 
 
 Fal. Let the'court of France show me such ano- 
 ther ; I see how thine eyes would emulate the 
 
 of it : but if you have a friend here, convey, con- 
 vey him out. Be not amazed ; call all your senses 
 to you ; defend your reputation, or bid farewell to 
 your good lifo forever. 
 
 diamond : thou hast the rizht arched bent of the Mrs. Ford. What shall I do? There is a gen- 
 brow, that becomes the ship-tire, the tire-valiant, j tlcman, ray dear friend ; and I fear not mine own 
 or any tire of Venetian admittance.* shame, so much as his peril : I had rather than a 
 
 Mrs. Ford. A plain kerchief, sir John: my thousand pound, he were out of the house. 
 
 brows become nothing else ; nor that well neither. 
 Fal. Thou art a traitor to say so : thou would'st 
 make an absolute courtier and the firm fixture of 
 thy foot would give an excellent motion to thy gait, 
 in a semi-circled farthingale. I see what thou 
 wert, if fortune thy foe were not ; nature is thy 
 friend : come, thou canst not hide it. 
 
 (1) Bleachers oflinen. 
 
 (2) A young small hawk. 
 
 (3) A puppet thrown at in Lent, like shrove-cocks. 
 
 Mrs. Page. For shame, never stand you had 
 rather, and you had rather; your husband's here 
 at hand, bethink you of some conveyance : in the 
 house you cannot hide him. O, how have you de- 
 ceived me ! Look, here is a basket ; if he be of 
 any reasonable stature, he may creep in here ; and 
 throw foul linen upon him, a if it were going to 
 
 Venetian fashions. 
 
 Formerly chiefly inhabited by druggists. 
 6) Prison. (7) "Hide. (S) Tapestry.
 
 MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR. 
 
 Act Jll. 
 
 bucking: or, it is whiting-time,' send him by your 
 men to Datchet Mead. 
 
 Mrs. Ford. He's too big to go in there : what 
 hail I do ? 
 
 Re-enler Falstaff. 
 
 Fat. Let me see't. let me see't! let me see't ! 
 I'll in, I'll in: follow your friend's counsel: 
 I'll in. 
 
 Mrs. Page. What! sir John Falstaff! Are these 
 your letters, knight ? 
 
 Fal. I love thee, and none but thee ; help me 
 away : let me creep in here ; I'll never 
 
 [He goes into the basket ; they cover him with 
 fold linen.] 
 
 Mrs. Page. Help to cover your master ? boy : call 
 your men. mistress Ford: You dissembling fcnurhU 
 
 Mrs. Ford. What, John, Robert, John ! [Exit 
 Robin; re-enter Servants.] Go take up these 
 clothes here, quickly- where's the cowl-staff? 2 
 look, how you drumble :* carry them to the laun- 
 dress in Datchet Mead ; quickly, come. 
 
 Enter Ford, Page, Caius, and Sir Hugh Evans. 
 
 Ford. Pray you, come near : if I suspect with- 
 out cause, why then make sport at me, then let me 
 be your jest; I deserve it. How now? whither 
 bear you this ? 
 
 Sen. To the laundress, forsooth. 
 
 Mrt. Ford. Why, what have you to dp whither 
 they bear it ? you were best intddle with buck- 
 washing. 
 
 Ford. Buck? I would I could wash myself of 
 the buck! Buck, buck, buck? ay, buck; I war- 
 rant you. buck ; and of the season too, it shall ap- 
 pear. [Exeunt Servants with Ihebasket.} Gentle- 
 men, I have dreamed to-night ; I'll tell you my 
 dream. Here, here, here be my keys : ascend my 
 chambers, search, seek, find out : I'll warrant, we'll 
 unkennel the fox : Let me stop this way first : 
 So, now, uncape.* 
 
 Page. Good master Ford, be contented : you 
 wrong yourself too much. 
 
 Ford. True, master Page. Up, gentlemen ; you 
 shall see sport anon : follow me, gentlemen. 
 
 [Exit. 
 
 Eva. This is fery fantastical humours, and jea- 
 lousies. 
 
 Cam*. Bj jpr, 'tis no de faslu'on of France : it 
 is not jealous in France. 
 
 Page. Nay, follow him, gentlemen ; see the issue 
 of his search. [Exeunt Evans, Page, and Caius. 
 
 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 who 4 was in the basket ! 
 
 JVfrs. Ford. I am half afraid he will have need of 
 washing ; so throwing him into the water will do 
 him a benefit 
 
 Mrs. Page. Hangr him, dishonest rascal! I 
 would, all of the same strain were in the same 
 distress. 
 
 Mrs. Ford. I think, my husband hath some spe- 
 cial suspicion of FalstafPs 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 nave more tricks with Falstaff: his dis- 
 solute disease will scarce obey this medicine. 
 
 (1) Bleaching-time. 
 
 tt) A staff for carrying a Urge tub or basket, , 
 
 Mrs. Ford. Shall we send that foolish carrion, 
 mistress Quickly, to him, and excuse his throwing 
 into the water ; and give him another hope, to be- 
 tray him to another punishment ? 
 
 Mrs. Page. We'll 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 knara 
 bragged of that he could not compass. 
 
 Mrs. Page. Heard you that ? 
 
 Mrs. Ford. Ay, ay, peace : You use me well, 
 master Ford, do you ? 
 
 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. 
 
 Eva. 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, lie, master Ford ! are you not asham- 
 ed ? What spirit, what devil suggests this imagina- 
 tion ? I would not have your distemper in this kind, 
 for the wealth of Windsor Castle. 
 
 Ford. 'Tis my fault, master Page : I suffer for it. 
 
 Eva. You suffer for a pad conscience : your wife 
 is as honest a 'omans, as I will desires among five 
 thousand, and live 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, whv 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 morn- 
 ing: to mv house to breakfast : after, we'll a bird- 
 ing together ; I have a fine hawk for the bush : 
 shall it be so ? 
 
 Ford. Any thing. 
 
 Eva. If there is one, I shall make two in the 
 company. 
 
 Caius'. If there be one or two, I shall make-a de 
 tird. 
 
 Eva. In your teeth : for shame. 
 
 Ford. Pray you go, master Pace. 
 
 Eva. I pray you now, remembrance to-morrow 
 on the lousy knave, mine host. 
 
 Caitts. Dat is good ; by gar, vit all my heart. 
 
 Eva. A lousy knave ; to have his jibes and his 
 mockeries. [Exeunt 
 
 SCENE IV.*<1 room in Page's house. Enter 
 Fenton and Mistress Anne Page. 
 
 Fcnt. I see, I cannot get thy father's love ; 
 Therefore, no more turn me to him, sweet Nan. 
 
 Jlnne. Alas! how then? 
 
 Fent. Why, thou must be thyself. 
 
 He doth object, I am too p eat 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 j 
 And tells me, 'tis a thing impossible 
 I should love thee, but as a property. 
 
 Anne. May be, he tells you true. 
 
 (8) Drone. (4) Unbag the fox. (5) Wh*U
 
 Scent 
 
 MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR. 
 
 61 
 
 Fenl. No, beaten 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 : 
 Vet, wooing 1 thee, I found thee of more value 
 Than stamps in gold, or sums in sealed bags ; 
 And 'tis the very riches of thyself 
 That now I aim at. 
 
 Anne. Gentle master Fenton, 
 Yet seek my father's love : still seek it, sir : 
 If opportunity and humhle suit 
 Cannot attain it, why then Hark you hither. 
 
 [They converse apart. 
 
 Enter Shallow, Slender, and Mrs. Quickly. 
 
 Shal. Break their talk, mistress Quickly ; my 
 kinsman shall speak for himself. 
 
 Slen. I'll make a shaft or a bolt on't: 1 slid, 'tis 
 but venturing. 
 
 Shal. Be not dismav'd. 
 
 Slen. No, she shall not dismay me : I care not 
 for that. but that I am afeard. 
 
 Quick. Hark ye ; master Slender would speak a 
 word with you. 
 
 An ne. I come to him. This is my father's choice. 
 O, what a world of vile ill-favour'd faults 
 Looks handsome in three hundred pounds a year ! 
 
 [Aside. 
 
 Quiet. And how does good master Fenton ? 
 Pray you, a word with you. 
 
 Snal. She's coming : to her, coz, O boTi thou 
 hadst a father ! 
 
 Slen. I had a father, mistress Anne ; my uncle 
 can tell you pood 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 yon. 
 
 Slen. Ay, that I do ; as well as I love any woman 
 in Glocestershire. 
 
 Shal. He will maintain you like a gentlewoman. 
 
 Slen. Ay, that I will, come cut and long-tail, 5 
 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'll leave 
 you. 
 " Anne. Now, master Slender. 
 
 Slen. Now, pood mistress Anne. 
 
 Anne. What is your will ? 
 
 Sltn. My will ? od's heartlings, that's a pretty 
 iest, 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 ? 
 
 Sltn. Truly, for mine o-.vn part, I would little or 
 nothing with you : your father, and my uncle, have 
 made motions: if it be my luck, so : If not, happv 
 man be his dole ! J They can tell you how things 
 so, better than I can : you may ask your father ; 
 hr he comes. 
 
 Enter Page, and Mistress Page. 
 
 Page. Now, master Slender .-Love him, daugh- 
 ter Anne. 
 
 Why, how now ! what does master Fenton here ? 
 You wrong me, sir, thus still to haunt my house : 
 
 (1) A proverb a shaft was a long arrou. and a 
 
 bolt ft thick short one. 
 
 I told you, sir, my daughter ts dispos'd of. 
 
 Pent. Nay, master Page, be not impatient. 
 
 Mrs. Page. Good master Fenton, come not to 
 my child. 
 
 Page. She is no match for you. 
 
 Pent. Sir, will you hear me ? 
 
 Page. No, good master Fenton. 
 
 Come, master Shallow : come, son Slender: in : 
 
 Knowing my mind, you wrong me, master Fenton. 
 
 [Exeunt Page, Shallow, and Slender. 
 
 Quicfc. Speak to mistress Page. 
 
 Fenl. Good mistress Page, for that I lore your 
 
 daughter 
 
 In such a righteous fashion as I do, 
 Perforce, against all checks, rebukes, and manners, 
 I must advance the colours of my love, 
 And not retire : let me have your good will. 
 
 Anne. Good mother, do not inarry me to yond' 
 fool. 
 
 Mrs. Page. 1 mean it not ; I seek you a better 
 husband. 
 
 Quicfc. That's my master, master doctor. 
 
 Anne. Alas, I haa 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 ancry. 
 
 [Exeunt Mrs. Page and Anue. 
 
 Pent. Farewell, gentle mistress ; farewell, Nan. 
 
 Qutcfc. This is my doing now ; Nay, said I, will 
 vou cast away your child on a fool, and a physician ? 
 Look on master Fenton : this is my doing. 
 
 Pent. I thank thee ; and I pray thee, once to 
 
 night 
 
 Give my sweet Nan this ring : there's for thy pains. 
 
 [Exit. 
 
 Quicfc. Now heaven send thee good fortune ! A 
 kind heart he hath : a woman would run through 
 fire and water for such a kind heart. But yet, I 
 would my master had mistress Anne ; or I would 
 master Slender had her; or, in sooth, I would 
 master Fenton had her : I will do what I can for 
 them all three ; for so I have promised, and I'll be 
 as good :is my word ; but speciously* for master 
 Fenton. Well, I must of another errand to sir John 
 Falstafffrom my two mistresses ; what a beast am 
 I to slack 4 it ! [Exit. 
 
 SCENE V.JJ room in the Garter Inn. Enter 
 Falstaff and Bardolph. 
 
 Pal. Bardolph, I say, 
 
 Bard. Here, sir. 
 
 Pal. Go fetch me a quart of sack ; put a toast in't. 
 [Exit Bard.] Have I lived to be carried in a basket, 
 like a barrow of butcher's offal ; and to be thrown 
 into the Thames? Well; if I be served such an- 
 other trick, I'll have my brains ta'en out, and but- 
 tcr'd, and give them to a dog for a new year's gift. 
 The rogues slighted me into" the river with as little 
 remorse as Ihcv would have drown'd a bitch's 
 blind 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 lhat I abhor ; for the 
 water swells a man ; and what a thing should 1 
 
 (2} Come poor or rich. (S) Lot. (4) Specially, 
 (9) Neglect, (6)Ptty,
 
 MERRY WIVES Of WINDSOR. 
 
 Ford. W T haL while you were there ? 
 Fal. W T hile 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, by her invention, and 
 Ford's wife's distraction, they conveyed me u>tc * 
 buck-basket. 
 Ford. A buck-basket ! 
 
 Fal. By the Lord, a buck-basket : rammed me 
 in with foui shirts and smocks, socks, foul stockings, 
 and greasy napkins ; that, master Brook, there was 
 Uie rankest compound of villanous smelt, that ever 
 offended nostril. 
 
 Ford. And how long lay you there ? 
 Fal. Nay, you shall hear, master Brook, what I 
 lave 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 calleu forth by 
 their mistress, to carry me in the name of foul 
 
 brewage. [ Exit Bardolph.] How now? * (clothes to Datchet-lane : they took me on their 
 
 Quick. Marry, sir, I come to your worship from shoulders ; met the'jealous knave, their master, in 
 mistress Ford. the door ; who asked them once or twice what thev 
 
 Fal. Mistress Ford ! I have had ford enough : I had in their basket. I quaked for fear, lest the 
 was thrown into the ford : I have my belly full of lunatic knave would have searched it ; but Fate 
 
 o-daining he should be a cuckold, held his hand. 
 Well : on went he for a search, and away went I 
 for foul clothes. But mark the sequel, master Brook : 
 I suffered the pangs of three several deaths : first, 
 an intolerable fright, to be detected with a jealous 
 rotten-bell-wether : next, to be compassed like a 
 good bilbo, 2 in the circumference of a peck, hilt to 
 
 have been, when I had been swelled! I slioulc 
 hare been a mountain of mummy. 
 
 Re-enter Bardolph, with the wine. 
 
 Bard. Here's mistress Quickly, sir, to speak 
 with you. 
 
 Fat. Come, let me pour in some sack to the 
 Thames water ; for my belly's as cold, as if I had 
 swallowed snow-balls for pills to cool the reins. 
 Call her in. 
 
 Bard. Come in, woman. 
 
 Enter Jfrs. 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 egg's, sir ? . 
 
 Fal. Simple of itself; I'll no pullet-sperm in my 
 
 ford. 
 
 Quick. Alas the day ! good heart, thnt 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 
 
 laments, sir, fo^ it, that it 
 
 woman s promise. 
 Quick. Well, sh 
 
 would yearn your hsart to see it. Her husband j point, heel to head: and then, to be slopped in, like 
 goes this morning a birding; she desires you once I a stron? distillation, with stinking clothes that fret- 
 
 more to come to her between eisjht and nine : I must 
 carry her word quickly : she'll make you amends, 
 I warrant you. 
 
 Fal. Well, I will visit her: tell h;r so ; and hid 
 her think, what a man is : let her consider his 
 frailty, and then judge of my merit. 
 
 Quick. I will tell her. 
 
 Fat. Do so. Between nine and ten, say'st thou ? 
 
 Quiet. Eight and nine, sir. 
 
 Fal. Well, be pone : I will not. miss her. 
 
 Quick. Peace be with you, sir ! f Exit. 
 
 fal. I marvel, I hoar not of master Brook; he 
 sent me word to stay within : I like his money well. 
 O, here he comes. 
 
 Enter Ford. 
 
 Ford. Bless you, sir ! 
 
 Fal. Now, master Brook ; you come to l:now 
 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 how speed you, sir ? 
 
 Fal. Very ill- favoured! V, master Brook. 
 
 Ford. How so, sir ? Did she change her deter- 
 mination ? 
 
 Fal. No, master Brook ; but the pr>akin* cornu 
 to, her husband, master Brook, dwelling in a con 
 
 ted 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, 3 sir, I am sorry that for 
 my sake you have suffered all this. My suit then 
 is desperate ; you'll undertake her no more. 
 
 Fal. Master'Brook, I will be thrown into /Etna, 
 as I have been into the Thames, ere I will leave 
 her thu.. Her husband is this morning gone a bird- 
 ing : 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 appoint- 
 ment. Come to me at vour convenient leisure, and 
 you shall know howl speed; and the conclusion 
 shall be crowned with your enjoying her : adieu. 
 You shall have her, master Brook ; master Brook, 
 you shall cuckold Ford. [Exit. 
 
 Ford. Hum ! ha ! isthis a vision ? is this a dream ? 
 
 ter 
 
 master 
 e linen. 
 
 (1) Cups. 
 
 (?) BUboa, where the best blades are mode. 
 
 temper, and, forsooth, to search his house for his guides him should aid him, I will search impossible 
 s love - places. Though what I am I cannot avoid, yet to 
 
 (3) Seriousness. '4) Make myself readj.
 
 Scene /, //. 
 
 MERRY WfVES OP WINDSOR. 
 
 be what I would not, shall not make me tame : if 
 I have horns to make one mad, let the proverb 50 
 with me, I'll be horn mad. [Exit. 
 
 ACT IV. 
 
 SCENE LThe Street. Enter Mrs. Page, Mrs. 
 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 1 mad, about his 
 throwing into the water. Mistress Ford desires you 
 to come suddenly. 
 
 Mrs. Page. I'll be with her by and by ; I'll but 
 briny 1 my young man here to school : look, where 
 his master conies ; 'tis a playing-day, I see. 
 
 Enter Sir Hugh Evans. 
 
 How now, sir Hugh ? no school to-day? 
 
 Ecu. No ; master Slender is let the boys leave 
 to play. 
 
 Quick. Blessing of his heart! 
 
 Mrs. Page. Sir Hugh, mv husband says, my 
 son profits nothing in the world at his book ; I pray 
 you. ask him some questions in his accidence. 
 
 Eva. Come hither, William; hold up your 
 head ; come. 
 
 Mrs. Page. Come on, sirrah ; hold up your 
 head ; answer your master, be not afraid. 
 
 Eva. William, how many numbers is in nouns ? 
 
 Will. Two. 
 
 Quick. Truly, I thousrht there had been one 
 number more ; because they sav, od's nouns. 
 
 Eva. Peace your tattlings. What is fair, Wil- 
 liam ? 
 
 Will. Pidcher. 
 
 Quick. Poulcats ! there are fairer things than 
 poulcats, sure. 
 
 Eva. You are a very simplicity 'oman ; I pray 
 you, peace. What is lapis, William ? 
 
 Will. A stone. 
 
 Eva. And what is a stone, William ? 
 
 Will. A pebble. 
 
 Era. No, it is lapis; I pray you remember in 
 your prain. 
 
 Will. Lapis. 
 
 Eva. That is good William. What is he, Wil- 
 liam, that docs lend articles ? 
 
 Will. Articles are borrowed of the pronoun ; 
 and be thus declined, Singulariter, nominative, 
 hie, h<tc, hoc. 
 
 Eva. Nominalivo, /u>, hag, hog ; pray you 
 mark: genitivo, hujus : Well, what is your accu- 
 sative case 7 
 
 Will. .Accusative, hinc. 
 
 Eva. I pray you, have your remembrance, 
 child; Accusative, liing.hang, liog. 
 
 Quick. Hang hog is Latin for bacon, I warrant 
 you. 
 
 .Era. Leave your prabbles, 'oman. What is 
 the focativ e case, William ? 
 
 Will. 0Vocalivo, O. 
 
 Eva. Remember, William ; focative is, caret. 
 
 Quick. And that's a good root. 
 
 (1) Outrageous. (2) Breeched, i. c. flogged. 
 (3) Apt to learn, (4) Sorrowful. (5) Mad fits. 
 
 Eva. 'Oman, forbear. 
 
 Mrs. Page. Peace. 
 
 Eva. What is your genitive case, plurd, Wfl 
 liam? 
 
 Will. Genilive case ? 
 
 Eva. Ay. 
 
 W ill. Genitive, homm, harum, horttm. 
 
 Quick. 'Vengeance of Jenny's case! fie oit 
 her ! never name her, child, if she be a whore. 
 
 Eva. For shame, 'oman. 
 
 Quick. You do ill to teach the child such words : 
 he teaches him to hick and to hack, which they'll 
 do fast enough of themselves ; and to call horurn : 
 fie upon you ! 
 
 Eva. 'Oman, art thou lunatics? hast thou no 
 understandings for thy cases, and ths numbers of 
 the genders ? Thou art as foolish Christian crea- 
 tures as I would desires. 
 
 Mrs. Page. Pr'y thee, hold thy peace. 
 
 Eva. Show me now, William, some declensions 
 of your pronouns. 
 
 Will. Forsooth, I have forgot. 
 
 Eva. It is ki, kce, cod; if you forget your kits, 
 your kccs, and your cods, you must be preeches.* 
 'Go your ways, and play, go. 
 
 Jar*. Page. He is a better scholar than I 
 thought he was. 
 
 Eva. He is a good sprag* memory. Farewell, 
 mistress Page. 
 
 Mrs. Page. Adieu, good sir Hugh. [Exit Sir 
 Hugh.] Get you home, boy. Come, we stay 
 toolong. [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE II. ^1 room in Ford's house. Enter 
 FalstalT and Mrs. 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, complement, and ceremo- 
 ny of it. But are you sure of your husband now? 
 
 Mrs. Ford. He's a birding, sweet sir John. 
 
 Mrs. Page. [Within.] What hoa, gossip Ford! 
 what hoa ! 
 
 Mrs. Ford. Step into the chamber, sir John. 
 
 \Exft Falstaff. 
 
 Enter Mrs. Page. 
 
 Mrs. Page. How now, sweetheart? who's at 
 home beside yourself? 
 
 Mrs. Ford. Why, none but mine own people. 
 
 Mrs. Page. Indeed ? 
 
 Mrs. Ford. No, certainly; speaklouder. [Aside. 
 
 Mrs. Page. Truly, I aw so glad you have no- 
 bodv here. 
 
 Mrs. Ford. Why? 
 
 Mrs. Page. Why, woman, your husband is in 
 his old limes* again : he so tak'es on yonder xvith 
 my husband ; so rails asrainst all married mankind ; 
 so curses all Eve's daughters, of wnat complexion 
 soever; and ho buffets hims-elf on the forehead, 
 crying, peer out, peer out !" that any madness I 
 'ever yot beheld, seemed but lameness, civility, 
 and patience, to this his distemper he is in now : 1 
 am glad the Tat knight is not her". 
 
 Mrs. Ford. Why, does he talk of him ? 
 
 Mrs. Page. Of none but him ; and swears, he 
 was carried out, the las* time he searched for him, 
 in a basket : protests to my husband, he is now 
 
 (6) As children call on a snail to push forth hU 
 horns.
 
 MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR. 
 
 Act IT. 
 
 here ; and hath drawn him and the rest of their 
 company from their sport, to make another experi- 
 ment 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 ? 
 
 Mrs. Page. Hard by ; at street end ; he will 
 be here anon. 
 
 Mrs. Ford. I am undone ! the knight is here. 
 
 JVfr. Page. Why, then you are utterly shamed, 
 and he's but a dead man. What a woman are 
 you ! Away with him, away with him ; better 
 shame than murder. 
 
 Mrs. Ford. Which way should he go ? how 
 should I bestow him ? Shall I put him into the bas- 
 ket again? 
 
 Re-enter FahtafU 
 
 Fal. No, I'll come no more i' the basket : may 
 I not go out, ere he come ? 
 
 Mrs. Page. Alas, three of master Ford's bro- 
 thers watch the door with pistols, that none should 
 issue out ; otherwise you might slip away ere he 
 came. But what make you here ? 
 
 Fal. What shall I do ? I'll creep up into the 
 chimney. 
 
 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 1 for the remembrance of such 
 
 E laces, and goes to them by his note : there is no 
 iding you in the house. 
 
 Fal. I'll go out then. 
 
 Mrs. Page. If you go out in your own sem- 
 blance, you die, sir John. Unless you go out dis- 
 guised, 
 
 Mrs. Ford. How might we disguise him ? 
 
 Mrs. Page. Alas the day, I know net There 
 is no woman's gown big enough for him ; other- 
 wise, he might put on a hat, a muffler, and a ker- 
 chief, and so escape. 
 
 Fal. Good hearts, devise something : any extre- 
 mity, 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 thrum'd hat, 
 and her muffler too : run up, sir John. 
 
 Mrs. Ford. Go, go, sweet sir John ; mistress 
 Pace and I will look some linen for your head. 
 
 Mrs. Page. Quick, quick ; we'll come dress 
 you straight : put on the gown the while. 
 
 [Exit Fal. 
 
 Mrs. Ford. I would my husband would meet 
 him in this shape : he cannot abjde 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! 
 
 Mm. Ford. But is my husband coming? 
 
 Mrs. Page. Ay, in good sadness, 2 is he ; and 
 talks of the basket too, howsoever he hath had in- 
 telligence. 
 
 Mrs. Ford. We'll try that ; for I'll appoint my 
 men to carry the basket again, to meet him at the 
 door with it, as they did last time. 
 
 Mrs. Page. Nay, but he'll be here presently: 
 Ut's go dress him like the witch of Brentford. 
 
 (1) Sho-t note of, (2) Seriousness, 
 
 Mrs. Ford. I'll first direct my men, what they 
 shall do with the basket. Go up, I'll bring liner, 
 for him straight [Exit. 
 
 Mrs. Page. Hang him, dishonest varlet ! we 
 cannot misuse him enough. 
 We'll leave a proof, by that which we will do, 
 Wives may be merry, and yet honest too : 
 We do not act, that often jest and laugh ; 
 'Tis old but true, Still swine eat all tht draff. 
 
 [Exit. 
 
 Re-enter Mrs. Ford, with two servants. 
 
 Mrs. Ford. Go, sirs, take the basket again on 
 your shoulders; your master is hard at door : if he 
 rid you set it down, obey him : quickly, despatch. 
 
 [Exit. 
 
 1 Sen?. Come, come, take it up. 
 
 2 Sen. Pray heaven, it be not full of the knight 
 again. 
 
 1 Serr. I hope not ; I had as lief bear so much 
 lead. 
 
 Enter Ford, Page, Shallow, Caius, end Sir Hugh 
 Evans. 
 
 Ford. Ay, but if it prove true, master Page, 
 tiave you any way then to unfool me again ? Set 
 down the basket, villain : Somebody call my 
 
 wife: You, youth in a basket, come out here ! 
 
 0, you panderly rascals ! there's a knot, a ging,* 
 a pack, a conspiracy against me : now shall the 
 devil be shamed. What ! wife, 1 say ! come, 
 come forth ; behold what honest clothes you send 
 forth to bleaching. 
 
 Page. Why, this passes ;* Master Ford, you 
 are not to g'o loose any longer ; you must be 
 pinioned. 
 
 Eta. Why, this is lunatics ! this is mad as a mad 
 dog! 
 
 ihal. Indeed, master Ford, this is not well ; 
 indeed. 
 
 Enter Mrs. Ford. 
 
 Ford. So say I too, Sir. Come hither, mistress 
 Ford ; mistress Ford, the honest woman, the 
 modest %vife, the virtuous creature, that hath the 
 jealous fool to her husband! 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. 
 
 [Pulls the clothes out of the basket. 
 
 Page. This passes ! 
 
 Mrs. Ford. Are you not ashamed? let the 
 clothes alone. 
 
 Ford. I shall find you anon. 
 
 Eva. '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 convoyed 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 (lea's death. 
 
 Page. Here's no man. 
 
 (3) Gang. (4) Surpasses, to go beyond bounds.
 
 Setnt III, IV. 
 
 MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR. 
 
 S/w/. By my fidelity, this is not well, master, licly shamed: and, methinks. there would be no 
 ford ; this wrongs you. period to the jest, should he not be publicly 
 
 Ford , 
 
 Eta. 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 no where else, but in your brain. 
 
 Ford. Help to search my house this one time : 
 if I find not what I seek, show no colour for my 
 extremity, let me for ever be your table-sport : let 
 them say of me, As jealous as Ford, that search'd 
 " w walnut for his wife's leman. ' Satisfy me 
 
 pnce more search with me. 
 
 a hollo 
 once more , . 
 
 Mrs. Ford. What hoa, mistress Page ! come 
 you, and the old woman down ; my husband will 
 come into the chamber. 
 
 Ford. Old woman ! What old woman's that ? 
 
 Mrs. Ford. Why, it's my maid's aunt of Brent- 
 ford. 
 
 Ford. A witch, a quean, an old cozening quean ! 
 Have I not forbid her my house? She comes ol 
 errands, does she ? We are simple men; we do 
 not know what's brought to pass under the profes- 
 sion of fortune-telling. She works by charms, by 
 spells, by the figure, and such daubery as this is ; 
 
 beyond our element; we know nothing. Come 
 
 down, you witch, you hag you ; come down, I say. 
 
 Mrs. Ford. Nay, good sweet husband ; good 
 gentlemen, let him not strike the old woman. 
 
 Enter Falstaffin women's clotkes, led by Mrs. Page. 
 
 Mrs. Page. Come, mother Pratt, come, give me 
 your hand. 
 
 shamed. 
 
 Mrs. Page. Come, to the forge with it then, 
 ihape it: I would not have things cool. [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE I1I.J1 room in the Garter Inn. Enter 
 Host and Bardolph. 
 
 Bard. Sir, the Germans desire to have three of 
 your horses : the duke himself will b_- to-morrow at 
 court, and they are going to meet him. 
 
 Host. What duke should that be, comes so ge 
 cretly ? I hear not of him in the court : Let m 
 speak with the gentlemen ; they speak English ? 
 
 Bard. Ay, sir ; I'll call them to you. 
 
 Host. They shall have my horses ; but I'll make 
 them pay, I'll sauce them : they have had my hous? 
 a week at command ; I have turned away my other 
 quests : they must come on"; I'll sauce them : Come. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 SCEJVE IV. A room in Ford's House. Enter 
 Page. Ford, Mrs. Page, Mrs. Fprd, and Sir 
 
 Hugh Evans. 
 
 Eva. 'Tis one of the pest discretions of a 'oman 
 as ever I did look upon. 
 
 Page. And did he send you both these letter* 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. 
 
 Ul 11O.11U* 1 IU.111CI 1VIJ1 OUOJJl^Wl lilt 9UII >* IL" V-V/IVJj 
 
 Ford. I'll prat her: Out of my door, you Than thee with wantonness : now doth thy honoui 
 
 witch! [beats him.] you rag, you baggage, you 
 polecat, you ronyon!' 2 out ! out! I'll conjure you, 
 I'll fortune-tell you. [Exit Falstali. 
 
 Mrs. Page. Are you not ashamed / I think, you 
 have kill'd the poor woman. 
 
 Mrs. Ford. Nay, he will do it: 'Tis a goodly 
 credit for you. 
 Ford. Hang her, witch ! 
 
 Eva. 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. 
 
 Ford. Will you follow, gentlemen ? I beseech 
 you, follow ; see but the issue of my jealousy : if 1 
 cry out thus upon no trail, 3 never trust me when 1 
 open" again. 
 
 Page. Let's obey his humour a little further ; 
 
 Come, gentlemen. [Ex. Page, Ford, Shal. and Eva. 
 
 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'll 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 dc-vil 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 ths ligures out of your husband's brains. II 
 they can Una in their hearts, the poor unvirluous 
 fat knight shall be any further atilieted, we two v;ill 
 till be the ministers. 
 Mrs. Ford. I'll warrant, they'll have him pub- 
 
 W tover, (2) Scab. (3) Scent, 
 
 stand, 
 
 n him that was of late a heretic, 
 As firm as faith. 
 
 Page. 'Tis well, 'tis well ; no more, 
 
 3e not as extreme in submission, 
 As in offence ; 
 
 3ut let our plot go forward : let our wives 
 Vet once again, lo make us public sport, 
 Appoint a meeting with this old fat fellow, 
 Where we may taue him, and disgrace him for it 
 
 Ford. There is no better way than that the} 
 spoke of. 
 
 Page. How ! to send him word they'll meet him 
 n the park at midnight ! fie, fie ; he'll never come. 
 
 Era. 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, 
 ic shall have no desires. 
 
 Pagt. 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 Herne 
 
 the hunter, 
 
 Sometime a keeper here in Windsor forest, 
 Doth all the winter time, at still midniaht. 
 Walk round about an oak, with preat ragg'd horns j 
 And there he blasts the tree, and takes* the cattle ; 
 And makes mi!ch-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 idlc-hcaclcd eld* 
 Reeeiv'd, and did deliver lo our age, 
 This tale of Herne the hunter for a truth. 
 
 (4) Cry out. (5) Strike*. (6) OW age.
 
 MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR, 
 
 Page* Why, yet there want not many, that do fear 
 In deep of night to walk by this Herne'a oak : 
 But what of this? 
 
 Mrs. Ford. Marry, this is our device ; 
 
 That Falstaffatthat oak shall meet with us ; 
 Disguis'd like Herne, with huge horns on his head. 
 
 Page, Well, let it not be doubted but he'll come, 
 And in this shape : When you have brought him 
 
 thither, 
 What shall be done with him ? what is your plot ? 
 
 .Mrs. Page. That likewise have we thought up- 
 on, and thus : 
 
 Nan Page my daughter, and my little son, 
 And three or four more of their growth, we'll dress 
 Like urchins, ouphes, 1 and fairies, green and white, 
 With rounds of waxen tapers on their heads, 
 And rattles in their hands ; upon a sudden, 
 As FalstafF, she, and I, are newly met, 
 Let them from forth a 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 pads he dares to tread, 
 In shape profane. 
 
 Mrs. Ford. And till he tell the truth, 
 
 Let the supposed fairies pinch him sound, 3 
 And burn nun with their tapers. 
 
 Mrs. Page. The truth being known, 
 
 We'll all present ourselves ; dis-horn the spirit, 
 And mock him home to Windsor. 
 
 Ford. The children must 
 
 Be practised well to this, or they'll ne'er do't. 
 
 Eta. I will teach the children their behaviours ; 
 and I will be like a jack-an-napes also, to burn the 
 knight with my taber. 
 
 Ford. That will be excellent. I'll go buy them 
 vizards. 
 
 Mrs. Page. My Nan shall be the queen of all 
 
 the fairies, 
 Finely attired in a robe of white. 
 
 Pay e. That silk will I go buy ; and in that time 
 Shall master Slender steal my Nan away, [Aside. 
 
 And marry her at Eton. Go, send to Falstaff 
 
 straight. 
 
 Ford. Nay, I'll to him again in name of Brook : 
 He'll tell me all his purpose : sure he'll come. 
 
 Mrs. Page. Fear not you that : Go, get us pro- 
 perties,* 
 And tricking for our fairies. 
 
 Eva. 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'll to the doctor; he hath my good will, 
 And none but he, to marrv 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 Y Jl room in the Garter Inn. Enter 
 Host and Simple. 
 
 Host. What would'st thou have, boor? what, 
 
 (1) Elfs, hobgoblins. 
 (*)SmwUy 
 
 (2) Wild, discordant. 
 f$) Cannibal. 
 
 thick-skin ? speak, brezthcj discuss ; brief, short, 
 quick, snap. 
 
 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'll speak like an dnthropc- 
 pha^inian 1 ' unto thee : Knock, I say. 
 
 Sim. There's an old woman, a fat woman, gone 
 up into his chamber ; I'll be so bold as to stay, sir, 
 till she come down ; I come to speak with her, in- 
 deed. 
 
 Host. Ha ! a fat woman ! the knight may be rob- 
 bed: I'll call. Bully knight! Bully sir John! 
 speak from thy lunprs military : Art thou there ? it 
 is thine host, thine Ephcsian, calls. 
 
 Fal. [dbove.] How now, mine host ? 
 
 Host. Here's a Bohemian Tartar tarries the 
 coming down of thy fat woman : Let her descend, 
 bully, let her descend : my chambers are honoura- 
 ble : Fie ! privacy ? fie ! 
 
 Enter Falstaff. 
 
 Fd. 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 it, muscle-shell; What 
 would you with her ? 
 
 Sim. My master, sir, my master Slender, sent to 
 her, seeing her go through" the streets, to know, sir, 
 whether one Nym, sir, that beguiled him of a chain, 
 had the chain, or no, 
 
 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, 
 that beguiled master Slender of his chain, cozened 
 him of it. 
 
 Sim. 1 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. 
 
 Fal. Conceal them, or thou diest. 
 
 Sim. Why, sir, they were nothing but about 
 mistress Anne Page ; to know, if it were mv mas- 
 ter'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 so bold to say so, sir ? 
 
 Fal. Ay, sir Tike ; who more bold ? 
 
 Sim. I thank your worship : I shall make my 
 master glad with these tidings. [Exit Simple. 
 
 Host. Thou art clerkly/ thou art clerkly, sir 
 John : Was there a w ise woman with thee ? 
 
 Fal. Ay, that there was, mine host ; one that 
 lath 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 ! meer cozenage ! 
 Host. Where be my iior&es ? speak well of them, 
 varletto. 
 Lard. Run away with the cozeners ; for so ooo 
 
 f 6) Cunning woman, a fortuwtelter. 
 
 (7) Scholar-lilw,
 
 Scent VI. 
 
 MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR, 
 
 s I came beyond Eton, they threw me off, fromiSCA*E VL Another Room in tkt Garter Inn. 
 
 behind one ot them, in a slough of mire ; and set 
 spurs, and away, like three German devils, three 
 Doctor Faustuses. 
 Host. They are gone but to meet the duke, vil- 
 
 Enter Fenton and Host, 
 
 Host. Master Fenton, talk not to me ; my miod 
 is heavy, I will give orer all. 
 
 lain: do not sav, they be fled; Germans are honest; Pent. Yet hear me speak: Assist me in my 
 men. purpose, 
 
 And, as 1 am a gentleman, I'll give tliec 
 Enter Sir Hugh Evans. 
 
 Eva. Where is mine host ? 
 
 Host. What is the matter, sir ? 
 
 ra. Have a care of your entertainments: there 
 is a friend of mine come to town, tells me, there 
 is three cousin Germans, that has cozened all the 
 
 A hundred pounds in gold, more than your loss. 
 
 Host. I will hear you, master Fenton ; and I 
 will, at the least, keep your counsel. 
 
 Ft nt. From time to time I have acquainted YOU 
 With the dear love I bear to fair Anne Page ; 
 Who, mutually, hath answered my affection 
 
 iiiiv-v v-.^uj... vn.iiii.iiv-. mau iiao V.VX.EHEU an ui.|(J>o fo-f lorth as herself might be her chooser,) 
 hosts of Readings, of Maidenhead, of Colebrook,j*en to my wish : I have a letter from her 
 of horses and money. I tell you for a good- will. I Of such contents as you will wonder at ; 
 look you: you are" wise, and full of gibes and j The mirth whereof so larded with my matter, 
 vloutfng-stogs ; and 'tis not convenient you should j That neither, singly, can be manifested, 
 b cozened : Fare you well. [Exit. ' Without the show of both ; wherein fat Falstaff 
 
 Hath a great scene ; the image 01 the jest 
 
 [Shousin? the letter. 
 Hark, good mine host : 
 
 Enter Doctor Caius. 
 
 Cuius. V'ere is mine Host de Jarterre ? 
 Host. Here, master doctor, in perplexity, and 
 doubtful dilemma. 
 
 Cairn. I cannot tell vat is dat : but it is tell-a 
 tion for a duke de 
 
 I'll show you here at large. o 
 
 To-night" at Herne's oak, just 't'wixt 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 onlbot, 
 
 me, dat you make grand preparatic 
 
 Jttrmany: by my trot, dere is no duke, dat de | He7 fetlier hathcoinmanded 'her to 'slip 
 :ourt is know to come ; I tell you for good Till : j Away with Slender, and with him at Eton 
 
 [ArtU Immediately to marry : she hath consented : 
 Host. Hue and cry, villain, go: assist me, (Now, sir, 
 
 knight; I am undone: fly, run, hue and cry, vil- 
 lain ! 1 am undone ! [a-et()i Host and BarSolph. 
 
 Her mother, even strong against that match, 
 And firm for doctor Caius, hath appointed 
 
 Fat. I would, all the world might be cozened ; That he shall likewise shuffle her away, 
 for I have been cozen'd and beaten too. If it should j While other sports are tasking of their minds, 
 come to the ear of the court, how I have been And at the deanery, where a priest attends, 
 ransformed, and how my transtormation hath been j Straight marrv her : to this her mother's plot 
 
 their Cne wits, till I were as crest-fallen as a dried And in that habit, when Slender sees his time 
 pear. I never prospered since I forswore myself To take her by the hand, and bid her go, 
 at Pnmero. ' \\ ell, if my wind were but long She shall go with him .--her mother hath intended 
 enough to say my prayers, I would repent. | The better to denote her to the doctor, 
 
 j (For they must all be mask'd and vizarded,) 
 
 I That, quaint 3 in green, she shall be loose enrob'd, 
 
 Enter Mrs. Quickly. 
 
 Now ! whence come you? 
 
 luick. From the two parties, forsooth. 
 
 With ribbands pendant, flaring 'bout her head ; 
 
 Quiet. From the two parties, forsooth. ;* nd when the doctor spies his vantage ripe, 
 
 Fal. The devil take one partv, and his dam the 4, pinc ?A er Jj y ^ e hand ' and ' On that tok ? n ' 
 
 other, and so they shall be both bestowed ! I have! l maid hath given consent to go with him. 
 
 suffered more for their sakes, more, than the vil- 
 lanous inconstancy of man's disposition is able to 
 bear. 
 
 Quick. And have not they suffered ? Yes, I 
 warrant ; speciously one of them ; mistress Ford, 
 
 Host. Which means she to deceive ? father or 
 mother ? 
 
 Pent. Both, my good host, to go along with me : 
 And here it rests, that you'll procure the ricar 
 To stay for me at church, 'twixt twelve and one, 
 
 nuii 0.111. r o^_i<ju3ij uiit ui iiicm . uiiaucaa 1 uiu. 4 J * +1. i r i ' V . 
 
 good heart, is beaten black and blue, that vou can- nc V n itc "wW name of marrying, 
 not sec a white spot about her. j To r f 1T . e " r , hea , rU u um i ed "remony. 
 
 Fal. What tell'st thou me of black and blue? I llost ' V : e11 '. nusba nd your device ; I'll to the 
 was beaten mvself into all the colours of the rain- 1 n . 
 
 bow, and I was like to be apprehended for the. n r gy0 the k "\? l ?> you sha11 not Iack a P riest - 
 witch of Brentford; but that my admirable dex- R /J] 1 '- ^, ^' *"^"^J>!^ to ttee ; 
 
 terity of wit, my counterfeiting the action of an old 
 woman, delivef'd 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 
 ay somewhat. Good hearts, what ado here is to 
 bring you together ! Sure, one of you does not 
 erve heaven well, that you are so cro'ssed. 
 
 Fal. Come up into my chamber. [Exeunt. 
 
 (1) A game at card*, 
 
 Besides, 
 
 sent recompense. [Exeunt. 
 
 ACT V. 
 
 SC-E.VE I.>1 Room in th: Garter Inn. Enter 
 Falstaff and Mrs. Quickly. 
 
 Fal. Pry'thee, no more prattling ; go. I'll 
 
 (X) In tb letter, . ($} FaatasticiU/,
 
 hold: 1 This is the third time; I hope pood luck 
 lies in odd numbers. Away, go ; they say, there 
 is divinity in odd numbers, either in nativity, 
 chance, or death. Away. 
 
 QutcAr. I'll provide you a chain ; and I'll do 
 what I can to get you a pair of horns. 
 
 Fal. Away, 1 say; time wears; hold up your 
 nead, and mince. [Exit Mrs. Quickly. 
 
 Enter Ford. 
 
 How now, master Brook ? Master Brook, the mat- 
 ter will be known to-night, or never. Be you in 
 the Park about midnight, at llerne'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 
 phrensy. I will tell you. He beat me grievously, 
 in the shape of a woman ; for in the shape of man, 
 master Brook, I fear not Goliath with a weaver's 
 beam ; because I know also, life is a shuttle. I am 
 in haste ; go along with me ; I'll tell you all, mas- 
 ter Brook. Since I plucked geese, played truant, 
 and whipped top, I knew not what it "was to be 
 beaten, till lately. Follow me : I'll tell you strange 
 things of this knave Ford : on whom to-night I will 
 be revenged, and I will deliver his wife into your 
 hand. Follow : Strange things in hand, master 
 Brook! follow. [Exeunt. 
 
 SCEJfE //. Windsor Park. Enter Page, Shal- 
 low, and Slender. 
 
 Page. Come, come ; we'll couch i' the castle- 
 ditch, till we see the light of our fairies. Remem- 
 ber, son Slender, my daughter. 
 
 Slen. Ay, forsooth ; I have spoke with her, and 
 we have a" nay-word ; ! how to know one another. 
 J come to her in white, and cry, mum ; she cries. 
 budget ; and by that we know one another. 
 
 Shot. 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 
 Kim by his horns. Let's away ; fellow me. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 SCEJfE HI. The Street in Windsor. Enter 
 .Mrs. Page, J\Irs. Ford, and Dr. Caius. 
 
 Mrs. Page. Master doctor, my daughter is in 
 green: when you see your time, "take ner by the 
 hand, away with her to the deanery, and despatch 
 it quicklv : Go before into the park' ; we two must 
 go together. 
 
 Catui. I know vat I have to do ; Adinn. 
 
 Mrs. Page. Fare you well, sir. [Exit Caius.] 
 My husband will not rejoice so much at the abuse 
 of Falstaff, as he will chafe at the doctor's marry- 
 ing my daughter : but 'tis no matter ; better a lit- 
 tle chiding, than a srreat deal of heart-break. 
 
 Mrs. Ford. Where is Nan now, and her troop 
 of fairies 1 and the Welsh devil, Hugh? 
 
 Mrs. Page. They arc all couched in a pit hard 
 by Herne's oak, with obscured lights ; which, at 
 
 (1) Keep to the time. (?) Watch-word. 
 
 Act f. 
 
 the very instant of FalstafTs and our meeting, they 
 will at once display to the night. 
 
 Mr;. Ford. That cannot choose but amaze him. 
 
 Mrs. Page. If he be not amazed, he will b 
 mocked ; if he be amazed, he will every way b 
 mocked. 
 
 Mrs. Ford. We'll betray him finely. 
 
 Mrs. Page. Against such lewdste'rs, and their 
 
 lechery, 
 Those that betray them do no treacherv. 
 
 Mrs. Ford. The hour draws on : To the oak, 
 to the oak. [Lxtvnt. 
 
 SCA"JE IV. Windsor Park. Enttr Sir Hu?h 
 Evans, and Fairies. 
 
 Eva. Trib, trib, fairies; come; and remember 
 your parts: be pold, I pray you; follow m into 
 the pit ; and when I give the watch-'ords, do as I 
 pidyou: Come, come; trib, trib. [Exetmt. 
 
 SCE.VE V.^flnothtr part of the Park. Enter 
 Falstaff disguised, with a luck's head on. 
 
 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. powerful love"! 
 that, in .some respects, makes a beast a manj in 
 some, other, a man a beast. You were also, Jupiter, 
 a swan, for the love of Leda; 0, 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 ; st 
 foul fault. When gods have hot backs, what shall 
 poor men do ? For me, I am here a Windsor stag ; 
 and the fattest, I think, i' the forest : send me a 
 cool rut-time, Jove, or who can blame me to pis* 
 my tailow! Who comes here? my doe ? 
 
 Enter Mrs. Ford and Mrs. Page. 
 
 Mrs. Ford. Sir John ? art thou there, my deer ? 
 my male deer ? 
 
 'Fal. My doe, with the blark scut? Let the sky 
 rain potatoes, let it thunder to the tune of Green, 
 Sleeves, hail kissing comfits, and snow erin?oes ; 
 let there come a tempest of provocation, I will 
 shelter me here. [Embracing her. 
 
 Mrs. Ford. Mistress Page is come with me, 
 sweetheart. 
 
 Fal. Divide me like a bribe.buck, each a haunch : 
 I will keep my sides to myself, my shoulders for the 
 fellow* of this walk, and my horns I bequeath your 
 husbands. Am I a woodman ? ha ! Speak I like 
 Herne the hunter? Why, now is Cupid a child of 
 conscience; he makes restitution. As I am a tru* 
 spirit, welcome ! [Aowe within. 
 
 Mrs. Page. Alas ! what noise? 
 
 Mrs. Fora. Heaven forgive our sins! 
 
 Fal. What should this be ? 
 
 Mrl'. Pa^e. \ Away, away. [They nin off. 
 
 Fal. I think, the devil will not have me damned, 
 lest the oil that is in me should set hell on fire ; he 
 would never else cross me thus. 
 
 Enter Sir Hugh Evans, like a satyr ; Mrs. Quickly 
 and Pistol ; Anne Page, as the Fairy Queen, at 
 tended by htr brother and others, dressed likt 
 fairies, with waxen tapers on their heads. 
 
 Quick Fairies, black, grey, green, and white, 
 (S) Keeper of the (brut,
 
 MERRY WIVES OP WINDSOR. 
 
 You moon-shine revellers, and shades of night, 
 You orphan-heirs of fixed destiny, 
 
 Attend your office, and your quality. 1 
 
 Crier Hobgoblin, make the fairy o-ves. 
 
 Pist. Elves, list your names ; silence, you air)' 
 
 toys. 
 
 Cricket, to Windsor chimney* shall Ihou leap : 
 Where fires thou find'st unrak'd, and hearths un- 
 
 swept, 
 
 There pinch the maids as blue as bilberry : 
 Our radiant queen hates sluts, and sluttery. 
 
 Fal. They are fairies ; he, that speaks to them, 
 
 shall die. 
 
 I'll wink and couch : No man their works must eye. 
 [Lies damn upon his face. 
 
 Eva. Where's Pede ? Go you, and where you 
 
 find a maid, 
 
 That, ere she sleep, has thrice her prayers said, 
 Raise up the organs of her fantasy, 
 Sleep she as sound as careless infancy ; 
 But those as sleep, and think not on their sins, 
 Finch them, arms, legs, backs, shoulders, sides, 
 and shins. 
 
 Qm'cfc. About, about ; 
 
 Search Windsor castle, elves, within and out : 
 Strew good luck, ouphes, on every sacred room ; 
 That it may stand till the perpetual doom, 
 In state as'wholesome, as in state 'tis fit ; 
 Worthy the owner, and the owner it. 
 The several chairs of order look you scour 
 With juice of balm, and every precious flower: 
 Each lair instalment, coat, ana several crest, 
 With loyal blazon, evermore be blest ! 
 And nightly, meadow-fairies, look, you sing, 
 Like to the Garter's compass, in a ring: 
 The espressure that it bears, green let it be, 
 More fertile-fresh than all the field to see ; 
 And, Hony soil qui mal y pense, write, 
 In emerald tufts, flowers purple, blue, and white ; 
 Like sapphire, pearl, and rich embroidery, ) 
 
 Buckled below t'air knighthood's bending knee : > 
 Fairies use flowers for their character}'. 3 ) 
 
 Away ; disperse : But, till 'tis one o'clock, 
 Our dance of custom, round about the oak 
 Of Herne the hunter, let us not forget. 
 
 Eva, Pray you, lock hand in hand ; yourselves 
 
 in order set : 
 
 And twenty glow-worms shall our lanterns be, 
 To guide o'ur measure round about the tree. 
 But, stay ; I srnell a man of middle earth. 
 
 Fal. Heavens defend me from that Welch fairy, 
 lest he transform me to a piece of cheese ! 
 
 Pist. Vile worm, thou wast o'er-look'd even in 
 thv birth. 
 
 Qic'cfc. With trial-fire touch me his finger end : 
 If he be chaste, the flame will back descend, 
 And turn him to no pain ; but if he start, 
 It is the flesh of a corrupted heart. 
 
 Pist. A trial, come. 
 
 Eva. Come, will this wood take fire ? 
 
 [They burn him with their tapers. 
 
 Fal. Oh, oh, oh! " . 
 
 Q,uiefr. Corrupt, corrupt, and tainted in desire ! 
 About him, fairies ; sing a scornful rhyme : 
 Ajid, as you trip, still pinch him to your time. 
 
 ?. It is right ; indeed he is full of lecheries and 
 iniquity. 
 
 SONG. 
 
 it on sinful fantasy ! 
 Fie on lust and luxury ! 
 
 (1) Fellowship. 
 (S) The letters. 
 
 (2) Whortleberry. 
 
 Lust is but ^ 
 
 Kindled with unchaste desire, 
 Fed in heart; whose flames aspirt, 
 3s thoughts do blow them, higher and higher. ' 
 Pinch htm, faines, mutually ; 
 Pinch him for his villany ; 
 Pinch him, and burn him. and turn him about 
 Till candles, and star-light, and moonshine, bt out. 
 
 During this song, the fairies pinch FalstafT. Doe- 
 tor Caius comes one way, and steals away a fairy 
 in green; Slender another way, and takes off a 
 fairy in white ; and Fenton comes, and steals 
 away Mrs. Anne Page. Jl noise of hunting is 
 matfe within. .ill the fairies run away. Falstaff 
 pulls off his buck's heed, and rises. 
 
 Enter Page, Ford, Mrs. Page, and Mrs. Ford. 
 
 They lay hold on him. 
 
 Page. Nay, do not fly: I think, we have watch'd 
 
 you now ; 
 Will none but Herne the hunter serve your turn ? 
 
 Jtr$. Page. I pray you, come ; hold up the jest 
 
 no higher ; 
 
 Now, good sir John, how like you Windsor wives ? 
 See you these, husband ? do not these fair yokes* 
 Become the forest better than the town ? 
 
 Ford. Now, sir, who's a cuckold now ? Master 
 Brook, FalstarPs a knave, a cuckoldly knave ; here 
 are his horns, master Brook : And, master Brook, 
 he hath enjoyed nothing of Ford's but his buck- 
 bn.skt-t, his cudgel, and twenty pounds of money ; 
 which must be paid to master Brook ; his horse* 
 are arrested for it, master Brook. 
 
 Airs. Ford. Sir John, we have had ill luck ; we 
 could never meet. I will never take you for my 
 love agnin. but I will always count you my deer. ' 
 
 Fal. I do begin to perceive that I am "made an. 
 ass. 
 
 Ford. Ay, and an ox too ; both the proofs are 
 extnnt. 
 
 Fal. And those are not fairies ? I was three or 
 four times in the thought, they were not fairies : 
 and yet the guiltiness of my mind, the sudden sur- 
 prise of my powers, drove the grossness of the fop- 
 pery into a received belief, in despite of the teeth 
 of all rhyme and reason, that they were fairies. 
 See now, how wit may be made a Jack-a-lcnt, 
 when 'tis upon ill employment! . 
 
 Eva. Sir John FalstafF, serve Got, and leare 
 your desires, and fairies will not pinse you. 
 
 Ford. Well said, fairy Hugh. 
 
 Era. And leave you your jealousies too, I pray 
 you. 
 
 Ford. I will never mistrust mv wife again, till 
 thou art able to woo her in good English. 
 
 Fal. Have I laid my brain in the sun, and dried 
 it, that it wants matter to prevent so gross o'er- 
 rearhin? as this ? Am I ridden with a Welch goat 
 too.' Shall I have a coxcomb of frize? 4 'tis time 
 I were choiked with a piece of toasted cheese. 
 
 Eva. Seese is not good to give putter ; your 
 pelly is all putter. 
 
 Fal. Seese and putter ! Have I lived to stand at. 
 the taunt of one that makes fritters of English ? 
 This is enough to be the decay of lust and late- 
 walking, through the realm. 
 
 .A/r?. Page. Why, sir John, do you think, though 
 we would have thrust virtue out of our hearts by 
 
 (4\ Horns which Falstaff had. 
 
 (6) A fool's cap of Welch materials.
 
 70 
 
 MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR. 
 
 Jet T, 
 
 the head and shoulders, and have given ourselves 
 without scruple to hell, that ever the devil could 
 have made you our delight ? 
 
 Ford. What, a hodge-pudding ? a bag of flax ? 
 
 Mrs. Page. A puffed man ? 
 
 Page. Old, cold, withered, and of intolerable 
 entrails. 
 
 Ford. And one that is as slanderous as Satan ? 
 
 Page. And as poor as Job ? 
 
 Ford. And as wicked as his wife ? 
 
 Eva. And given to fornications, and to taverns, 
 and sack, and wine, and nu'theglins, and to drink- 
 ings, and swearings, and starings, pribbles and 
 prabbles ? 
 
 Fal. Well, I am your theme : you have the start 
 of me ; I am dejected ; I am not able to answer 
 the Welch flannel ; ignorance itself is a plummet 
 o'er me : use me as you will. 
 
 Ford. Marry, sir, we'll bring you to Windsor, 
 to one master Brook, that you have cozened ol 
 money, to whom you should have been a pander : 
 over and above that vou have suffered, I think, to 
 repay that money will be a biting affliction. 
 
 Jars. Ford. PS ay, husband, let that go to make 
 
 amends : 
 Forgive that sum, and so we'll all be friends. 
 
 Ford. Well, here's my hand; all's forgiven at 
 last. 
 
 Page. Yet be cheerful, knight : thou shalt eat a 
 posset to-night at my house; where I will desire 
 thee to laugh at my wife, that now laughs at thee : 
 Tell her.master Slender nath married her daughter. 
 
 .Mrs. Page. Doctors doubt that: If Anne Page 
 be my daughter, she is, by this, doctor Caius' wife. 
 
 [Aside. 
 
 Enter Slender. 
 
 Slen. Whoo, ho ! ho ! father Page ! 
 
 Page. Son ! how now ? how now, son ? have you 
 despatched ? 
 
 Slen. Despatched I'll make the best in Gloces- 
 ten;hire know on't ; would I were hanged, la, else. 
 
 Page. Of what, son ? 
 
 Slen. I came yonder at Eton to marry mistress 
 Anne Page, and she's a great lubberly boy : If it 
 had not been i f the church, I would have swinged 
 him, or he should have swinged me. If I did not 
 think it had been Anne Page, would I might never 
 stir, and 'tis a post-master's boy. 
 
 Page. Upon my life then, you took the wrong. 
 
 Slen. What need you tell me that ? I think so, 
 when I took a boy for a girl : If I had been mar- 
 ried to him, for all he was in woman's apparel, I 
 would not have had him. 
 
 Page. Why, this is your own folly. Did not I 
 tell you, how you should know my daughter by her 
 garments ? 
 
 Slen. I went to her in white, and cry'd mum, 
 and she ery'd budget, as Anne and I had appointed ; 
 and yet it was not Anne, but a post-master's boy. 
 
 Eva. Jeshu ! Master Slender, cannot you see 
 but marry poys ? 
 
 Page. 0, I am vexed at heart: What shall I do ? 
 
 Vra. Page. Good George, be not angry : I 
 knew of your purpose ; turned my daughter into 
 green ; and, indeed, she is now with the doctor at 
 the deanery, and there married. 
 
 Enter Caius. 
 
 Caius. Vere U mistress Page? By gar, I am 
 (1) Confound her by your questions. (2) Avoid. 
 
 cozened ; I ha' married un gar eon, a boy : wn poi- 
 son, by gar, a boy ; it is not Anne Page : by gar, I 
 am cozened. 
 
 Mrs. Page. Why, did you take her in green ? 
 
 Caius. Ay, be gar, and 'tis a boy : be gar, I'll 
 raise all Windsor. [Exit Caius. 
 
 Ford. This is strange : Who hath got the right 
 Anne ? 
 
 Page. My heart misgives me : Here comes mas- 
 ter Fenton. 
 
 Enter Fenton and Anne Page. 
 
 How now. master Fenton ? 
 
 .innd. Pardon, good lather! good my mother 
 pardon ! 
 
 Page. Now, mistress ? how chance you went 
 not with master Slender ? 
 
 Mrs. Page. Why went you not with master doc- 
 tor, maid ? 
 
 Pent. Vou do amaze 1 her : Hear the truth of it 
 You would have married her most shamefully, 
 Where there was no proportion held in love. 
 The truth is, she and I, long since contracted, 
 Are now so sure that nothing can dissolve us. 
 The offence is holy, that she hath committed : 
 And this deceit loses the name of craft, 
 Of disobedience, or unduteous tide ; 
 Since therein she doth evitate- and shun 
 A thousand irreligious cursed hours, 
 Which forced marriage would have brought upon 
 her. 
 
 Ford. Stand not amaz'd : here is no remedy : 
 In love, the heavens themselves do guide the state ; 
 Money buys lands, and wives are sold by fate. 
 
 Fal. I am glad, though you have ta'en a special 
 stand to strike at me, that vour arrow hath glanced. 
 
 Page. Well, what remedy? Fenton, heaven give 
 
 thee joy ! 
 What cannot be eschew'd, must be embrac'd. 
 
 Fal. When night-dogs run, all sorts of deer are 
 chas'd. 
 
 Eva. I will dance and eat plumbs at your wed- 
 ding. , 
 
 Mrs. Page. Well, I will muse no further : 
 
 Master Fenton, 
 
 Heaven give you many, many merry days ' 
 Good husband, let us every one go home, 
 And laugh this sport o'er by a country fire ; 
 Sir John and all. 
 
 Ford. Let it be so : Sir John, 
 
 To master Brook you yet shall hold your word ; 
 For he, to-night, shall lie with Mrs. Ford. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 Of this play there is a tradition preserved by Mr. 
 Howe, that it was written at the command of 
 Queen Elizabeth, who was so delighted with the 
 character of Falstaff, that she wished it to be dif- 
 fused through more plays ; but suspecting that it 
 might pall by continued^ uniformity, directed the 
 soet to diversify his manner, by showing him in 
 love. No task is harder than that of writing to the 
 ideas of another. Shakspeare knew what the queen , 
 if the story be true, seems not to have known, that 
 
 of his former cast would have remained. Falstatf 
 could not love, but by ceasing to be Falstaff. Ho
 
 MERRY WITES OF WINDSOR. 71 
 
 eould only counterfeit love, and his professions 'of forming ridiculous characters can confer praise 
 could be prompted, not by the hope of pleasure, ; only on him who originally discovered it, for it re- 
 but of money. Thus the poet approached as near quires not much of either wit or judgment ; its 
 as he could to the work enjoined him ; yet havin^'success must be derived almost wholly from the 
 perhaps in the former plays completed his own player, but its power in a skilful mouth, even he 
 idea, seems not to have been able to give Falstaff"ithat despises it, is unable to resist, 
 all his former power of entertainment. The conduct of this drama is deficient ; the ac- 
 
 This comedy is remarkable for the variety tindjtion begins and ends often, before the conclusion, 
 number of the personages, who exhibit more cha-jand the different parts might change places witn- 
 racters appropriated and discriminated, than per- out inconvenience j but its general power, that 
 haps can be found in any other play. 
 
 Whether Shakspeare was the first that produced 
 upon the English stace the effect of language dis- 
 torted and depraved by provincial or foreign pro- 
 
 power by which all works of genius shall linallv 
 be tried, is such, that perhaps it never yet had 
 reader or spectator who did not think it too sooo 
 at the end. 
 
 nunciation, I cannot certainly decide. This model JOHNSON
 
 PERSONS REPRESENTED. 
 
 Orsino, dukt of Illyria. 
 
 Sebastian, a young gentleman, brother to Viola, 
 Antonio, a sea-captain, friend to Sebastian. 
 A sea-ca plain, -friend to Viola. 
 
 Cud" 1 "' 6 ' \Sfntlemen, attending on the duke. 
 Sir Toby Belch, uncle of Olivia. 
 Sir Andrew Ague-cheek. 
 Malvolio, steward to Olivia. 
 
 Olivia, a rich countess. 
 Viola, in love with the duke. 
 Maria, Olivia's woman. 
 
 Lords, priests, sailors, officers, musicians, and othti 
 attendants. 
 
 Scene, a city in Illyria ; and the sea-coast near it. 
 
 ACT I. 
 
 SCENE I.JJn apartmtnt in the Duke's palace. 
 Enter Duke, Curio, Lords ; musicians attending. 
 
 Duke. 
 
 IF music be the food oflove, play on, 
 Give me excess of it ; that, surfeiting, 
 
 The appetite may sicken, and so die. 
 
 That strain again ; it had a dying fall : 
 
 O, it came o'er my ear like the sweet south, 
 
 That breathes upon a bank of violets, 
 
 Stealing, and giving odour. Enough ; nc more ; 
 
 'Tis not so sweet now, as it was before. 
 
 O spirit oflove, how quick and fresh art thou ! 
 
 That notwithstanding thy capacity 
 
 Receiveth as the sea, nought enters there, 
 
 Of what validity 1 and pitch soever, 
 
 But falls into abatement and low price, 
 
 Even in a minute ! so full of shapes is fancy, 
 
 That it alone is high-fantastical. '* 
 
 Cur. Will you go hunt, my lord ? 
 
 Duke. What, Curio? 
 
 Cur. The hart. 
 
 Duke. Why, so I do, the noblest that I have : 
 O. when mine eyes did see Olivia first 
 Methoughl, she purg'd the air of pestilence ; 
 That instant was I turn'd into a hart; 
 And my desires, like fell and cruel hounds, 
 E'er since pursue me. How now? what news 
 from her ? 
 
 Enter Valentine. 
 
 Vol. So please my lord, 1 might not be admitted, 
 But from her handmaid do return this answer : 
 The clement itself, till seven years heat,' 
 Shall not behold her face at ample view ; 
 But. like a cloistress, she will veiled walk, 
 Ana water once a day her chamber round, 
 With eye-offending brine : all this, to season 
 A brother's dead love, which she would keep fresh, 
 And lasting, in her sad remembrance. 
 
 Duke . O, she that hath a heart of that fine frame, 
 To pay this debt oflove but to a brother, 
 How will she lave, when the rich golden shaft 
 
 (I) Value. (2) Fantastical to the height. 
 
 Hath kill'd the flock of all affections else 
 That live in her ! when liver, brain, and heart, 
 These sovereign thrones, arc all supplied, and fill'd, 
 (Her sweet perfections,) with one self king! 
 Away before me to sweet beds of flowers ; 
 Love-thoughts he rich, when canopied with bower* 
 
 [Exeunt 
 
 SCENE II. The sea-coast. Enter Viola, Cap 
 tain, and Sailors. 
 
 Via. What country, friends, is this ? 
 
 Cap. Illyria, lady. 
 
 Vio. And what should I do in Illyria t 
 My brother he is in Elysium. 
 Perchance, he is not drown'd: What think you, 
 sailors ? 
 
 Cap. It is perchance, that you yourself were 
 saved. 
 
 Vio. my poor brother! and so, perchance, 
 may he be. 
 
 Cap. True, madam : and, to comfort you with 
 
 chance, 
 
 Assure yourself, after our ship did split, 
 When you, and that poor number saved with you, 
 Hung on our driving boat, I saw your brother, 
 Most provident in peril, bind himself 
 (Courage and hope both teaching him the prac- 
 tice) 
 
 To a strong mast, that lived upon the sea ; 
 Where, like Arion on the dolphin's back, 
 I saw him hold acquaintance with the waves, 
 So long as I could see. 
 
 Vio. For saying so, there's gold : 
 
 Mine own escape unfoldeth to my hope, 
 Whereto thy speech serves for authority, 
 The like of him. Know'st thou this country ? 
 
 Cap. Ay, madam, well ; for I was bred and 
 
 born, 
 Not three hours' travel from this very place. 
 
 Vio. Who governs here ? 
 
 Cap. A noble duke, in nature, 
 
 As in his name. 
 
 Vio. What is his name ? 
 
 Cap. Orsino. 
 
 Vio. Orsino ! I have heard my father name him : 
 He was a bachelor then. 
 
 (3) Heated.
 
 Bent 12 
 
 TWELFTH NIGHT ; OR, WHAT YOU WILL. 
 
 Cap. And so is now 
 
 Or was so tery late ; for but a month 
 Ago I went from hence ; and then 'twas fresh 
 In murmur (as, you know, what great ones do, 
 The less will prattle of,) that he did seek 
 The lore of fair Olivia. 
 
 Via. What's she ? 
 
 Cap. A virtuous maid, the daughter of a count 
 That died some twelvemonth since ; then leaving 
 
 her 
 
 In the protection of his son, her brother, 
 Who shortly also died : for whose dear love, 
 They say, she hath abjur'd the company 
 And sight of men. 
 
 Via. O, that I served that lady ; 
 
 And might not be delivered to the world, 
 Till I had made mine own occasion mellow, 
 What my estate is. 
 
 Cap. That were hard to compass ; 
 
 Because she will admit no kind of suit, 
 No. not the duke's. 
 
 ric. There is a fair behaviour in thee, captain ; 
 And though that nature with a beauteous wall 
 Doth oft close in pollution, yet of thee 
 I will believe, thou hast a mind that suits 
 With this thy fair and outward character. 
 I pray thee, and I'll pay thee bounteously, 
 Conceal me what I am ; and be my aid 
 For such disguise as, haply, shall become 
 The form of my intent. I'll serve this duke ; 
 Thou shall present me as a eunuch to him, 
 It may be worth thy pains ; for I can sing, 
 And speak to him in many sorts of music, 
 Thai will allow 1 me very worth his service. 
 What else may hap, to tune I will commit ; 
 Only shape thou thy silence to my wit. 
 
 Cap. Be you his eunuch, and your mute I'll be : 
 When my tongue blabs, then let mine eyes not sec ! 
 
 Via. I thank thee : lead me on. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 Mar. He hath, indeed, almost natural : for, be- 
 sides that he's a fool, he's a great quarreller ; and, 
 but that he hath the gift of a coward to allay the 
 rust he hath in quarrellin?, 'tis thought among 
 the prudent, he would quickly have the gift of a 
 grave. 
 
 Sir To. By this hand, they are scoundrels, and 
 substractors, that say so of him. Who are they ? 
 
 Mar. They that add moreover, he's drunk night* 
 ly in your company. 
 
 " Sir To. With drinking healths to my niece ; I'll 
 drink to her, as long as there is a passage in my 
 throat, and drink in fllyria: he's a coward and a 
 coystril, 3 that will not drink to my niece, till his 
 brains turn o' the toe, like a parish-top. What, 
 wench ? Castiliano vulgo ; for here comes sir An- 
 drew Ague-face. 
 
 Enter Sir Andrew Ague-cheek. 
 
 Sir And. Sir Toby Belch ! how now, sir Toby 
 Belch? 
 
 Sir To. Sweet sir Andrew ? 
 
 Sir .in d. Bless you, fair shrew. 
 
 JV/ar. And you too, sir. 
 
 Sir To. Accost, sir Andrew, accost. 
 
 Sir And. What's that? 
 
 Sir To. My niece's chamber-maid. 
 
 Sir And. Good mistress Accost, I desire better 
 acquaintance. 
 
 Mar. My name is Mar}', sir. 
 
 Sir And. Good mistress Mary Accost, 
 
 Sir To. You mistake, knight : accost, is, front 
 her, board her, woo her, assail her. 
 
 Sir And. By my troth, I would not undertake 
 her in this company. Is that the meaning of accost? 
 
 Mar. Fare you well, gentlemen. 
 
 Sir To. An thoa let part so, sir Andrew, 'would 
 thou misht'st never draw sword a^ain. 
 
 Strand. An you part so, mistress. I would I 
 
 SCENE ///. A room in Olivia's house. Enter might never draw sword again. Fair lady, do you 
 Sir Toby Belch and Maria. 
 
 Sir To. What a plague means my niece, to take 
 the death of her brother thus ? I am sure, care's 
 an enemv to life. 
 
 think you have fools in hand ? 
 
 Mar. Sir, I have not you bv the hand. 
 
 Sir And. Marry, but you shall have ; and here's 
 my hand. 
 
 Mar. Now, sir, thought is free ; I pray vou, bring 
 
 i jj_*i i At ___.. I Jl_*:i"j'_i- 
 
 .Mar. By troth, sir Toby, you must come injyour hand to the buttery-bar, and let it drink 
 
 t-lipr n' nicrht vnnr nnnin mv InH v tnL-p<i orpn t Kir .ftn/l \VViArf fnrf ivrpthpflrt ? xvKnt'a 
 
 earlier o' nights ; your cousin, my lady, takes great 
 exceptions to your ill hours. 
 
 Sir To. Why, let her except before excepted. 
 Mar. AT, but you must confine yourself within 
 the modest limits of order. 
 
 Sir To. Confine ? I'll confine myself no finer than 
 I am : these clothes are good enough to drink in, 
 and so be these boots too ; an they be not, let them 
 hanz themselves in their own stiaps. 
 
 Mar. That quaffing and drinking will undo you : 
 I heard my lady talk of it yesterday; and of a 
 foolish knight, that you brought in one night here, 
 to be her wooer. 
 
 Sir To. Who ? Sir Andrew Ague-cheek ? 
 
 .Afar. Ay. he. 
 
 Sir To. He's as tall* a man as anv's in Illyria. 
 
 Mar. What's that to the purpose 1 
 
 Sir To. Why, he has three thousand ducats a 
 year. 
 
 Mar. Ay, but he'll have but a year in all these 
 ducats ; he's a very fool, and a prodigal. 
 
 Sir To. Fie, that you'll say so ! he plays o' the 
 viol-de-gambo, and speaks three or four languages 
 word for word without book, and hath all the good 
 gifts of nature. 
 
 Sir And. Wherefore, sweetheart ? what's your 
 metaphor ? 
 
 .Var. It's dry, sir. 
 
 Sir And. Why, I think so ; I am not such an ass. 
 but I can keep my hand dry. But what's your jest ' 
 
 Mar. A dry jest, sir. 
 
 Sir And. Are you full of them ? 
 
 JVTor. Ay, sir ; I have them at my fingers' ends : 
 marry, now I let go your hand, I am barren. 
 
 [Exit Maria. 
 
 Sir To. O knisht, thou lack'st a cup of canary 
 -.vhen did I see thee so put down ? 
 
 Sir And. Never in your l.fe, I think ; unless you 
 see canary put me down : methinks, sometimes I 
 have no more wit than a Christian, or an ordinary 
 man has : but I am a great eater of beef, and, 1 
 believe, that does harm to my wit. 
 
 To. No question. 
 
 Sir And. An I thought that, I'd forswear it 
 ride home to-morrow, sir Toby. 
 
 I'll 
 
 (1) Approve. 
 
 (2) Stout. 
 
 Sir To. Paurquoy, my dear knight ? 
 
 Sir And. What U pourqitoy? do or not do? I 
 would I had bestowed that time in the toneues, 
 that I have in fencing, dancinp, and bear-baiting : 
 0, had 1 but followed the arts ! 
 
 (3) Kcystril, a bastard bawk. 
 
 K
 
 TWELFTH NIGHT ; OR, WHAT YOU WILL. 
 
 AtlL 
 
 Sir To. Then hadst thou had an excellent head 
 of hair. 
 
 Sir And . Why, would that have mended my hair ? 
 
 Sir To. Past question ; for thou seest, it will not 
 curl by nature. 
 
 Sir'Jlnd. But it becomes me well enough, does't 
 not? 
 
 Sir To. Excellent ; it hangs like flax on a dis- 
 taff; and I hope to see a housewife take tliee be- 
 tween her legs, and spin it off. 
 
 Sir And. 'Faith, I'll home to-morrow, sir Toby: 
 your niece will not be seen : or, if she be, it's four 
 to one she'll none of me : the count himself, here 
 hard bv, woos her. 
 
 .Sir To. She'll none o' the count : she'll not match 
 above her degree, neither in estate, 
 I have heara her swear it. Tut 
 man. 
 
 Sir And. I'll stay a month longer. I am a fel- 
 low o' tiic strangest inind i' the world ; I delight in 
 masques and revels sometimes altogether. 
 
 Sir To. 
 knisrht? 
 
 Art thou good at these kick-shaws, 
 
 Sir And. As any man in IHyrh, whatsoever he 
 be, under the decree of my betters ; and yet, I will 
 not compare with an old mar- 
 Sir To. What is thy excellence ia a galliard, 
 knight? 
 
 Sir And. 'Faith, I can cut a caper. 
 
 Sir To. And I can cut the mutton tot. 
 
 Sir Jlnd. And, I think, I have the back-trick, 
 simply as strong as any man in Illyria. 
 
 Sir To. Wherefore are these things hid? where- 
 fore have these gifts a curtain before them? are 
 they like to take dust, like mistress Mall's picture ? 
 Why dost thou not go to church in a galliard, 
 and come home in a coranto? My very walk 
 should be a jig ; I would not so much as make 
 water, but in a sink-a-pace. ' What dost thou 
 mean ? is it a world to hide virtues in ? I did Ihink, 
 by the excellent constitution of thy leg, it was 
 formed under the star of a galliard. 
 
 Sir And. Ay, 'tis strong, and it does indifferent 
 well in a flame-coloured stock. 2 Shall we set about 
 some revels ? 
 
 Sir To. What shall we do else ? were we not 
 born under Taurus ? 
 
 Sir And. Taurus ? that's sides and heart. 
 
 Sir To. No, sir; it is legs and thighs. Let me 
 see thee caper : ha ! higher : ha, ha ! excellent ! 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 S CEJfE IV A room in the Duke's palace. En- 
 ter Valentine, and Viola in man's attire. 
 
 Vol. If the duke continue these favours towards 
 you, Cesario, you are like to be much advanced ; 
 He hath known you but three days, and already 
 you are no stranger. 
 
 Via. You either fear his humour, or my negli- 
 gence, that you call in question the continuance of 
 his love : is he inconstant, sir, in his favours ? 
 
 Vol. No, believe me. 
 
 Enter Duke, Curio, and attendants. 
 
 Vio. I thank you. Here comes the count. 
 Diike. Who saw Cesario, ho ? 
 Vio. On your attendance, my lord ; here. 
 Duke. Stand you awhile aloof. Cesario, 
 Thou know'st no less but all ; I have unclasp'd 
 
 (1) Cinque-pace, the name of a dance. 
 
 (2) Stocking. (3) Go thy way. 
 (4) full of impediment?. 
 
 To thee the book even of my secret soul : 
 Therefore, good youth, address thy gait 1 unto b*r; 
 Be not denv'd access, stand at her doors, 
 And tell them, there thy fixed foot shall grow, 
 Till thou have audience. 
 
 Vio. Sure, my noble lord, 
 
 If she be so abandon'd to her sorrow 
 As it is spoke, she never will admit me. 
 
 Duke. Be clamorous, and leap all civil bounds, 
 Rather than make unprofited return. 
 
 Vio. Say, I do speak with her, my lord ; what 
 then? 
 
 Duke. O, then unfold the passion of my love, 
 Surprise her with discourse of my dear faith : 
 It shall become thee well to act rny woes ; 
 outh, 
 aspect. 
 
 2, vears, nor wit ; j She will attend it better in thy youth, 
 , there's life in't, Than in a nuncio of more grave aspe'c 
 Vio. I think not so, my Ford. 
 
 Duke. 
 
 Dear lad, believe it , 
 
 For they shall yet belie thy happy years 
 
 That say, thou art a man : Diana's lip 
 
 Is not more smooth and rubious ; thy small pipe 
 
 Is as the maiden's organ, shrill and sound, 
 
 And all is semblative a woman's part. 
 
 I know, thy constellation is right apt 
 
 For this affair: Some four, or five, attend him , 
 
 AH, if you will ; for I myself am best, 
 
 When least in company Prosper well in this, 
 
 And thou shall live as freely as thy lord, 
 
 To call his fortunes thine. 
 
 Vio. I'll do my best, 
 
 To woo your lady : yet [Aside.] a barful* strife ! 
 Whoe'er I woo, myself would be his wife. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE V.A room in Olivia's house. Enter 
 Maria and Clown. 
 
 j\Tar. Nay, either tell me where thou hast been, 
 or I will not open my lips so wide as a bristle may 
 enter,' in %vay of thy excuse : my lady will hang 
 thee for thy absence. 
 
 Clo. Let her hang me : he, that is well hanged 
 in this world, needs to fear no colours. 
 
 Mar. Make that good. 
 
 Clo. He shall see none to fear. 
 
 Jtiar. A good lenten* answer: I can tell thee 
 where that saying was born, of, I fear no colours. 
 
 Clo. Where, ggod mistress Mary ? 
 
 JV/ar. In the wars ; and that may you be bold to 
 say in your foolery. 
 
 Clo. Well, God give them wisdom, that have it ; 
 and those that are fools, let them use their talents. 
 
 JUar. Yet you will be hanged, for being so long 
 absent : or, to be turned away, is nt that as goco 
 as a hanging to you ? 
 
 Clo. Many a good hanging prevents a bad mar- 
 riage ; and, for turning away, let summer bear it 
 out. 
 
 Mar. You are resolute then ? 
 
 Clo. Not so neither ; but I am resolved on two 
 points.' 
 
 A T ar. That, if one break, the other will hold ; or, 
 if both break, your gaskins fall. 
 
 Clo. Apt, in good faith ; very apt ! Well, go thy 
 way j if sir Toby would leave 'drinking, thou wert 
 as witty a piece of Eve's flesh as any in Illyria. 
 
 Jtfar. Peace, you rogue, no more o' that ; here 
 comes my lady : make your excuse wisely, ^'ou 
 were best. [ixi/. 
 
 (5) Short and spare. 
 
 (6) Points were hooks which fastened the hose 
 lor breeches.
 
 Seen* V. TWELFTH NIGHT 5 OR, WHAT YOU WILL. 75 
 
 Enter Olivia and Malvolio. Ke-mttr Maria. 
 
 Ck. Wit, an'tbethy will, put me into good fool- *Vr. Madam, there is at the gate a young gen- 
 
 I'ounsrman, 
 
 JliUJ IJUOia 1V1 * ? to\> lllhlll v*. FT * ww j- ~7*"" "* 1"~ I ~ ~-_ , . ' 
 
 lus? Better a witty fool, than a Ibolish wit. God and well attended. ,,.,.. ... , 
 bless thee lady ! 0/i. ^ ho ot my people hold him in delay 7 
 
 OK. Take the fool awav. .Var. Sir Toby, madam, your kinsman. 
 
 do. Do you not hear, fellows? take away the Oh. Fetch him off, I pray you ; he speaks no- 
 ] a( j v ! thing but madman : lie on him ! [Exit Maria. 1 Go 
 
 Oli. Go to, you arc a dry fool ; I'll no more of you, Malvolio : if it be a suit from the count, I am 
 you : besides Vou grow dishonest. sick, or not at home ; what you will, to dismiss it 
 
 Clo. Two fauiU, madonna,' that drink and good [* MalvoLo.] N ow you see, sir, how your foyU 
 counsel will amend : for give the dry fool drink, lOOKfOVfa old, and people dislike it. 
 then is the fool not drv ; bid the dishonest mend Clo. 1 hs.u Hast spoke tor us, madonna, as if thy 
 himself: if he mend, He is no longer dishonest; if eldest son should beafoo! : whose skull Jove cram 
 he cannot, let the botcher mend him : any thing, with brains, lor here he comes, one of thy kin, has 
 that's mended, is but patched : virtue, that trans- a most weakpia mater. 1 
 
 Enter Sir Toby Belch. 
 
 OIL By mine honour, half drunk. What is he 
 at the gate, cousin ? 
 
 grasses, is but patched with sin ; and sin, that 
 amends, is but patched with virtue: if that this 
 simple syllogism will serve, so ; if it will not, what 
 remedy / As there is no true cuckold but calamity, 
 "so beauty's a flower : the lady bade take away the 
 fool ; therefore, I say again, take her away. 
 
 OH. Sir, I bade them take away vou. 
 
 Clo. Misprision in the highest decree! Lady, 
 Cucullus non facit monachum ; that's as much as 
 to say, I wear not motley in my brain. Good ma- 
 donna, give me leave to prove you a fool. 
 
 Oli. Can you do it? 
 
 Clo. Dexterously, good madonna. 
 
 Oli. Make your proof. 
 
 Clo. I must catechise you for it, madonna ; good 
 my mouse of virtue, answer me. 
 
 OK. Well, sir, for want of other idleness, I'll 
 'bide your proof. 
 
 Clo. Good madonna, why mourn'stthou? 
 
 OH. Good fool, for my brother's death. 
 
 Clo. I think, his soul is in hell, madonna. 
 
 0/i. I know his soul is in heaven, fool. 
 
 Clo. The more fool you, madonna, to mourn for 
 your brother's soul being in heaven. Take away 
 the fool, gentlemen. 
 
 0/t. What think you of this fool, Malvolio? doth 
 he not mend ? 
 
 Mai. Yes ; and shall do, till the pangs of death 
 shake him: infirmity, that decays the wise, (loin 
 ever make the better fool. 
 
 Clo. God send you, sir, a speedy infirmity, for 
 the better increasing your folly ! Sir Toby will be 
 sworn, that I am no fox ; but he will not pass his 
 word for two-pence that you are no fool. 
 
 0/t. How say you to that, Malvolio ? 
 
 Mai. I marvel your ladyship takes delight in 
 such a barren ras'cal : I saw him put down the 
 other day with an ordinary fool, that has no more 
 brain than a stone. Look" you now, he's out of his 
 puard already : unless you laugh and minister oc- 
 casion to him, he is gagged. I protest, I take these 
 wise men, that crow~so at these set kind of fools, 
 no better than the fools' zanies.* 
 
 O/i. O, you are sick of self-love, Malvolio, and 
 taste with a distempered appetite. To be generous, 
 guiltless, and of free disposition, is to take those 
 things for bird-bolts, 5 that you deem cannon-bul- 
 lets : there is no slander in an allowed fool, though 
 he do nothing but rail ; nor no railing in a known 
 discreet man, though he do nothing but reprove. 
 
 Clo. Now Mercury endue thee with leasing/ 
 for thou speakest well of fools ! 
 
 (1 ) Italian, mistress, dame. (2) Fools' baubles. 
 (3) Short arrows, (4) Lying. 
 
 Sir To. A gentleman. 
 
 Oli. A gentleman ? What gentleman ? 
 
 Sir To. 'Tis a gentleman here A plague o' 
 these pickle-herrings ! How now, sot? 
 
 Clo. Good sir Toby, 
 
 Oli. Cousin, cousin, how have you come so early 
 by this lethargy ? 
 
 Sir To. Lechery ! I defy lechery : there's one at 
 the gate. , 
 
 Oli. Ay, marry ; what is he ? 
 
 Sir To. Let him be the devil, an he will, I care 
 not : give me faith, say I. Well, it's all one. 
 
 [Exit. 
 
 Oli. What's a drunken man like, fool ? 
 
 Clo. Like a drown'd man, a fool, and a mad- 
 man : one draught above heat makes him a fool ; 
 tiie second mads^ him ; and a third drowns him. 
 
 0/t. Go thou and seek the coroner, and let him 
 sit o' my coz ; for he's in the third degree of drink, 
 he's drown'd : go, look after him. 
 
 Clo. He is but mad yet, madonna ; and the fool 
 
 shall look to the madman. 
 
 [Exit Clown. 
 
 Re-enter Malvolio. 
 
 Ma!. Madam, vond vpung fellow swears he will 
 speak with you. t told him you were sick ; he takes 
 on him to understand so much, and therefore comes 
 to speak with you : I told him you were asleep ; he 
 seerns to have a fore-knowledge of that too, and 
 therefore comes to speak with you. What is to be 
 >akl to him. lady ? he's fortified against any denial. 
 
 O.'t. Tell him, he shall not speak with me. 
 
 Mai. He has been told so: and he says, he'll 
 stand at y our door like a sheriff's post, and be the 
 supporter of a bench, but he'll speak with you. 
 
 GIL What kind of man is he .' 
 
 Mai. Whv, or man kind. 
 
 OIL What manner of man ? 
 
 Mai. Of very ill manner : he'll speak with you, 
 will you, or no. > 
 
 Oli. Of what personage, and years, is he ? 
 
 Mai. Not vet old enough for a man, nor young 
 enough for a Spy ; as a squash is before 'tis a peas- 
 cod, or_ a codling when 'tis almost an apple : 'ti 
 with him e'en standing water, between boy am. 
 man. He is very well-favoured, and he speaks 
 very shrewishly; one would think, his mcther's 
 mils were scarce out of him. 
 
 (5) The cover of the brain. 
 
 tis 
 and
 
 TWELPTH-NIUHT ; OR, WHAT YOU WILL. 
 
 OK. Let him approach : call in my gentlewoman. 
 Mai. Gentlewoman, my lady calls. [Exit. 
 
 Rc*eHter Maria. 
 
 OIL Give me my veil : come, throw it o'er my 
 
 face; 
 We'll once more hear Orsino's embassy 
 
 Enter Viola. 
 
 Vio. The honourable lady of the house, which 
 is she ? 
 
 Oli. Speak to me, I shall answer for her. Your 
 will ? 
 
 Fio. Most radiant, exquisite, and unmatchable 
 beauty, I pray you, tell me, if this be the ladv of 
 the house, for t never saw her : I would be loath to 
 cast awav my speech ; for, besides that it is excel- 
 lently well penn'd, I have taken great pains to con 
 it. Good beauties, let me sustain no scorn ; I am 
 Terv comptible, 1 even to the least sinister usage. 
 
 OK. Whence came you, sir ? 
 
 Vio. I can say little more than I have studied, 
 and that question's out of my part. Good gentle 
 one, give me modest assurance, if you be the lady 
 of the house, that I may proceed in my speech. 
 
 OIL Are you a comedian ? 
 
 Via. No, my profound heart: and yet, by the 
 very fans* of malice, I swear, I am not that I play 
 Are you the lady of the hou.ve ? 
 
 OIL If I do not usurp myself, I am. 
 
 Vio. Most certain, if you are she, you do usurp 
 yourself; for what is yours to bestow, is not yours 
 to reserve. But this is from my commission: I will 
 on with my speech in your praise, and then show 
 you the heart of my message. 
 
 OIL Come to what is important in' t : I forgive 
 you the praise. 
 
 Fio. Alas, I took great pains to study it, and 
 tis poetical. 
 
 Oii. It is the more like to be feigned ; I pray you 
 keep it in. I heard, you were saucy at my prates : 
 and allowed your approach, rather to wonder at 
 you than to hear you. If you be not mad, be 
 gone ; if you have reason, be brief: 'tis not that 
 time of moon with me, to make one in so skipping 
 a dialogue. 
 
 .Var. Will you hoist sail, sir ? here lies your way. 
 
 Vio. No, good swabber: I am to hull here' a 
 little longer. Some mollification for your giant, 2 
 sweet lady. 
 
 0/i. Tell me your mind. 
 
 Via. I am a messenger. 
 
 0/i. Sure, you have some hideous matter to de- 
 liver, when the courtesy of it is so fearful. Speak 
 your office. 
 
 Vio. It alone concerns your ear. I bring no 
 overture of war, no taxation of homage ; I hold 
 the olive in my hand : my words are as full of peace 
 as matter. 
 
 OIL Yet you began rudely. What are you ? 
 what would you ? 
 
 Fio. The rudeness that hath appear'd in me, 
 have I learn'd from my entertainment. What I am, 
 and what I would, are as secret as maidenhead : to 
 your ears, divinity ; to any other's, profanation. 
 
 OIL Give us the place alone : we will hear this 
 divinity. [Exit Maria. ] Now ; sir, what is your text ? 
 
 Fio. Most sweet lady, 
 
 (H Accountable. 
 
 (2) It appears from several parts of this play, 
 that the original actress of Maria was very short. 
 
 0/i. A comfortable doctrine, and much may be 
 said of it. Where lies your text ? 
 
 Fio. In Orsino's bosom. 
 
 0/i. I n his bosom? In what chapter of his bosom T 
 
 Fio. To answer by the method, in the first ol 
 his heart. 
 
 0/i. O, I have read it ; it is heresy. Have you 
 no more to say ? 
 
 Fio. Good madam, let me see your face. 
 
 0/i. Have you any commission from your lord to 
 negociate with my face ? you are now out of your 
 text: but we will draw the curtain, and show you 
 the picture. Look you, sir, such a one as I wa* 
 this present: 3 is't not well done? [Unveiling. 
 
 Vio. Excellently done, if God did all. 
 
 0/i. 'Tis in grain, sir ; 'twill endure wind and 
 weather. 
 
 Fio. 'Tis beauty truly blent, 4 whose red and 
 
 white 
 
 Nature's own sweet and cunning hand laid on : 
 Lady, you are the cruell'st she alive, 
 If you will lead these graces to the grave, 
 And leave the world no copy. 
 
 OH. 0, sir, I will not be so hard-hearted ; I will 
 give out divers schedules of my beauty : it shall be 
 inventoried; and every particle, and utensil, la- 
 belled to my will : as, item, two lips indifferent red ; 
 item, two.grey eyes, with lids to them ; item, one 
 neck, one chin, and so forth. Were you sent 
 hither to 'praise me ? 
 
 Vio. I see you what you are : you are too proud : 
 But, if you were the devii, you'are fair. 
 My lord" and master loves you ; O, such love 
 Could but be recompens'd, though you were 
 
 crown'd 
 The nonpareil of beauty ! 
 
 0/i. How does he love me 7 
 
 Fio. With adorations, with fertile tears, 
 With groans that thunder love, with sighs of fire. 
 
 0/i. Your lord does know my mind, I cannot 
 
 love him : 
 
 Yet I suppose him virtuous, know him noble, 
 Of great estate, of fresh and stainless youth ; 
 In voices well divulg'd," free, learn'd, a'nd valiant, 
 Arid, in dimension, and the shape of nature, 
 A gracious person : but yet I cannot love him ; 
 He might have took his answer long ago. 
 
 Fio. If I did love you in my master's flame, 
 With such a suffering, such a deadly life, 
 In your denial I would find no sense, 
 I would not understand it. 
 
 0/i. Why, what would you 
 
 Fio. Make me a willow cabin at your gate, 
 And call upon my soul within the house ; 
 Write loynl cantons' of contemned love, 
 And sing them loud even in the dead of night , 
 Holla your name to the reverberate" hills, 
 And make the babbling gossip of the air 
 Cry out, Olivia ! O, you should not rest 
 Between the elements of air and earth, 
 But you should pity me. 
 
 0/i. You might do much : What is your parent* 
 age? 
 
 Fio. Above my fortunes, yet my state is well : 
 I am a gentleman. 
 
 0/i. Get you to vour lord ; 
 
 [ cannot love him : let him send no more ; 
 Unless, perchance, you come to me again, 
 To tell me how he takes it. Fare you well : 
 
 (3) Presents. (4) Blended, mixed together 
 
 (5} Well spoken of by the world. 
 
 (6) Cantos, verses. (7) Echoing.
 
 Sttnt /, //, ///. 
 
 TWELFTH-NIGHT ; OR, WHAT YOU WILL. 
 
 I thank you for your pains : spend this for me. 
 
 Vio. I am no fee'd post" lady ; keep your purse ; 
 My master, not myself, jacks "recompense. 
 Lore make his heart of flint, that you shall lore ; 
 A-d let your fervour, like mv master's, be 
 Plac'd in contempt ! Farewell, fair cruelty. [Exit. 
 
 OIL What is your parentage ? 
 Above my fortunes, yet my state is veil : 
 
 / am a gentleman. I'll be sworn thou art ; 
 
 Thy tongue, thy face, thy limbs, actions, and spirit, 
 Do give thee five-fold blazon: 4 Not too fast: 
 
 soft ! soft ! 
 
 Unless the master were the man. How now? 
 Even so quickly may one catch the plague ? 
 Methinks, I feel this youth's perfections, 
 With an invisible ana subtle stealth, 
 To creep in at mine eyes. Well, let it be. 
 What, ho, Malvolio ! 
 
 Re-enter Malrolio. 
 
 Mai. Here, madam, at your service. 
 
 Oil. Run after that same peevish messenger, 
 The county's 3 man : he left this ring behind him, 
 W r ould I, or not : tell him, I'll none of it. 
 Desire him not to flatter with his lord, 
 Nor hold him up with hopes ; I am not for him : 
 If that the youth will come this way to-morrow, 
 I'll give him reasons for't. Hie thee, Malvolio. 
 
 .Wo/. Madam, I will. 
 
 [Exil. 
 
 CMt. I do I know not what : and fear to find 
 Mine eye too great a flatterer for my mind. 
 Fate, show thy force : ourselves we do not owe ;* 
 What is decreed, must be ; and be this so ! [Exit. 
 
 ACT II. 
 
 SCENE I. The s?a-coast. Enter Antonio and 
 Stbastian. 
 
 Jlnt. Will you stay no longer ? nor will you not, 
 that I go with you ? 
 
 Stb. By your patience, no : my stars shine dark- 
 ly over me : the malignancy of my fate might, 
 perhaps, distemper yours ; therefore I shall crave 
 
 not but call fair: she is drowned already, tir, With 
 salt water, though I seem to drown hir remem 
 brance again with more. 
 
 Jlnt. Pardon me, sir, your bad entertainment. 
 
 Seb. O, good Antonio, forgive me your trouble. 
 
 Jlnt, If you will not murder me for my lore, Id 
 me be ycur servant, 
 
 Seb. If vou will not undo what you have done, 
 that is, kill him whom you hare recovered, desire 
 it not. Fare re well at once : my bosom is full of 
 kindness ; and I am yet so near the manners of my 
 mother, that upon the least occasion more, mine 
 eyes will tell tales of me. I am bound to the 
 count Orsino's court : farewell. [Exit. 
 
 Jlnt. The gentleness of all the gods go with thee ' 
 I hare many enemies in Orsino's court, 
 Else would" I very shortly see thee there : 
 But, come what may. I do adore thee so, 
 That danger shall seem sport, and I will go.[Exlt. 
 
 SCENE H.-J1 street. Enter Viola; Malrolie 
 
 following. 
 
 J\Ia!. Were not you even now with the countess 
 Olivia ? 
 
 Vio, Even now, sir ; on a moderate pace I hare 
 since arrived but hither. 
 
 Mai. She returns this ring to you, sir ; you might 
 have saved me my pains, to Hare taken it away 
 yourself. She adds moreover, that you should put 
 your lord into a desperate assurance she will none 
 of him : and one thing more ; that you be never 
 so hardy to come again in his afl'airs, unless it be to 
 report your lord's taking of this. Receive it so. 
 
 Vio. She took the ring of me ; I'll none of it. 
 
 Mai. Come, sir, you peevishly threw it to her ; 
 and her wiil is, it should be so returned : if it be 
 worth stoopin? for, there it lies in your eye; if not, 
 be it his that finds it. [Exil. 
 
 Vio. I left no ring with her : what means this lady ? 
 Fortune forbid, my outside have not charm'd her ! 
 She made good view of me ; indeed, so much, 
 That, sure, methought, her eyes had lost her 
 
 tongue, 
 For she did speak in 5larts distractedly. 
 
 oves me, 
 
 the cunning of her passion 
 
 , 
 
 of you your leave, that I mav bear mv evils alone : j Inv ' tes me ln , th churlish messenger. 
 it were a bad recompense for rour love, to lay any ^ ono f m J' iord 's f ln j? ! why, he sent her none. 
 of them on you. I a the man \ jf li bt; so ( as tls . ) 
 
 Jlnt. Let me yet know of you, whither you are 
 bound. 
 
 Seb. No, 'sooth, sir ; mr determinate voyage i? 
 mere extravagancy. But I perceive in you so ex- 
 cellent a touch of modesty, that you will not extort 
 from me what I am willing to keep in ; therefore 
 it charges me in manners the rather to express* 
 myself. You must know of me then, Antonio, my 
 name is Sebastian, which I called Rodrigo; my 
 father was that Sebastian of Me^saline, whom I 
 know, you have heard of: he left behind him, 
 
 Poor lady, she were better love a dream. 
 Disguise^ I see, thou art a wickedness, 
 Wherein the pregnant 6 enemy does much. 
 How easy is it, for the proper-false' 
 In women's waxen hearts to set their forms ' 
 Alas ! our frailty is the cause, not we ; 
 For, such as we are made of, such we be. 
 How will this fadge ? s My master loves her dearly , 
 And I, poor monster, fond as much on him ; 
 And she, mistaken, seems to dote on me : 
 What will become of this ! As I am man, 
 My state is desperate for mr master's lore ; 
 I am woman, now alas the dav ! 
 
 myself, and a sister, both born in an hour. If the 
 
 he'avens had been pleased, 'would we had sc 
 
 ended! but you, sir, altered (hat; for, some hour] u nat thriftless sighs shall poor Olivia breathe ? 
 
 before vou took me from the breach of the sea, wasi l lnie ' thou must untangle this, not I ; 
 
 my sister drowned. It is too hard a knot for me to untie. [Extt. 
 
 my 
 
 Jlnt. Alas, the daj ! 
 
 Seb. A lady, sir, though it was said she mnrh 
 resembled me, was yet of many accoun'ed beauti- 
 ful : but, thoutjh I could not, with such estimable 
 wonder, overfar believe that, yet thus far I will 
 boldly publish her, she bore a mind that envy could 
 
 }n Messenger. (2) Proclamation ofcrntililv. 
 3) Count. (4) Own, possess. (6) Reveal, 
 
 SCENE III. Jl room in Olivia's house. Enter 
 Sir Toby Belch, and Sir Andrew Ague-checJc. 
 
 Sir To. Approach, sir Andrew : not to be a-bcd 
 after midnight, is to be up betimes ; and diluculo 
 
 (6) Dexterous, ready fiend. 
 
 (7) Fair deceiver. (8) SuJU
 
 TWELFTH NIGHT ; OR, WHAT YOU WILL, 
 
 Jet 11. 
 
 Sir And. Nay, by my troth, I know not : bat I 
 know, to be up late, is to be up late. 
 
 Sir And. Most certain: let our citch be, Then 
 knave. 
 
 Sir To. A false conclusion'; I hate it as an un- Clo. Hold thy peace, thou knave, knight ? I shall 
 filled can: to be up atter midnight, and to go to be constrain'd m't to call thee knave, knight, 
 bed then, is early ; so that, to go to bed after mid- f*-aJ TS. nnt tV,P f,rtt,m I ham r.nnstr 
 night, is to go to bed betimes'. Do not our lives 
 consist of the four elements ? 
 
 Sir And. 'Faith, so they say ; but, I think, it 
 rather consists of eating and drinking. 
 
 Sir To. Thou art a scholar ; let us therefore eat 
 and drink. Maria, I say ! a stoop of wine i 
 
 Enter Clown. 
 
 Sir And. 'Tis not the first time I have constrain'd 
 one to call me knave. Begin, fool; it begins, 
 Hold thy peace. 
 
 Clo. I shall never begin, if I hold my peace. 
 
 Sir And. Good, i'iaiui ! Come, begin. 
 
 [They sing ft catch. 
 
 Entsr Maria. 
 
 Mar. What a catterwauling do you keep here ! 
 If my lady have not called up her steward, Malvo- 
 
 Sir And. Here comes the fool, P faith. 
 
 Cio. How now, my hearts ? Did you never see'lio, and bid him turn you out of doors, never trust 
 he picture of we three ? ' me. 
 
 .Sir To. Welcome, ass. Now let's have a catch. | Sir To. My lady's a Catalan/ we are politicians ; 
 
 Sir And. By my troth, the fool has an excellentjMalvolio'sa i'cg-a-Ramsey,' and Tliret merry men 
 breast. 2 I had rather than forty shillings I had such [tee be. Am not i consanguineous ? am I not of her 
 a leg; and so sweet a breath to sing, as the fpo! | blood ? Tilly-valley lady ! There dw tit a man in 
 has. In sooth, thou wast in very gracious fooling; j Babylon, lady, lady ! [Singing. 
 
 last night, when thou spokest of Piirroirrcmitiis, oil Cio. Besiirew me, the knight's in admirable 
 the Vapians passing the equinoctial of Qur.ubus ;, fooling, 
 'twas very good, i'faith. I seat thee sixpence lor I Sir And. 
 
 thy leman .- 1 hadst it ? 
 
 Clo. I did impeticos thy erratSllity ;* for Malvo- 
 lio's nose is no whipstock : my ladv has a white 
 hand, and the myrmidons are no bottle-ale houses. 
 
 Sir And. Excellent! Why, this is the best fool- 
 ing, when all's done. Now, a song. 
 
 Sir To. Come on ; there is sixpence for you : 
 let's have a song. 
 
 Sir And. There's a testril of me too : if one 
 kni'-rht 
 
 iiUJii. gii; <i uu i time >uu uu \vit, IUUUUCIB, nor uunoiy. uui 
 
 Clo. Would you have a love-song, cr a song of to gabble like linkers at this time of night? Do 
 
 good life ? 
 .Sir To. A love-song, a love-song. 
 Sir And. Ay, ay ; I care not for good life. 
 
 SONG. 
 
 Clo. mistress mine, where are you roaming ? 
 0, stay and hear ; your true love's coming, 
 
 'That can sing both high and low : 
 Trip no further, 'pretty sweeting; 
 Journeys end in lovers' meeting. 
 
 Every wise man's son doth knew. 
 Sir And. Excellent good, i'faith. 
 Sir To. Good, good. 
 Clo. What is love? 'tis not hereafter; 
 
 Present mirth hath present umgmtcr ; 
 
 What's to come, is still unsure : \ 
 In delay there lies no plenty; 
 Then come kiss me sweel-and-twenty, 
 Youth's a stuff will not endure. 
 
 Sir And. A mellifluous voice, as I am a true 
 knight. 
 
 Str To. A contagious breath. 
 
 .Sir And. Very sweet and contagious, i'faith. 
 
 Sir To. To hear by the nose, it is dulcet in con- 
 tagion. But shall we make the welkin dance* in- 
 deed? Shall we rouse the nipht-owl in a catch, 
 that will draw three souls out of one weaver/ shall 
 we do that ? 
 
 Sir And. An you love me, let's do't: I am dog 
 at a catch. 
 
 Clo. Bv'r lady, sir, and some dogs will catch 
 well. 
 
 Locrgerheads be. (2) Voice. (3) Mistress. 
 I did impetticoat thy gratuity. 
 
 5 Drink till the sky turns round. 
 
 6 Romancer. (7) Name of an old song. 
 
 Ay, he does well enough, if he be dis- 
 posed, and so do I too ; he does it with a better 
 grace, but I do it more natural. 
 Sir To. 0, the twelfth day of December, 
 
 [Singing. 
 Mar. For the love of God, peace. 
 
 Enter Malvolio. 
 
 Mai. My masters, are you mad ? or what are 
 you ? Have you no wit, manners, nor honesty but 
 
 ye make an ale-house of my lady's house, that ye 
 squeak out your coziers" catches without any miti- 
 gation or remorse of voice ? Is there no respect of 
 place, persons, nor time, in you ? 
 
 Sir To. We did keep time, sir, in our catches. 
 Sneck up! 10 
 
 Mai. Sir Toby. I must be round with you. My 
 lady bade me tell you, that, though she harbours 
 you as her kinsman, she's nothing allied to your 
 disorders. If you can separate yourself and your 
 misdemeanours, you are welcome to the house ; if 
 not, an it would please you to take leave of her, 
 she is very willing to bid you farewell. 
 
 Sir To. Farewell, dear'heart, since I must netdt 
 be gone. 
 
 Mar. Nay, good sir Toby. 
 
 Clo. His eyts do show his days are almost done, 
 
 Mai. Is't even so ? 
 
 Sir To. But I will never die. 
 
 Clo. Sir Toby, there you lie. 
 
 Mai. This is much credit to you. 
 
 Sir To. Shall I bid him go ? [Singing. 
 
 Clo. What an if you do1 
 
 Sir To. Shall I bid him go, and spare not ? 
 
 Clo. O no, no, no, no, you dare not. 
 
 Sir To. Out o' time ? sir, ye lie. Art anv more 
 than a steward ? Dost thou think, because thou art 
 virtuous, there shall be no more cakes and ale? 
 
 Clo. Yes, by Saint Anne ; and ginger shall be 
 hot i' the mouth too. 
 
 Sir To. Thou'rt i' the right. Go, sir, rub your 
 chain" with crums : a stoop of wine, Maria ! 
 
 Mai. Mistress Mary, if you prized my lady's fa- 
 vour at any thing more than contempt, you would 
 
 (8) Equivalent to filly folly, shilly shally. 
 
 (9) Cobblers. (10) Hang yourself. 
 (11) Stewards anciently wore a chain.
 
 Scent 1Y. 
 
 TWELFTH NIGHT; OR, WHAT YOU WILL. 
 
 not give means for this uncivil rule; 1 she shall 
 
 know of it, by this hand. [Exit. 
 
 .Var. Go shake your ears. 
 
 Sir And. 'Twere as good a deed as to drink 
 when a man's a hungry, to challenge him to the 
 field ; and then to break promise with him, and 
 make a fool of him. 
 
 Sir To. Do't, knight; I'll write thee a chal- 
 lenge ; or I'll deliver thy indignation to him by 
 word of mouth. 
 
 JlTar. Sweet sir Toby, be patient for to-night ; 
 since the youth of the count's was to-day with my 
 
 lady, she is much out of quiet. For monsieur Mai- . r , .- , , , .--. . 
 
 volib, let me alone with him : if I do not gull him|(M "M and antique song we heard last night; 
 into a nay-word,* and make him a common recrea- } ct Jl o ^ ght ?A^ r _ elle * e my fi^ 10 ." much ; 
 tion, do not think I have wit enough to lie straight 
 in mv bed : I know I can do it. 
 
 Sir To. Send for money, knight ; if them hast 
 her not i' the end, call me Cut.' 
 
 Sir And. If I do not, never trust me, take it how 
 yon will. 
 
 Sir To. Come, come ; I'll go burn some sack, 
 'tis too late to go to bed now : come, knight come, 
 knight. [Exeunt. 
 
 SCE.VE IV. A room {n tht Duke's palace. En- 
 ter Duke, Viola, Curio, and others. 
 
 Duke. Give me some music : Now, good mor- 
 
 rov.-. friends : 
 Now, good Cesario, but that piece of song, 
 
 Sir To. Possess us, 3 possess us ; tell us some- 
 thing of him. 
 
 J\fu>: Marry, sir, sometimes he is a kind of Pu- 
 ritan... 
 
 Sir And. 0, if I thought that, I'd beat him like 
 a dog. 
 
 Sir To. What, for being a Puritan ? thy exqui- 
 site reason, dear knight ? 
 
 Sir And. I have ho exquisite reason for't, but I 
 have reason good enough. 
 
 Mar. The devil a Puritan that he i 
 constantly but. a time-pleaser ; an affectipned 
 that cons state without book, and utt 
 sivarths: 5 the best persuaded of himself, so" cram- 
 med, as he thinks, with excellencies, that it is his 
 ground of faith, that all that look on him, love him ; 
 and on that vice in him will my revenge find nota- 
 ble cause to work. 
 
 .Sir To. \Yhat wilt thou do ? 
 
 Var. I will drop in his way some obscure epis- 
 tles of love; wherein, by the colour of his beard, the 
 shape of his leg, the manner of his gaitj the expres- 
 sure of his eye, forehead, and complexion, he shall 
 find himself most feelingly personated : I can write 
 very like my ladv, your niece ; on a forgotten mat- 
 ter we ran hardly make distinction of our hands. 
 
 Sir To. Excellent ! I smell a device. 
 
 Sir And . I hav't in my nose too. 
 
 Sir To. He shall think, by the letters that thou 
 wilt drop, that they come from mv niece, and that 
 
 More than light airs and recoflecttd terms, 
 Of these most brisk and giddy-paced times : 
 Come, but one verse. 
 
 Cur. He is not here, so please your lordship, 
 thul should sing it. 
 
 Duke. Who was it ? 
 
 Cur. Feste, the jester, my lord a fool, that th 
 lady Olivia's father took much delight in: he ii 
 about the house. 
 
 Duke. Seek him out, and plav the tune the while. 
 {Exit Curio. Music. 
 Come hither, bov ; If ever thou shall love. 
 
 she is in love with him. 
 
 Mar. My purpose is, indeed, a horse of that 
 
 colour. 
 
 Sir And. And your horse now would make hiu 
 an ass. 
 
 .Var. Ass, I doubt not. 
 
 Sir And. O, 'twill be admirable. 
 
 .Var. Sport royal, I warrant you : I know, mi 
 physic will work with him. I w'ill plant you two 
 and let the fool make a third, where he shall fm< 
 the letter ; observe his construction of it. For thi 
 night, to bed, and dream on the event. Farewell) 
 
 [Exit. 
 
 Sir To. Good night, Penthesilea.* 
 
 Sir And. Before me, she's a good wench. 
 
 Sir To. She's a beagle, true-bred, and one that 
 adores me ; What o' that ? 
 
 Sir And. I was adored once too. 
 
 Sir To. Let's to bed, knight. Thou hadst need 
 end fur more money. 
 
 Sir And. If I cannot recover your niece, I am a 
 foul way out 
 
 H) Method of life. (2) By-word. (S) Inform tu. 
 
 (4) Affected. 
 
 (i) Th row of graii left by a mower, 
 
 Save, in the constant image of the creature 
 That is belov'd. How dost thou like this tune 7 
 
 Vio. It gives a very echo to the seat 
 Where love is thron'd. 
 
 Duke. Thou dost speak masterly : 
 My life upon't, young though thou art, thine eye 
 Hathstay'd upon some favour 8 that it loves ; , 
 Hath it not, boy ? 
 
 Vio. A little, by your favour. 
 
 Duke. What kind of woman "is't ? 
 
 Vio. Of your complexion. 
 
 Duke. She is not worth thee then. What years, 
 i'faith ? 
 
 Vio. About your years, my lord. 
 
 Duke. Too old, by heaven ; Let still the womar 
 
 take 
 
 An elder than herself; so wears she to him, 
 So sways she level in her husband's heart ; 
 For, boy, however we do praise ourselves, 
 Our fancies are more .giddy and unfirm, 
 More longing, wavering, sooner lost and worn, 
 Than women's are. 
 
 Vio. I think it well, my lord. 
 
 " Diike. Then let thy love be younger than thvself, 
 Or thy affection cannot hold the bent : 
 For women are as roses ; whose fair flower, 
 Being once displayed, doth fall that very hour. 
 
 Vio. And so they are: alas, that they are so ; 
 To die, even when they to perfection grow I 
 
 Re-enter Curio, and Clown. 
 Duke. O fellow, come, the song we had last 
 
 night : 
 
 Mark it, Cesario : it is old and plain : 
 The spinsters and the knitters in the sur 
 And the free maids, that weave their tliread with 
 
 bones,* 
 
 Do use to chaunt it ; it is silly sooth, ' 
 And dallies with the innocence of love, 
 Like the old age." 
 
 (6) Amazon. (7) Horse. (S) Countenance. 
 (9) Lace makers. (10) Simple truth, 
 Ml) Times of simplicity.
 
 80 
 
 TWELFTH-NIUHT ; OR, WHAT YOU WILL. 
 
 C*. Are yu ready, sir? 
 
 Duke- Ay ; pr'ylhee, sing. [Music, 
 
 SONG. 
 
 Clo. Come away, come away, dealh, 
 Jtnd in sad cypress Itt me be laid ; 
 
 Fly away, fly away, breath; 
 1 am slain ly a fair cruel maid. 
 My sliroud ofwliite, stuck all with yew, 
 
 My part of death no one so true 
 
 Did share it. 
 
 Not a flower, not aflowtr sweet, 
 On my black coffin let there be strown; 
 
 Not a friend, not a friend greet 
 My poor corpse, where my oones shall be 
 
 thrown ; 
 Ji thousand thousand, stehs to save, 
 
 Lay me, 0, w~hcrc 
 Sad true lover n'er find my grave, 
 To weep there. 
 
 Duke. There's for thy pains. 
 
 Clo. No pains, sir : I take pleasure in singing, sir. 
 
 Duke. I'll pay thy pleasure then. 
 
 Clo. Trulv, sir, and pleasure will be paid, one 
 time or another. 
 
 Duke. Give me now leave to leave thee. 
 
 Clo. Now, the melancholy god protect thee ; 
 and the tailor make thy doublet of changeable taf- 
 feta, for thy mind is a very opal ' I would have 
 men of such constancy put to sea, that their busi- 
 ness might be every thin?, and their intent ever)' 
 where ; for that's it, that always makes a good 
 Tovage of nothing. Farewell. [Exit Clown. 
 
 Duke. Lid all the rest give place. 
 
 [Exeunt Curio and attendants. 
 Once more, Cesario, 
 Get thee to yon' same sovereign cruelty : 
 Tell her, my love, more noble than the world, 
 Prizes not quantity of dirty lands ; 
 The parts that fortune hath bestow'd upon her, 
 Tell her, I hold as giddily as fortune ; 
 But 'tis that miracle, and queen of gem"?, 
 That nature prank?* her in, attracts my soul. 
 
 Via, But, if she cannot love you, sir? 
 
 Duke. I cannot be so answer'd. 
 
 Duke. 
 
 And what's her history T 
 
 ic.l Via. A blank, my lord : She never told her love, 
 But let concealment, like a worm i 1 the bud, 
 Feed on her damask cheek : she pin'd in thought ; 
 And, with a green and yellow melancholy, 
 j She siit like patience on a monument, 
 Smiling at grief. Was not this love, indeed 1 
 | We men may say more, swear more: but, indeed, 
 ]Our shows are more than will ; for still we prov 
 Much in our vows, but little in our love. 
 Duke. But died thy sister of her love, my boy ? 
 Via. I am all the daughters of my father's houte, 
 And all the brothers too ; and yet I know net: 
 Sir, shall I to this lady 1 
 
 Duke. Ay, that's th them*.* 
 
 To her in haste ; give her this jewel ; say, 
 My love can give no place, bide no denay. 1 
 
 [Exevnt. 
 
 SCENE V. Olivia's Garden. Enter Sir Tobj 
 Belch, Sir Andrew Ague-cheek, and Fabian. 
 
 Sir To. Come thy wars, signior Fabian. 
 
 Fab. Nay, I'll come ; if I lose a scruple of this 
 sport, let me be boiled to death with melancholy. 
 
 Sir To. Would'st thou not be glad to have the 
 niggardly rascally sheep-biter come by some nota- 
 ble shame 1 
 
 Fab. I would exult, man : you know, he brought 
 me out of favour with my lady, about a bear-bait- 
 ing here. 
 
 .Sir To. To anger him, we'll have the bear again ; 
 and we will fool him black and blue : Shall we 
 not, sir Andrew ? 
 
 Sir And. An we do not, it is pity of our lives. 
 
 Enter Maria. 
 
 Sir To. Here comes the little villain : How 
 now, mv nettle of India. 
 
 Fto. 
 
 'Sooth, but you must. 
 
 Say, that some lady, as, perhaps, there is, 
 Hath for your love as great a pang of heart 
 As you have for Olivia : you cannot love her : 
 You tell her so ; Must she not then be answer'd ? 
 
 Duke. There's is no woman's sides, 
 Can 'bide the beating of so strong a passion 
 As love doth give niy heart : no woman's lyjart 
 So big, to hold so much ; they lack retention. 
 Alas, their love may be call'd appetite, 
 No motion of the liver, but the palate, 
 That suffer surfeit, cloyment, and revolt ; 
 But mine is all as hungry as the sea, 
 And can digest as much : make no compare 
 Between that love a woman can bear me, 
 And thdt I owe Olivia. 
 
 Fto. Ay, but I know, - 
 
 Duke. What dost 1hou know ? 
 
 Fto. Too well what love women to men may 
 
 owe : 
 
 In faith, thny are as true of h ri art as we. 
 My father had a daughter lov'd a man, 
 As it might be, perhaps, were I woman, 
 I should your lordship. 
 
 A precious stone of all colours 
 Denial, 
 
 shadow, this half hour : observe him, for the love 
 of mockery ; for, I know, this letter will make a 
 contemplative idiot of him. Close, in the name ol 
 jesting! [The men hide themselves.] Lie thou 
 there ; [throws down a letter] for here comes the 
 
 trout that must be caught with tickling. 
 
 Enter Malvolio. 
 
 [Exit Maria. 
 
 M Decks.' 
 
 JIal. 'Tis but fortune ; all is fortune. Maria 
 once told me, she did affect me : and I have heard 
 herself come thus near, that, should she fancy,* it 
 should be one of my complexion. Besides, she' uses 
 me with a more exalted respect, than any one else 
 that follows her. What should I think on't? 
 
 Sir To. Here's an over-weening rogue ! 
 
 Fab. O, peace ! Contemplation makes a rare 
 turkey-cock of him; how he jets* under his ad- 
 vanced plumes ! 
 
 Sir dnd. 'Slight,! could so beat the rogue : 
 
 Sir To. Peace, I sav. 
 
 Mai. To be count Malvolio! 
 
 Sir To. Ah, rosrue ! 
 
 Sir Jlnd. PistoPhim, pistol him. 
 
 Sir To. Peace, peace ! 
 
 Mai. There is example for't; the ladv of the 
 strachy married the yeoman of the wardrobe. 
 
 Sir Jln-l. Fie On him, Jezebel ! 
 
 Fa6. (), peace ! now he's deeply in ; look how 
 imagination blows 6 him ! 
 
 (4) Love. (5) Struts, (6) Puffs him up
 
 Seen* F. 
 
 TWELFTH-NIGHT ; OR, WHAT YOU WILL 
 
 JSal, Having been three months married to her, 
 titling in my state, 1 
 
 Sir To. O, for a stone-bow, to hit him in the eje ! 
 .Ma/. Calling my officers about me, in my branch- 
 
 JtfoZ. M, O, A, I, doth sway my life. Nay, but 
 first,, let me see, let me see, let me see. 
 Fab. What a dish of poison has she dressed him ! 
 Sir To. And with what wing the stannyel* 
 
 ed velvet gown ; having 1 come from a day-bed, 2 checks* at it! 
 
 where I left Olivia sleeping. | Mai. / may common d where I adore. Why. she 
 
 Sir To. Fire and brimstone ! may command me ; I serve her, she is my lady. 
 
 fab. 0, peace, peace ! Why, this is evident to any formal capacity. "There 
 
 Mai. And then to have the humour of state : is no obstruction in this; And the end, What 
 
 and after a demure travel of regard, telling them, 'should that alphabetical position portend? if 1 
 
 I know my place, as 1 would they should do their'sj could make that resemble something in me, 
 
 to ask for my kinsman Toby : 
 
 Sir To. Bolts and shackles ! 
 
 Fab. 0, peace, peace, peace ! now, now. 
 
 Jlal. Seven of my people, with an obedient start, 
 make out for him : I frown the while ; and, per- 
 chance, wind up my watch, or play with some rich 
 jewel. Toby approaches ; court'sies there to me : 
 
 Sir To. Shall this fellow live ? 
 
 Fab. Though oar silence be drawn from us with 
 cars, yet peace. 
 
 .Vat. I extend my hand to him thus, quenching 
 
 my familiar smile with an austere regard ot'coatrol : i follow, but does. 
 
 Softly ! Jtf, 0, A, /. 
 
 Sir To. O, ay! make up that : he is now at a 
 cold scent. 
 
 Fab. Sowter 6 will cry upon't, for all this, though 
 it be as rank as a fox. 
 
 Mai. M, Malvolio ; M, why, that begins my 
 name. 
 
 Fab. Did not I say, he would work it out ? the 
 cur is excellent at faults. 
 
 Mai. M, But then there is no consonancy in 
 the sequel ; that suffers under probation : A should 
 
 "Sir To. And does not Toby take you a blow o' 
 the lips then .' 
 J\Ial. Saying, Cousin Toby, my fortunes having 
 
 Fab. And shall end, I hope. 
 Sir To. Ay, or I'll cudgel him, and make him 
 cry, 0. 
 
 cast mt on your niece, give me this prerogative of 
 sptech : 
 
 Sir To. What, what ? 
 
 Mai. You must amend your drunkenness. 
 
 Sir To. Out, scab! . _ _, 
 
 Fab. Nay, patience, or we break the sinews of < the former : and yet, to crush this a little, it would 
 pur plot. j bow to me. for every one of these letters .are in my 
 
 Mai. Besides, ymt waste the treasure of your name. Soft ! here follows prose.//" this fall into 
 
 ' thy hand, revolve. In my stars I am above thee ; 
 
 Mai. And then I comes behind ; 
 
 Fab. Ay, an you had an eye behind you, you 
 might see more detraction at your heels, than for- 
 tunes before you. 
 
 Mai. M, 0, A, I; This simulation is not as 
 
 time with a foolish {might ; 
 
 Sir And. That's me, I warrant you. 
 
 Mai. One sir Andrew : 
 
 Sir And. I knew, 'twas I ; for many do call me 
 fool. 
 
 J\Ial. What employment have we here ? 
 
 [ Taking up the letter. 
 
 Fab. Now is the woodcock near the gin. 
 
 Sir To. O, peace ! arid the spirit of humours 
 intimate reading aloud to him ! 
 
 JJ.al. By mv life, that is my lady's hand : these 
 be her very C"s, her t/'s, and her T's ; and thus 
 
 mal'.es she. her great P's. 
 question, her hand. 
 
 It is, in contempt of 
 
 Sir And. Her C>s, her IPs, and her T's : Why 
 that ? 
 
 M al. [reads] To tJie unknown beloved, this, and 
 my 4;ood wishes : her very phrases ! By your leave, 
 wax. Soft! and the impressure her lAicrece, 
 with which she uses to seal: 'tis my lady: To 
 who si should this be ? 
 Ft tb. This wins him, liver and all. 
 M il. [reads] Jove knows, I love : 
 
 But wlw ? 
 Lips do not move, 
 No man must knoic. 
 
 *Vo : nan must know. What follows ! the numbers 
 alte red ! JV'o man must know .-if this should be 
 thef ~ Malvolio? 
 
 S n- To. Marry, hang thee, brock ! 3 
 ft lal. 1 may command, where I adore : 
 But silence, like aLucrece knife, 
 With bloodless stroke my heart doth gore ; 
 
 M, O, A, I, doth sway my life. 
 j fab. A fustian riddle ! 
 KrTo. Excellent wench, -say I. 
 
 (1) State-chair. (2) Couch. 
 
 (3) Badger, (4) Hawk, (5) Flies at it 
 
 but be not afraid of greatness : Some are corn 
 great, some achieve greatness, and some have great-' 
 ness thrust upon them. Thy fates open their 
 hands ; let thy blood and spirit embrace them. 
 And, to inure thystlf to what thmt art like to be, 
 cast thy humble slough,' 1 and appear fresh. Be op- 
 posite with a kinsman, surly with servants : let thy 
 tongue tang arguments of state ; put thyself into 
 (he trick of sineidarity : She thus advises thee. 
 that si'hs- for ihee. Remember who commended 
 thy yellow stockings; and wished to see thee evtr 
 cross-gartered : I say remember. Go to ; thou art 
 made if thou desirest to be so ; if not, let mf see 
 thee a steward still, the fellow of servants, and not 
 
 She 
 
 worthy to touch fortune's fmg< 
 that would alter services with 
 
 ers. Farewell, 
 thee, 
 
 The fortunate-unhappy ; 
 Day lisht and champain 8 discovers not more : this 
 is open". I will be proud, I will read politic autliors, 
 I will baffle sir Toby, I will wash off gross ac- 
 quaintance, I will be "point-de-vice, 9 the very man. 
 I do not now fool myself, to let imagination iade 
 me ; for every reason excites to this, that my lady 
 loves me. She did commend my yellow stockings of 
 late, she did praise my leg being cross-gartered ; and 
 in this she manifests'herself to my love, and, with 
 kind of injunction, drives me to these habits of 
 her likine. I thank my stars, I am happy. I will 
 be stransre, stout, in yellow stockings, and cross- 
 o-artered" even with the swiftness of putting on. 
 3ove, and my stars be praised ! Here is yet a post- 
 script. Thou canst not choose but know who 1 am. 
 If thou entertainest my love, let it appear in thy 
 smiling ; thy smiles become thee well : llierefore in 
 my presence still smile, dear my sweet, I pr'ytfac. 
 
 (6) Name of a hound. (7) Skin of a snake. 
 (8) Open country. (9) Utmost cxaclnesi . 
 L
 
 82 
 
 TWELFTH-NIGHT; OR, WHAT YOU WILL. 
 
 III. 
 
 Jove, I thank thee. I will smile ; I will do every 
 
 thing that thou wilt have me. 
 
 [Exit. 
 
 Fab. I will not give my part of this sport for a 
 pension of thousands to be paid from the Sophy. 
 
 Sir To. I could marry this wench for this de- 
 vice. 
 
 Sir And. So could I too. 
 
 Sir To. And ask no other dowry with her, but 
 such another jest. 
 
 Enter Maria. 
 
 Sir And. Nor I neither. 
 
 Fab. Here comes my noble gull-catcher. 
 
 Sir To. Wilt thou set thy foot o' my neck? 
 
 Sir And. Or o' mine either ? 
 
 Sir To. Shall I play my freedom at tray-trip, 1 
 and become thy bond-slave ? 
 
 Sir And. I'faith, or I either. 
 
 Sir To. Why, thou hast put him in such a dream, 
 that, when the image of it leaves him, he must run 
 mad. 
 
 Mar. Nay, but say true ; does it work upon him ? 
 
 Sir To. Like aqua-vitae with a midwife. 
 
 Mar. If you will then see the fruits of the sport, 
 mark his first approach before my lady : he will 
 come to her in yellow stockings, and 'tis a colour 
 she abhors ; and cross-gartered, a fashion she de- 
 tests ; and he will smile upon her, which will now 
 be so unsuitable to her disposition, being addicted 
 to a melancholy as she is, that it cannot but turn 
 him into a notable contempt : if you will see it, 
 follow me. 
 
 Sir To. To the gates of Tartar, thou most excel- 
 
 lent devil of wit! 
 Sir And. I'll make one too. 
 
 ACT III. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 Fio. I warrant, thou art a merry fellow, and 
 carest for nothing. 
 
 Clo. Not so, sir, I do care for something: but 
 in my conscience, sir, I dp not care for you ; if that 
 be to care for nothing, sir, I would it would make 
 you invisible. 
 
 Vio. Art not thou the lady Olivia's fool ? 
 
 Clo. No, indeed, sir; the lady Olivia has no 
 folly: she will keep no fool, sir, till she be married ; 
 and fools are as like husbands ? as pilchards are to 
 herrings, the husband's the bigger ; I am, indeed, 
 not her tool, but her corrupter of words. 
 
 Fio. I saw thee late at the count Orsino's. 
 
 Clo. Foolery, sir, does walk about the orb, like 
 the sun ; it shines every where. I would be sorry, 
 sir, b'.it the fool should be as oft with your master, 
 as with my mistress : I think, I saw your wisdom 
 there. 
 
 Fio. Nay, an thou pass upon me, I'll no more 
 with thee. Hold, there's expenses for thee. 
 
 Clo. Now Jove, in his next commodity of hair, 
 send thee a beard ! 
 
 Fio. By my troth, I'll tell thec ; I am almost 
 sick for one ; though I would not have it grow on 
 my chin. Is thy lady within ? 
 
 'Clo. >Vould not a pair of these have bred, sir ? 
 
 Fio. Yes, bcinpf kept together, and put to use. 
 
 Clo. I would play lord Pandarus* of Phrygia, sir, 
 to bring a. Cressida'to this Troilus. 
 
 Fio. T understand you, sir j 'tis well begg'd. 
 
 Clo. The matter, I hope, is not great, sir, beg- 
 ging but a beggar ; Cressida was a beggar. Mr 
 lady is within, sir. I will construe to them whence 
 you come: who you are, and what you would, are 
 out of my welkin : I might say, element ; but the 
 
 SCENE /.Olivia's Garden. Enter Viola, and 
 Clown with a tabor. 
 
 Via. Save thee, friend, and thy music: Dost For folly, that he wisely shows, is fit ; 
 
 T tV. UttlC HH-tj V*PV 
 
 thou live by thy tabor ? 
 
 Clo. No, sir, I live by the church. 
 
 Kio. Art thou a churchman ? 
 
 Clo. No such matter, sir ; I do live by the 
 church : for I do live at my house, and my house 
 doth stand by the church. 
 
 Vio. So thou may'st say, the king lies* by a beg- 
 gar, if a beegar dwell near him : or, the church 
 stands by thy tabor, if thy tabor stand by the 
 church. 
 
 Clo. You have said, sir. To see this age ! A 
 sentence is but a cheveril 1 glove to a good wit ; 
 How quickly the wrong side may be turned out- 
 ward! 
 
 word is over-worn. 
 
 [Exit. 
 
 Vio. This fellow's wise enouch to play the fool , 
 And, to do that well, craves a kind of wit : 
 He must observe their mood on whom he jests, 
 The quality of persons, and the time ; 
 And, like the haggard, 1 check nt every feather 
 That comes before his eye. This is a practice, 
 As full of labour as a wise man's art : 
 
 But wise men, folly -fallen, quite taint their wit. 
 
 Enter Sir Toby Belch and Sir Andrew Ague- 
 cheek. 
 
 S/r To. Save you, gentleman. 
 
 Vio. And you, sir. 
 
 Sir And. Dicu vous garde, monsieur. 
 
 Vio. Et vous aussi : votre serviteur. 
 
 Sir And. I hope, sir, you are ; and I am y our?. 
 
 Sir To. Will you encounter the house'? my 
 niece is desirous you should enter, if your tra de be 
 to her. 
 
 Vio. I am bound to your niece, sir : I meai i, she 
 is the list* of my voyage. 
 
 Vio. Nay, that's certain ; they, that dally nicely | Sir To. Taste your legs, sir, put them to motion, 
 with words, may quickly make them wanton. j Vio. My legs do better understand me, sir, than 
 
 Clo. I would therefore, my sister had had no. I understand what you mean by bidding me taste 
 name, sir. ;my legs. 
 
 Vio. Why, man ? j Sir To. I mean, to go, sir, to enter. 
 
 Clo. Why, sir, her name's a word j and to dally Vio. I will answer you with gait and cntra nee : 
 with that word, might make my sister wanton :!But we are prevented. 
 But, indeed, words are very rascals, since bonds 
 disgraced them. 
 
 Vio. Thy reason, man ? 
 
 Clo. Troth, sir. I can yield you none without 
 words ; and worus are grown so false, I am loath 
 *o prove reason with them. 
 
 (1 ) A boy's diversion three and tip, 
 
 (2) Dweus. (S) Kid, 
 
 Enter Olivia and Maria. 
 
 Most excellent accomplished lady, the heavens rain 
 odours on you ! 
 
 Sir And. That youth's a rare courtier ! J lain 
 odours ! well. 
 
 (4) Seethe play of Troiliis and Crtssida. 
 
 (5) A hawk not well trained, (6) Bound, 11 mit.
 
 II. 
 
 TWELFTH NIGHT ; OR, WHAT YOU WILL. 
 
 Vio. My matter hath no voice, lady, but to your 
 own most pregnant 1 and vouchsafed ear. 
 
 Sir And. Odours, pregnant, and vouchsafed : 
 I'll get 'em all three ready. 
 
 Oli. Let the garden door be shut, and leave me 
 to my hearing. 
 
 [Exeunt Sir Toby, Sir Andrew, and Maria. 
 Give me your hand, sir. 
 
 Vio. My duty, madam, and most humble service. 
 
 Oli, What is your name ? 
 
 Vio. Caesario is your servant's name, fair princess. 
 
 Oli. My servant, sir ! 'Twas never merry world, 
 Since lowly feigning was call'd compliment : 
 You are servant to the count Orsino, youth. 
 
 Vio. And he is yours, and his must needs be 
 
 yours; 
 i our servant's servant is your servant, madam. 
 
 Oli. For him, I think not on him : for his thoughts, 
 Would they were blanks, rather than fill'd with me ! 
 
 Vio. Madam, I come to whet your gentle thoughts 
 On his behalf: 
 
 Oft. 0, by your leave, I pray you ; 
 
 I bade you never speak again of him : 
 But, would you undertake another suit, 
 I had rather hear you to solicit that, 
 Than music from the spheres. 
 
 Via. Dear lady, - 
 
 Oli. Give me leave, I beseech you : I did send, 
 After the last enchantment you did here, 
 A Tins in chase of you ; so did I abuse 
 Myself, my servant, and, I fear me, you : 
 Under your hard construction must I sit, 
 To force that on you, in a shameful cunning, 
 Which vou knew none of yours : What might you 
 
 'think? 
 
 Have you not set mine honour at the stake, 
 And baited it with all the unmuzzled thoughts 
 That tyrannous heart can think ? To one of your 
 
 receiving 2 
 
 Enough is shown ; a Cyprus, not a bosom, 
 Hides my poor heart : So let me hear you speak. 
 
 Vio. I pity you. 
 
 0/t. That's a degree to love. 
 
 Vio. No, not a "rise ; s for 'tis a vulgar proof, 
 That very oft we pity enemies. 
 
 0/f. Why, then, rnethinks, 'tis time to smile 
 again : 
 
 world, how apt the poor are to be proud ! 
 If one should be a prey, how much the better 
 To fall before the lion, than the wolf 1 
 
 [Clock strikes. 
 
 The clock upbraids me with the waste of time. 
 Be not afraid, good youth, I will not have you : 
 And yet., when wit and youth is come to harvest, 
 Your wife is like to reap a proper man : 
 There lies your way, due west. 
 
 Vio. Then westward-hoe : 
 
 Grace, and good disposition 'tend your ladyship ! 
 You'll nothing, madam, to my lord by me 7 
 
 Oli. Stay: 
 
 1 prVhee, tell me, what thou think'st of me. 
 
 Vio. That you do think, you are not what you 
 are. 
 
 Oli. If I think so, I think the same of you. 
 
 Vio. Then think you right : I am not what I am. 
 
 Oli. I would, you were as I would have you be ! 
 
 Vio. Would it be better, madam, than I am, 
 I wish it mifrht ; for now I am your fool. 
 
 0/i. O, what a deal of scorn looks beautiful 
 In the contempt and anger of his lip ! 
 
 Ready. (2) Ready apprehension. (3) Step. 
 4) Ijj spite of. 
 
 A murd'rous guilt shows not itself more toaa 
 Than love that would seem hid : love's night is nooo. 
 Cesario, by the roses of the spring, 
 By maicihood, honour, truth, and every thing 1 , 
 I love thee so, that, maugre 4 all thy pride, 
 Nor wit, nor reason, can my passion hide. 
 Do not extort thy reasons from this clause, 
 For, that I woo, thou therefore hast no cause ; 
 But, rather, reason thus with reason fetter: 
 Love sought is pood, but given unsought, is better. 
 
 Vio. By innocence I swear, and by my youth, 
 I have one heart, one bosom, and one truth, 
 And that no woman has nor never none 
 Shall mistress be of it, save I alone. 
 And so adieu, good madam ; never more 
 Will I my master's tears to you deplore. 
 
 Oii. Yet come again : for thou, perhaps, may'st 
 
 move 
 That heart, which now abhors, to like his love. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 SCEJVE //. .2 Boom in Olivia's house. Enter 
 Sir Toby Belch, Sir Andrew Ague-cheek, and 
 Fabian. 
 
 Sir Jlnd. No, faith, I'll not stay a jot longer. 
 
 Sir To. Thy reason, dear venom, give thy rea- 
 son. 
 
 Fab. You must need yield your reason, sir An- 
 drew. 
 
 Sir 3nrf. Marry, I saw your niece do more fa- 
 vours to the count's servintr-man, than ever she 
 bestowed upon me ; I saw't i' the orchard. 
 
 Sir To. Did she see thce the while, old boy ? 
 tell me that. 
 
 Sir 3n</. As plain as I see you now. 
 
 Fab. Tliis was a great argument of love in her 
 toward you. 
 
 Sir Jlnd. 'Slight ! will you make an ass o' me ? 
 
 Fab. I will prove it legitimate, sir, upon the 
 oaths of judgment and reason. 
 
 Sir To. And they have been grand jury-men, 
 since before Noah was a sailor. 
 
 Fab. She did show favour to the youth in your 
 sight, only to exasperate you, to awake your dor- 
 mouse valour, to put lire in your heart, and brim- 
 stone in your liver : You should then have accosted 
 her ; and with some excellent jest, fire-new from 
 the mint, you should have banged the youth into 
 dumbness. This was looked for at your hand, and 
 this was baulked : the double gilt of this oppor- 
 tunity you let time wash off, and you are now sailed 
 into the. north of my lady's opinion ; where you will 
 hang like an icicle on a Dutchman's beard', unless 
 you do redeem it by some laudable attempt, either 
 of valour, or policy. 
 
 Sir Jnd. And't be any wav, it must be with 
 valour ; for policv I hate : I had as lief be a 
 Brownist,* as a politician. 
 
 Sir To. Why then, build me thy fortunes upon 
 the basis of valour. Challenge me the count's 
 youth to fight with him ; hurt him in eleven places r 
 my niece shall take note of it: and assure thyself, 
 there is no love-broker in the world can more pre- 
 vail in man's commendation with woman, than re- 
 port of valour. 
 
 Fab. There is no way but this, sir Andrew. 
 
 Sir Jlnd. Will either of you bear me a chal- 
 lenge to him ? 
 
 Sir To. Go, write it in a martial hand ; be 
 curst' and brief; it is no matter how witty, so it be 
 
 (5) Separatists in queen Elizabeth's reign, 
 
 (6) Crabbed.
 
 
 84 
 
 TWELFTH-NIGHT ; OR, WHAT YOU WILL. 
 
 Act IIL 
 
 eloquent, and full of invention: taunt him with! Seb. I am not weary, and 'tis long to night ; 
 
 the license of ink: if thou thou'st him some thrice, 1 1 pray vou, let us satisfy our eyes 
 
 it shall not be amiss ; and as ir.any lies as will lie With the memorials, and the things of fame, 
 
 in thy sheet of paper ? although (he sheet were big 
 enough for the bed oi Ware 1 in England, set 'em 
 down ; go, about it. Let there be gall enough in 
 thy ink; though thou write with a goose-pen, no 
 matter : About it. 
 
 Sir And, Where shall I find you ? 
 
 Sir To. We'll call ihee at the cubiculo ; 2 Go. 
 
 [Exit Sir Andrew. 
 
 Fab. This is a dear manikin to you, sir Toby. 
 
 Sir To. I have been dear to him, lad ; s'ome 
 
 That do renown this citv. 
 
 Jlnt. 
 
 Would, you'd pardon me ; 
 
 I do not without danger walk these streets : 
 Once, in a sea-fight, 'gainst the count his galleys, 
 I did some service ; of such note, indeed, 
 That, were I ta'en here, it would scarce be an- 
 swer'd. 
 
 Seb. Belike, you slew great number of his people. 
 
 tint. The oftence is not of such a bloody nature ; 
 Albeit the quality of the time, and quarrel, 
 
 two thousand strong or so. I Might well have given us bloody argument. 
 
 Fab. We shall have a rare letter from him : but i It might have since been answer'd in repaying 
 you'll not deliver it. j What we took from them ; which, for traffic sake, 
 
 Sir To. Never trust ine then : and by all means (Most of our city did : only myself stood out : 
 
 * it ii_ A _ i ,ti_ tl _ j I? u;_u if* Y i l I* :_ L _l 
 
 atir on the youth to an answer. I think, oxen and 
 wainropcs 1 cannot hale them together. For An- 
 drew, if be were opened, and you find so much 
 blood in hi* liver as will clog the foot of a flea, I'll 
 eat the rest of the anatomy. 
 
 Fab. And his opposite, the youth, bears in his In the south suburbs, at the Elephant, 
 
 visage no great presage of cruelty. 
 Enter Maria. 
 
 Sir To. Look, where the youngest wren of nine 
 comes. 
 
 .Mar. If you desire the spleen, and will laugh 
 yourselves into stitches, follow me : yon' gull Mal- 
 volio is turned heathen, a very renegado ; for there 
 is no Christian, that means to' be saved by believing 
 rightly, can ever believe such impossible passages 
 of grossness. He's in yellow stockings. 
 
 .Sir To. And cross-gartered? 
 
 .War. Most villanously ; like a pedant that keeps 
 a school i' the church. I have dogged him, like his 
 murderer : he does obey every point of the letter 
 that I dropped to betray him. He does smile his 
 face into more lines, than are in the new map, with 
 the augmentation of the Indies ; you have not seen 
 such a thing as 'tis ; I can hardly forbear hurling. 
 
 uvu a. 111111:1 as na . i ^un iiaiuiy im ucai uutuui: r A i i i * /% ..i . . 
 
 things at him. I know, my lady will strike him ; if * or y uth is bought more oft, than begg'd, or bor- 
 
 aVlA nn Vi*MI emillt nnfl Inlro't Ct\i t *\ rrrnai Ai-i-rtui* TOvV u. 
 
 she Ho, he'll smile, and take't for a great favour. 
 Sir To. Come, bring us, bring us where he is. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE IIL A street. Enter Antonio and Se- 
 bastian. 
 
 Se6. I would not, by my will, have troubled you ; 
 But, since you make your pleasure of your pains, 
 I will no further chide you. 
 
 Jlnt. I could not stay behind you ; my desire, 
 More sharp than filed steel, did spur me forth ; 
 And not all love to see you (though so much, 
 As might have drawn one to a longer voyage,) 
 But jealousy what might befall your travel, 
 Being skilless in these parts ; which to a stranger, 
 Unguided, and unfriended, often prove 
 Rough and unhospitable : my willing love 
 The rather by these arguments of fear, 
 Set forth in your pursuit. 
 
 Seb. My kind Antonio, 
 
 I can no other answer make, but, thanks, 
 And thanks, and ever thanks : Often good turns 
 Are shuffled oif with such uncurrent pay : 
 But, were my worth,* as is my conscience, firm, 
 You should find better dealing. What's to do ? 
 Shall we go see the reliques of this town? 
 
 int. To-morrow, sir; best, first, go see your 
 lodging. 
 
 H) In Hertfordshire, which held forty person* . 
 (*) Chamber, (3) Wagon ropes. 
 
 For which, if I be lapsed 5 "in this place, 
 I shall pay dear. 
 
 /Seo. Do not then walk too open. 
 
 Jlnt. It doth not fit me. Hold, sir, here's my 
 purse ; 
 
 Is best to lodge : I will bespeak bur diet, 
 Whiles you beguile the time, and feed your know- 
 ledge, 
 With viewing of the town ; there shall you have me. 
 
 Seb. Why I your purse ? 
 
 Jlnt. Haply, your eye shall light upon some toy 
 You have desire to purchase ; and your store, 
 I think, is not for idle markets, sir. 
 
 Seb. I'll be your purse-bearer, and leave you for 
 
 An hour. 
 Jlnt. 
 Seb. 
 
 To the Elephant. 
 
 I do remember. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE IV. Olivia's Garden. Enter Olivia 
 
 and Maria. 
 
 OK. I have sent after him : He says, he'll come ; 
 How shall I feast him ? what bestow on him ? 
 
 I speak too loud. 
 Where is Malvolio ? he is sad, and civil,' 
 And suits well for a servant with my fortunes ; 
 Where is Malvolio ? 
 
 Mar. He's coming, madam ; 
 
 But in strange manner. He is sure possess'd. 
 
 .OH. Why, what's the matter ? does he rave? 
 
 Jtlar. No, madam, 
 
 He does nothing but smile : your ladyship 
 Were best have guard about you, if he come ; 
 For, sure, the man is tainted in his wits. 
 
 OH. Go call him hither. I'm as inad as he, 
 If sad and merry madness equal be. 
 
 Enter Malvolio. 
 
 How now, Malvolio ? 
 
 Mai. Sweet lady, ho, ho ! [Smiles fantastically. 
 
 OIL Sinil'st thou? 
 I sent for thee upon a sad' occasion. 
 
 Md. Sad, lady? I could be sad: this does make 
 some obstruction in the blood, this cross-gartering : 
 but what of that, if it pleases the eye of one, it if 
 with me as the very true sonnet is : Please one and 
 please all. 
 
 OIL Why, how dost thou, man ? what is the mat- 
 ter with thee ? 
 
 Mai. Not black in my mind, though yellow in 
 
 (4) Wealth. 
 
 (6) Grave and. demure. 
 
 (5) Caught. 
 
 (7) Grave,
 
 Scent IY. 
 
 TWELFTH-NIGHT ; OR, WHAT YOU WILL. 
 
 85 
 
 my legs : It did come to his hands, and commands 
 shall be executed. I think, we do know the sweet 
 Roman hand. 
 
 Oli. Wilt thou go to bed, Malvolio ? 
 
 Mai. To bed? ay, sweet-heart; and I'll come 
 to thee. 
 
 Oli. God comfort thee ! Why dost thou smile so, 
 and kiss thy hand so oft ? 
 
 Mar. How do you, Malvolio ? 
 
 Mai. At your request ? Yes ; nightingales an- 
 swer daws. 
 
 Mar. Why appear you with this ridiculous bold- 
 ness before my lady ? 
 
 Mai. Be not afraid of greatness : 'Twas well 
 writ. 
 
 Oli. What meanest thou by that, Malvolio ? 
 
 Mai. Some are born great. 
 
 OK. Ha? 
 
 Mai. Sortie achieve greatness, 
 
 0/i. What say'st thou? 
 
 Mai. .ind some have greatness thrust upon tkem. 
 
 Oli. Heaven restore th 
 
 Mai. Remember who commended thy yellow with him. 
 
 ttockmg* ; 
 
 OH. Thy yellow stockings ? 
 
 Mai. dud wished to see thee cross-gartered. 
 
 Oli. Cross-gartered? 
 
 Mai. Go to : thou art made, if thou desirest to 
 It so; 
 
 Oli. Am I made? 
 
 Mai. If not. let me see thee a servant still. 
 
 Oli. Why, this is very midsummer madness. 1 
 
 Enter Servant. 
 
 Ser. Madam, the young gentleman of the count 
 Orsino's is returned ; I could hardly entreat him 
 back ; he attends your ladyship's pleasure. 
 
 0/t. I'll come to him. '[Exit Servant.] 
 
 Mai. Go off: I discard you ; let me enjoy my 
 private ; go on. 
 
 Mar. Lo, how hollow the fiend speaks within 
 him ! did I not tell you ? Sir Toby, my lady 
 prays vou to have a care of him. 
 
 Mat. Ah, ha ! does she so ? 
 
 Sir To. Go to, so to ; peace, peace, we must deal 
 gentlv with him ; let me alone. How do you, Mal- 
 volio? how is't with you? What, man ! defy the 
 devil : consider, he's an enemy to mankind. 
 
 Mai. Do you know what you say ? 
 
 Mar. La you, an you speak ill of the devil, how 
 he takes it at heart"! Pray God, he be not be- 
 witched ! 
 
 Fab. Carry his water to the wise woman. 
 
 Mar. Marrv, and it shall be done to-morrow 
 morning, if I live. My lady would not lose him 
 for more than I'll say. 
 
 Mai. How now, mistress ? 
 
 Mar. O lord ! 
 
 Sir To. Pr'ythee, hold thy peace ; this is not the 
 way : Do you not see, you move him ? let me alone 
 
 Maria, let this fellov,- be looked to. Where's my 
 cousin Toby ? Let some of my people have a spe- 
 cial care of him ; I would not have him miscarry 
 for the half of my dowry. [Exit Olivia and Mar. 
 Mai. Oh, ho ! do vou come near me now ? no 
 worse man than sir Toby to look to me ? This con- 
 curs directly with the letter : she sends him on pur- 
 pose, that I may appear stubborn to him ; for she 
 --'-""- the letter. Cast the humble 
 
 Fab. No way but gentleness ; gently, gently : 
 the fiend is rough, and will not be roughly used. 
 
 j> To. Why, how now, my bawcock ?*. how 
 dost thou, chuck ? 
 
 Mai. Sir? 
 
 Sir To. Ay, Biddy, come with me. What, man ! 
 'tis not for gravity to play at cherry-pit 1 with Sa- 
 tan : Hang him, 'foul colfier ! 
 
 S-Iar. Get him to say his prayers ; good sir Toby, 
 get him to pray. 
 
 Mel. My prayers, minx ? 
 
 Mar. No, I warrant you, he will not hear of 
 godliness. 
 
 . Go, hang yourselves all ! you ae idle, 
 Goodjshallow things: I am not of your element; you 
 
 incites me to that ii 
 slmi 
 
 vugh, says she; be opposite with a kinsman, surly 
 ...ith servants, let tlnj tongue tan? icitfi arguments 
 of state, put thyself into the trick of singularity ; 
 
 shall know more hereafter. 
 
 [E'xit. 
 
 ,'': To. Is't possible ! 
 Fab. If this were played upon a stage now, I 
 could condemn it as an improbable fiction. 
 
 Sir To. His very genius hath taken the infection 
 of the device, man. 
 
 . Nay, pursue him now ; lest the device 
 take air, and taint. 
 
 . Why, we shall make him mad, indeed. 
 
 Mar. The house will be the quieter. 
 Sir To. Come, we'll have him in a 
 
 in a dark room, 
 
 , r v v -a a , , and bound. My niece is already in the belief that 
 
 and, consequently, "sets down the manner how ; as,, 1 he is mad ; we may carry it thus for our pleasure, 
 a sad face, a reverend carriage, a slow tongue, in and his penance, till our" very pastime, tired out of 
 the habit of some sir f note, and 50 forth. I have breath, prompt us to have mercy on him : at which 
 limed her; 2 but it is Jove's doincr, and Jove make 'time, we will bring the device to the bar, and 
 me thankful ! And, when she wen! away now, Let crown thee for a finder of madmen. But see, but see. 
 this fellow be looked to : Fellow \ 3 not" Malvolio, ! ,, , . . , 
 
 nor after my degree, but fellow. Why, every thing ; Enttr Slf Andrew Ague-cheek, 
 
 adheres together; that no dram of "a scruple, no' Fab. More matter for a May morning, 
 ecruple of a scruple, no obstacle, no incredulous or: Sir dnd. Here's the challenge, read it ; I war- 
 unsafe circumstance, What can-be said ? Nothincr. rant, there's vinesrar and pepper in't. 
 
 that can be, can come between me and the full 
 prospect of my hopes. We'll, Jove, not I, is the 
 doer of this, and he is to be thanked. 
 
 Re-enter Maria, with Sir Toby Belch, and Fabian. 
 
 Sir To. Which way is he, in the name of sanctity ? 
 If all the devils in hell be drawn in little, and Le- 
 gion himself possessed him, yet I'll speak to him. 
 
 Fab. Here he is, here he is : How is't with you, 
 air ? how is't with you, man ? 
 
 HI Hot weather madness. 
 
 (2) Caught her as a bird with birdlime. 
 
 (3) Companion. 
 
 Fab. Is't so saucy? 
 
 Sir JJnd. Ay, is it, I warrant him : do but read. 
 
 .S'r To. Give me. [reads.] Youth, whatsoever 
 Hunt art, thc art but a scurvy fellow. 
 
 Fab. Good, and valiant. 
 
 Sir To. Wonder not, nor admire not in thy mt'nrf, 
 why I do call thee su, for I will show thee no reason 
 for't. 
 
 Fab. A good note : that keeps you from the blow 
 of the law. 
 
 (4} Jolly cock, be mi and coq. 
 
 (5) A play among boys. 
 
 (6) Colliers were accounted great cheats,
 
 TWELFTH NIGHT ; OR, WHAT YOU WILL. 
 
 Jet III. 
 
 Sir To. Thou eomest to the lady Olivia, and in 
 my sight she uses thee kindly : but than liest in thy 
 throat, that is not the matter I challenge thee for. 
 
 Fab. Very brief, and exceeding good sense-less. 
 
 Sir To. I will way-lay thee going home ; where 
 if it be thy chance to kitt me, - 
 
 Fab. Good. 
 . Sir To. Thou killtst me like a rogue and a villain. 
 
 Fab. Still you keep o' the windy side of the law : 
 Good. 
 
 Sir To. Fare thee well ; And God have mercy 
 upon one of our souls ! He may have mercy upon 
 mine ; but my hope is better, and so look to thy- 
 self. Thy friend, as thou usest him, and thy 
 sworn enemy. Andrew Ague-cheek. 
 
 Sir To. If this letter moves him not, his legs 
 cannot : I'll giv't him. 
 
 Mar. You may have very fit occasion for't ; he 
 is now in some commerce with my lady, and will 
 by and by depart. 
 
 Sir To. Go, sir Andrew ; scout me for him at 
 the corner of the orchard, like a bum-bailift': so 
 soon as ever thou seest him, draw ; and as thou 
 drawest, swear horrible j for it comes to pass oft, 
 that a terrible oath, with a swaggering accent 
 sharply twanged off, gives manhood more appro- 
 bation than ever proof itself would have earned 
 him. Away. 
 
 Sir And. Nay, let me alone for swearing. [Ex. 
 
 Sir To. Now'will not I deliver his letter : for the 
 behaviour of the young gentleman gives him out 
 to be of good capacity and breeding ; his employ- 
 ment between his lord anil my niece confirms no 
 less ; therefore this letter, being so excellently ig- 
 norant, will breed no terror in the youth, he will 
 find it coiaes from a clodpole. But, sir, I will de- 
 liver his challenge by word of mouth ; set upon 
 Ague-cheek a notable report of valour; and drive 
 the gentleman (as, I know, his youth will aptly re- 
 ceive it,) into a most hideous opinion of his rage, 
 skill, fury, and impetuosity. This will so fright 
 them both, that they will lull one another by the 
 look, like cockatrices. 
 
 Enter Olivia and Viola. 
 
 Fab. Here he comes with your niece : gjve 
 them way, till he take leave, and presently after him. 
 Sir To. I will meditate the while upon some 
 horrid message for a challenge. 
 
 [Exeunt Sir Toby, Fabian, and Maria. 
 0/i. I have said too much unto a heart of stone, 
 And laid mine honour too unchary 1 out : 
 There's something in me, that reproves my fault ; 
 But such a headstrong potent fault it is, 
 That it but mocks reproof. 
 Via. With the same 'haviour that your passion 
 
 bears, 
 
 Go on my master's griefs. 
 OK. Here, wear this jewel for me, 'tis my pic- 
 
 ture; 
 
 Refuse it not, it hath no tongue to vex you : 
 And, I beseech you, come again to-morrow. 
 What shall you ask of me, that I'll deny ; 
 That honour, sav'd, may upon asking give ? 
 Via. Nothing but this, your true love for my 
 
 master. 
 
 OK. How with mine honour may I give him that 
 Which I have given to you ? 
 
 Via. I will acquit you. 
 
 OK. Well, come again to-morrow : Fare thee 
 well; 
 
 ii! 
 
 I) Uncautiously. (2) Rapier. (S) Ready. 
 4} Sort. (5) Decision. (6) Adversary. 
 
 A fiend, like thee, might bear my soul to hell. [Ex. 
 Re-enter Sir Toby Belch, and Fabian. 
 
 Sir To. Gentleman, God save thee. 
 
 Via. And you, sir. 
 
 Sir To. That defence thou hast, betake thee 
 to't: of what nature the wrongs are thou hast 
 done him, I know not ; but thy interceptor, full of 
 despight, bloody as the. hunter, attends thee at the 
 orchard end : dismount thy tuck, 1 be yare' in thy 
 preparation, for thy assailant is quick, skilful, and 
 deadly. 
 
 Via. You mistake, sir ; I am sure, no man hath 
 any quarrel to me ; my remembrance is very frw: 
 and clear from any image of offence done to any man. 
 
 Sir To. You'll find it otherwise, I assure you : 
 therefore, if you hold your life at any price, betake 
 you to your guard ; lor your opposite hath in him 
 what youth, strength, skill, and wrath, can funmh 
 man withal. 
 
 Via. I prav you, sir, what is he ? 
 
 Sir To. He is knight, dubbed with unhackcd 
 rapier, and on carpet consideration ; but he is a 
 devil in private brawl: souls and bodies hath he 
 divorced three ; and his incensement at this mo- 
 ment is so implacable, that satisfaction can be none 
 but by pangs of death and sepulchre : hob, nob, is 
 his word ; give't, or take't 
 
 Vio. I will return again into the house, and de- 
 sire some conduct of the lady. 1 am no fighter. I 
 have heard of some kind of men, that put quarrels 
 purposely on others, to taste their valour : belike, 
 this is a man of that quirk.* 
 
 Sir To. Sir, no ; his indignation derives itself 
 out of a very competent injury ; therefore, get you 
 on, and give him his desire. Back you shall no't to 
 the house, unless you undertake that with me, 
 which with as much' safety you might answer him : 
 therefore, on, or strip your sword stark naked ; 
 for meddle you must, that's certain, or forswear to 
 wear iron about you. 
 
 Vio. This is as uncivil, as strange. I beseech 
 YOU, do me this courteous office, as to know of the 
 knight what my offence to him is ; it is something 
 of my negligence, nothing of my purpose. 
 
 Sir To. I will do so. Signior Fabian, star you 
 by this gentleman till my return. [Exit Sir To'by. 
 
 Fio. Pray you, sir, do you know of this matter ? 
 
 Fab. I know, the knight is incensed against you, 
 even to a mortal arbitrament ; s but nothing of the 
 circumstance more. 
 
 Vio. I beseech you, what manner of man is he ? 
 
 Fab. Nothing of that wonderful promise, to read 
 him by his form, as you are like to find him in (he 
 proof of his valour. He is, indeed, sir, the most 
 skilful, bloody, and fatal opposite 6 that you could 
 possibly have found in any part of Illyria : will you 
 walk towards him ? I will make your peace with 
 him, if I can. 
 
 Vio. I shall be much bound to you for't : I am 
 one, that would rather go with sir priest, than sir 
 knight : I care not who knows so much of my 
 mettle. [Exeunt. 
 
 Re-enter Sir Toby, with Sir Andrew. 
 
 Sir To. Why, man, he's a very devil ; I hare 
 not seen such a virago. I had a pass with him, 
 rapier, scabbard, and all, and he gives me the 
 stuck-in,' with such a mortal motion, that it is in- 
 evitable ; and on the answer, he pays you' as surely 
 
 (7| Stoccata, an Italian term in fencing. 
 (8) Does for you.
 
 Scene IT. 
 
 TWELFTH NIGHT ; OR, WHAT YOU WILL. 
 
 87 
 
 as your feet hit the ground they step on : they say, 
 he has been fencer to the Sophy. 
 
 Sir And. Pox on't, I'll not meddle with him. 
 
 Sir To. Ay, but he will not now be pacified: 
 Fabian can scarce hold him yonder. 
 
 Sir And. Plague on't^ an I thought he had been 
 valiant, and so cunning m fence, I'd have seen him 
 damned ere I'd have challenged him. Let him let 
 the matter slip, and I'll give him my horse, grey 
 Capilet. 
 
 Sir To. I'll make the motion : stand here, make 
 a good show on't ; this shall end without the per- 
 dition of souls: inarry, I'll ride your horse as well 
 as I ride you. [Aside. 
 
 Re-enter Fabian and Yiula. 
 
 I have his horse [to Fab.] to take up the quarrel ; 
 I have persuaded him, the youth's a devil. 
 
 Fab. He is as horribly conceited 1 of him; and 
 ants, and looks pale, "as if a bear were at his 
 necls. 
 
 Sir To. There's no remedy, sir; he will fight 
 with you for his oath sake : inarry, he hath better 
 bethought him of his quarrel, and he finds that now 
 scarce to be worth talking of: therefore draw, for 
 the supportance of his vow ; he protests, he will not 
 hurt you. 
 
 Vib. Pray God defend me ! A little thing 
 would make me tell them how much I lack of a 
 man. [Aside. 
 
 Fab. Give ground, if you see him furious. 
 
 Sir To. Come, sir Andrew, there's no remedy ; 
 the gentleman will, for his honour's sake, have one 
 bout with you : he cannot bv the duello 2 avoid it : 
 but he has promised me, as lie is a gentleman and 
 a soldier, he will not hurt you. Come on : tot. 
 
 Sir And. Pray God, he keep his oath! [Draws. 
 
 Enter Antonio. 
 
 Via, I do assure you, 'tis against my will. 
 
 [Draws. 
 
 Ant. Put up your sword ; If this young gen- 
 tleman 
 
 Have done offence. I take the fault on me ; 
 If vou offend him, I for him defy you. [Drawing. 
 Sir To. You, sir ? why, what are you ? 
 Ant. One, sir, that for his love dares yet do 
 
 more, 
 Than you have heard him brag to you he will. 
 
 Sir To. Nay, if you be an undertaker, I am for 
 you. [Draws. 
 
 Enter two Officers. 
 
 Fab. O good sir Toby, hold ; here come the 
 officers. 
 
 Sir To. I'll be with you anon. [To Antonio. 
 
 Via. Pray, sir, put up your sword, if you please. 
 [To S'ir Andrew. 
 
 Sir And. Marry, will I, sir ? and, for that I 
 promised you, I'll be as good as my word : He 
 will bear you easily, and reins well. 
 
 1 Off. This is the man ; do thy office. 
 
 2 Off. Antonio, I arrest thee at the suit 
 Of count Orsino. 
 
 Ant. You do mistake me, sir. 
 
 1 Off. No, sir, no jot ; I know your favour well, 
 Though now you have no sea-cap" on your head. 
 Take him away ; he knows, I know him well. 
 
 Ant. I must obey. This comes with seekingyou: 
 But there's no remedy ; I shall answer it. 
 
 What will you do ? Now my necessity 
 Makes me to ask vou for my purse : It grieves me 
 Much more, for what I cannot do for vou, 
 Than what befalls myself. You stano" amaz'd ; 
 But be of comfort. 
 
 2 Off. Come, sir, away. 
 
 Ant. I must entreat of you some of that money. 
 
 Vio. What money, sir ? 
 
 For the fair kindness you have show'd me here, 
 And, part, being prompted by your present trouble. 
 Out of my lean and low abil.ty 
 I'll lend you something : my having is not much ; 
 11 I'll make division of my present with you : 
 Hold, there is half my coffer. 
 
 Ant. Will you deny me now ? 
 
 Is't possible, that my deserts to you 
 Can lack persuasion ? Do not tempt my misery, 
 Lest that it make me so unsound a man, 
 As to upbraid you with those kindnesses 
 That I nave done for you. 
 
 Vio. I know of none ; 
 
 Nor know I jou by voice, or any feature : 
 I hate ingratitude more in a man, 
 Than lying, vainness, babbling, drunkenness, 
 Or ar.y taint of vice, whose strong corruption 
 Inhabits our frail blood. 
 
 Ant. heavens themselves ! 
 
 2 Off. Come, sir, I prav you, go. 
 
 Ant. Let me speak a little. This youth that 
 
 you see here, 
 I snatch'd one half out of the jaws of death ; 
 
 Reliev'd him with such sanctity of love, 
 
 And to his image, which, methought, did promise 
 Most venerable worth, did I devotion. 
 
 1 Off. What's that to us? The time goes by; 
 away. 
 
 Ant. But, O, how vile an idol proves this god ! 
 Thou hast, Sebastian, done good feature shame. 
 In nature there's no blemish, but the mind ; 
 None can be call'd deform'd, but the unkind : 
 Virtue is beauty ; but the beauteous-evil 
 Are eniptv trunks, o'erflourish'd 3 by the devil. 
 
 1 Off. The man grows mad ; away with him. 
 Come, come, sir. 
 
 Ant. Lead me on. [Exe. Officers, tc ith Antonio. 
 
 Vio. Mcthinks, his words do from such passion 
 
 fly. 
 
 That he believes himself; so do not I. 
 Prove true, imagination, prove true, 
 That I, dear brother, be now ta'en for you ! 
 
 Sir To. Come hither, knight: come hither, Fa 
 bian ; we'll whisper o'er a couplet or two of most 
 sajie.saws. 
 
 Vio. He nam'd Sebastian ; I my brother know 
 Yet living in my glass ;* even such and so, 
 In favour was my brother ; and he went 
 Still in this fashion, colour, ornament, 
 For him I imitate : O, if it prove, 
 Tempests are kind, and salt waves fresh in love ! 
 
 [Exit. 
 
 Sir To. A very dishonest paltry boy, and more 
 a coward than a bare : his dishonesty appears, in 
 leaving his friend here in necessity, and denying 
 him ; and for his cowardship. ask Fabian. 
 
 Fab. A coward, a most devout coward, reli- 
 gious in it. 
 
 Sir And. 'Slid, I'll afier him again, and beat him. 
 
 Sir To. Do, cuff him soundly, but never draw 
 thv sword. 
 
 MJ Horrid conception. 
 (5) Ornamented. 
 
 (2) Laws of duel. 
 
 "Sir And. An I do not, 
 
 Fab. Come, let's see the event. 
 
 (4) In the reflection of my own figure. 
 
 [Exit,
 
 TWELFTH-NIGHT ; OR, WHAT YOU WILL; 
 
 Sir To. I dare lay any money, 
 
 ACT IV. 
 
 SCENE LThe street before Olivia's house. 
 Enter Sebastian and Clown. 
 
 'twill be nothing In ^* s u" "^ an d unjust extent* 
 
 [Exeunt. Against thy peace. Go with me to my house ; 
 And hear there how many fruitless pranks 
 This ruffian hath boteh'd up, that thou thereby 
 May'st smile at this : thou shall not choose, but go; 
 Do not deny : beshrew* his soul for me, 
 He started one poor heart of mine in thee. 
 Seb. What relish is in this ? how runs the stream ? 
 
 Clo. Will you make me believe, that I am not 
 sent for you ? 
 
 Seb. Go to, go to, thou art a foolish fellow ; 
 Let me be clear of thee. 
 
 Clo. Well held out, i'faith ! No, I do not know 
 you ; nor I am not sent to you by my lady, to bid 
 vou come speak with her ; nor your name is not 
 master Cesario ; nor this is not my nose neither. 
 Nothing, that is so, is" so. 
 
 lr(.lllll, 111U.L 13 OU, 13 O*J. 
 
 Seb. I pr'ythee, vent 1 thy folly somewhere else ; 
 
 thou know'st not me. Mar. Nay, I pr'ythee, put on this gown, at*' 
 
 Clo. Vent my folly ! he has heard that word of this beard . make h < m believe thou art sir Topj 
 
 some great man, and now applies it to a fool. 
 Vent my folly ! I am afraid this great lubber, the 
 world, will prove a cockney. I pr'ythee now, un- 
 gird thy strangeness, and tell me what I shall vent 
 to my lady ; shall I vent to her, that thou art 
 coming ? 
 
 Seb. I pr'ythee, foolish Greek, depart from me ; 
 There's money for thee ; if you tarry longer, 
 I shall give worse payment. 
 
 Clo. By my troth, thou hast an open hand : 
 These wise men, tiiat give fools money, get them- 
 selves a good report after fourteen years' purchase. 
 
 Enter Sir Andrew, Sir Toby, and Fabian. 
 
 Sir And. Now, sir, have I met you again ? there's 
 for you. [Striking Sebastian. 
 
 Seb. Why, there's for thee. and there, and there : 
 are all the people mad ? [Beating Sir Andrew. 
 
 Sir To. Hold, sir, or I'll throw your dagger o'er 
 the house. 
 
 Clo. Tliis will I tell my lady straight : I would 
 not be in some of your coats for two-pence. 
 
 Sir To. Come on, sir; hold. 
 
 [Exit Clown. 
 [Holding Seb. 
 
 Sir JInd. Nay, let him alone, I'll go another way 
 to work with him ; I'll have an action of battery 
 against him, if there be any law in Illyria: though 
 I struck him first, yet it's no matter for that. 
 Seb. Let go thy hand. 
 
 Sir To. Come, sir, I will not let you go. Come, 
 Biy young soldier, put up your iron : you are well 
 fleshed : come on. 
 Seb. I will be free from thee. What would'st 
 
 thou now ? 
 If thou dar'st tempt me further, draw thy sword. 
 
 [ Draws. 
 
 Sir To. What, what? Nay, then I must have 
 an ounce or two of this malapert blood from you. 
 
 [Draws. 
 Enter Olivia. 
 
 Oli. Hold, Toby : on thy life, I charge thee, hold. 
 
 Sir To. Madam ? 
 
 Oli. Will it be ever thus ? Ungracious wretch, 
 Fit for the mountains, and the barbarous caves, 
 Where manners ne'er were preach'd ! out of my 
 sight ! 
 
 Be not offended, dear Cesario : 
 
 Rudcsbv,* be gone ! I prMhee, gentle friend, 
 
 [Exeunt Sir Toby, Sir Andrew, and Fabian. 
 Let thy fair wisdom, not thy passion, sway 
 
 (1) Let out. (2) Rude fellow. fS) Violence 
 (4) Mode up. (5) 111 betide. . 
 
 Or I am mad, or else this is a dream : 
 Let fancy still my sense in Lethe steep ; 
 If it be thus to dream, still let me sleep ! 
 
 0/i. Nay, come, I pr'ythee : 'would, thou'dst be 
 rul'd by me ! 
 
 Seb. Madam, I will. 
 
 0/i. 0, say so, and so be ! [Ext. 
 
 SCENE II. Jl room in Olivia's house. Enter 
 Maria and Clown. 
 
 the curate ; do it quickly : I'll call sir Toby the, 
 whilst. [Exit \faria. 
 
 Clo. Well, I'll put it on, and I will dissemble* 
 myself in't ; and I would I were the first that ever 
 dissembled in such a gown. I am not fat enough 
 to become the function well ; nor lean enough to 
 be thought a good student; but to be said, an 
 honest man, and a good housekeeper, goes as 
 fairly, as to say, a careful man, and a great scho- 
 lar. The competitors' enter. 
 
 Enter Sir Toby Belch and Maria. 
 
 Sir To. Jove bless thee, master parson. 
 
 Clo. Bonos dies, sir Toby : for as the old hermit 
 of Prague, that never saw pen and ink. very wit- 
 tily said to a niece of king Gorboduc, That, that is, 
 is : so I, being master parson, am master parson ; 
 for what is that, but that ? and is, but is ? 
 
 Sir To. To him, sir Topas. 
 
 Clo. What, hoa, I say, Peace in this prison ! 
 
 Sir To. The knave counterfeits well ; a good 
 knave. 
 
 Mai. [in an inner chamber.] Who calls there ? 
 
 Clo. Sir Topas, the curate, who comes to visit 
 Malvolio the lunatic. 
 
 Mai. Sir Topas, sir Topas, good sir Topas, go 
 to my lady. 
 
 Clo. Out, hyperbolical fiend! how vexest thou 
 this man ? talkest thou nothing but of ladies ? 
 
 Sir To. Well said, master parson. 
 
 Mai. Sir Topas, never was man thus wronged ! 
 good sir Topas, do not think I am mad ; they hare 
 laid me here in hideous darkness. 
 
 Clo. Fie, thou dishonest Sathan ! I call thee by 
 the most modest terms : for I am one of those gen- 
 tle ones, that will use the devil himself with cour- 
 tesy : say'st thou, that house is dark ? 
 
 Mai. As hell, sir Topas. 
 
 Clo. Why, it hath bay-windows,' transparent a> 
 barricadoes, and the clear stones towards the south- 
 norlh are as lustrous as ebony ; and yet complaines I 
 thou of obstruction ? 
 
 Mai. I am not mad, sir Topas ; I say to you, thi* 
 house is dark. 
 
 Clo. Madman, thou errest : I say, there is no 
 darkness, but ignorance : in which thou art more 
 puzzled, than the Egyptians in their fog. 
 
 Mai. I say, this house is as dark as ignorance, 
 though ignorance were as dark as hell ; and I say 
 there was never man thus abused : I am no more 
 
 (6) Disguise. (7) Confederates. 
 
 (8) Bow- windows.
 
 Seen* 111. 
 
 TWELFTH-NIGHT ; OR, WHAT YOU WILL. 
 
 mad than you are ; make the trial of it in any con- Mai. Believe me, I am not ; I tell thee trpe. 
 slant question. 1 Clo. Nay, I'll ne'er believe a madman, till I see 
 
 Clo. What is the opinion of Pythagoras, concern- his brains. I will fetch you light, and paper, and ink. 
 in wild-fowl ? i Mai. Fool, I'll requite it in the highest degree . 
 
 Mai. That the soul of our grandam might haply I pr'ythee, be gone. 
 
 inhabit a bird. Clo. 
 
 Clo. What thinkest thou of his opinion ? 
 
 Mai. I think nobly of the soul, and no way ap- 
 prove his opinion. 
 
 Clo. Fare thee well : remain thou still in dark- 
 ness : thou shall hold the opinion of Pythagoras, 
 ere I will allow of thy wits ; and fear to kill a 
 woodcock, lest thou dispossess the soul of thy 
 grandam. Fare thee well. 
 
 Mai. Sir Topas, sir Topas, 
 
 Sir To. My most exquisite sir Topas ! 
 
 Clo. Nay, I am for all waters. 2 
 
 .Afar. Thou might'st have done this without thy 
 beard and sown; he sees thee not. " | _,.._. , ,. 
 
 Sir To. To him in thine own voice, and bring\ SCE -E III. Olivia's garden. Enter Sebastian 
 me word how thou findest him : I would we were! Seb. This is the air ; that is the glorious sun ; 
 
 / am gone, sir, 
 
 Jlnd anon, sir, 
 m be with you again, 
 
 In a trice ; 
 
 Like to the old vice,' 
 Your need to sustain ; 
 
 Who with dagger of lath. 
 In his rage and his wrath, 
 
 Cries, ah, ha ! to the devil , 
 Like a mad lad, 
 Pare thy nails, dad, 
 
 Mieu, goodman drivel. 
 
 [Exit. 
 
 with any safety this sport to the upshot, Come by j T could not find him at the Elephant : 
 and by to my chamber. [Ere Sir Toby and Mar.; Ye t there he was ; and there I found this credit,* 
 Clo. Hey Robin, jolly Robin ! That he did e the town to seek me out 
 
 Tell me how thy lady does. [Singing. Hi* mnnpl now m ;^M ,lo <rr,M P n rv,v - 
 
 lell me how thy lady 
 Mai. Fool, 
 
 Clo. My lady is unkind, perdij. 
 Mai. Fool, 
 Clo. .lias, why is she so? 
 Mai. Fool, I say; 
 Clo. She loves another Who calls, ha ? 
 
 Mai. Good fool, as ever thou wilt deserve well 
 at my hand, help me to a candle, and pen, and ink, 
 
 Singing. HJJ counsel now might do me golden service : 
 
 For though my soul "disputes well with my sense, 
 That this may be some error, but no madness, 
 Yet doth this accident and flood of fortune, 
 So far exceed all instance, all discourse,* 
 That I am ready to distrust mine eyes, 
 And wrangle with my reason, that persuades me 
 
 To any other trust* but that I am mad, 
 Or else the lady's mad ; yet, if 'twere so, 
 
 . , W *11 1* A m_ I Vl ***^W M*^ O-J w 1_I1U.<_ . T^V. 11 1. 1*1,1 I/ Ol/ 
 
 and paper ; as I am a gentleman, I will live to be| She coukl not J sway her - house comma nd her fol 
 thankful to thee for't. lowers 10 
 
 Clo. Master Malvolio ! 
 
 Mai. ^Ay, good fooj.^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ With'such a smoothj discreet, and stable bearing, 
 
 As, I perceive, she does : there's something in'L 
 
 Clo. Alas, sir, how fell you beside your five wits? 3 
 
 Mai. Fool, there was never man so notoriously 
 abused : I am as well in my wits, fool, as thou art. 
 
 Clo. But as wejl ? then you are mad, indeed, if 
 you be no better in your wits than a fool. 
 
 M'il. They have here propertied me:* keep me 
 in darkness, send ministers to me, asses, and do all 
 thev can to face me out of ray wits. 
 
 Clo. Advise you what you say ; the minister is 
 here. Malvolio, Malvolio, thy wits the heavens 
 
 That is deceivable. But here comes tSe lady. 
 Enfer Olivia and a Priest. 
 
 Oii. Blame not this haste of mine : if you mean 
 
 well, 
 
 Now go with me, and with this holy man, 
 Into the chantry 11 by: there, before him, 
 And underneath that consecrated roof, 
 
 restore ! endsavour thyself to sleep, and leave thy Plight me the full assurance of your faith ; 
 vain bibble babble. * JThat my most jealous and too doubtful soul 
 
 Mai. Sir Topas, 
 
 Clo. Maintain no words with him, good fellow. 
 Who, I, sir ? not I, sir. God b'wi'you, good sir 
 Topas. Marrv, amen. I will, sir, I will. 
 
 Mai. Fool, fool, fool, I say, 
 
 Clo. Alas, sir, be patient. What say you, sir? 
 I am shent. s for speaking to you. 
 
 Mai. Good fool, help me to some light, and some 
 paper ; I telj thee, I am as well in my wits, as any 
 man in Illyria. 
 
 Clo. Well a-clay, that you were, sir ! 
 
 Mai. By this hand, I am : good fool, some ink, 
 papsr, and light, and convey what I will set down 
 
 the bearing of lelter did. 
 
 Clo. I will help you to't. But tell me true, are 
 you not mad, indeed? or do you but counterfeit ? 
 
 (}) Regular conversation. 
 (2) Any other gem as a topaz. 
 (4) Taken possession of. 
 (6) Scolded, reprimanded. 
 
 M 
 
 (3) Senses. 
 
 May live at peace : he shall conceal it, 
 Whiles 12 you are willing it. shall come to note ; 
 What time we will our celebration keep 
 According to my birth. What do you say ? 
 
 Seb. I'll follow this good man, and go with you ; 
 And, having sworn truth, ever will be true. 
 
 OIL Then lead the way, good father; And 
 
 heavens so shine, 
 That they may fairly note this act of mine ! [Exe. 
 
 ACT V. 
 
 7. The street before Olivia's house. 
 Enter Clown and Fabian. 
 
 Fab. Now, as thou lovest me, let me sec his letter. 
 
 (6) A buffoon character in the old plays, and 
 father of the modern harlequin. 
 
 (7) Account. (8) Reason. (9) Belief. 
 (10^ Servants. (11) Little chapel. (12) Until.
 
 90 
 
 TWELFTH-NIGHT ; OR, WHAT YOU WILL. 
 
 MY. 
 
 Clo. Good master Fabian, grant me another re- 
 quest. 
 
 Fab. Any thin<r. 
 
 Clo. Do not desire to see. this letter. 
 
 Fab. That is, to give a do;r, and, in recompense 
 desire my dog again. 
 
 Enter Duke, Viola, and attendants. 
 
 Duke. Belong you to !hc lady Olivia, friends? 
 
 C'o. Ay, sir ; ire are some of her trappings. 
 
 Duke. I know thce well; How dost thou, my 
 good fellow ? 
 
 Clo. Truly, sir, 1he better for my foes, and the 
 wo se for n>y friend?-. 
 
 Duke. Just the contrary; the better for thy 
 friends. 
 
 C!o. No, sir, the worse. 
 
 Duke. How can that be 1 
 
 Clo. Marry, sir, they nraisc me, and make an ass 
 of me ; now my foes tell me plainly I am an ass : so 
 that by my foes, sir, I profit, in the knowledge of 
 myself; and by my friends I am abused: so that, 
 conclusions to bo ns kis?cs, if vour four negatives 
 make your two affirmative?, why, then the worse 
 for my friend?, and the better for my foes. 
 
 Ditkt. Why, this is excellent. 
 
 Clo. By my troth, sir, no ; though it please you 
 to be one of my friends. 
 
 Duke. Thou shall not be the worse for me; 
 there's pold. 
 
 Clo. But that it would bp double-dealing 1 , sir, I 
 would you could make it another. 
 
 Duke. O, you give me ill counsel. 
 
 Clo. Put your grace in yonr pockpt, sir, for tills 
 once, and let voi^r flesh anil blood obey it. 
 
 Duke. Well, I will be so much a sinner to be a 
 double-dealer; there's another. 
 
 Clo. Primo, secwto, terlio, is a {rood ^lay ; and 
 the old saying is, the third pays for all : the triplex, 
 sir, is a good tripping measure ; or the bells of St. 
 Bennet, sir, may put you in mind ; One, two, three. 
 
 Duke. You ran fool no more money out of me 
 at this throw : if von will let your lady know, I am 
 here to speak with her, and brine her along; with 
 you, it may awake my bounty further. 
 
 Clo. Marry, s5-, lullaby to your bounty, till I 
 come acrain. I go, sir ; but I would not have you 
 to think, that my desire of having is the sin of co- 
 Tetousness : but, as you say, sir, let vour bounty 
 take a nap, I will awake it anon. [Exit Clown". 
 
 Enter Antonio and Officers. 
 
 Via. Here comes the man, sir, that did rescue m'e. 
 
 DuJct. That fare of his I do remember well ; 
 Yet when I saw it last, it was be.smpar'd 
 As black as Vulcan, in the smoke of war : 
 A bawbling vessel was he cantain of, 
 For shallow draught, and bulk, unpmable : 
 With which snch'scathful 1 grapple did he make 
 With the most noble bottom of our fleet, 
 That very envy, and the tongue of loss, 
 Cry'd fame and honouron him. What's the matter? 
 
 1 Off. Orsino, this is that Antonio, 
 That took the Phoenix, and her fraught, 2 from 
 
 Candy ; 
 
 And this is he, that did the Tisrer board, 
 When your young nephew Titus lost his leg : 
 Here in the streets, desperate of shame, and state, 
 In private brabble did we apprehend him. 
 
 Via. He did me kindness, sir; drew on my side; -- , -, , , - 
 
 But, in conclusion, put strange speech upon me, | Him will I tear out of that cruel eye, 
 
 (1) Mischievous. (Z) Freight. ' (S) Dull, gross. 
 
 I know not what 'twas, but distraction. 
 
 Dnke. Notable pirate ! thou salt- water thief! 
 What foolish boldness brought thee to their mercies, 
 Whom thou, in terms so bloody, and so dear, 
 Hast made thine enemies 1 
 
 Jlnt. Orsino, noble sir, 
 
 Be pleas'd that I shake off these names you give me, 
 Antonio never yet was thief, or pirate, 
 Though, I confess, on base and ground enough, 
 Orsino's enemy. A witchcraft drew me hither : 
 That most Ung'rateful boy there, by your side, 
 From the rude sea's enrag'd and foamy momh 
 Did I redeem ; a wreck past hope he was : 
 His life I gave him, and did thereto add 
 Mv love, without retention, or restraint, 
 All his in dedication : for his sake, 
 Did I expose myself, pure for his love, 
 Into the danger of this adverse town ; 
 Drew to defend him, vhcn he was beset ; 
 Where being apprehended, his false cunning 
 (Not meaning- to partake with me in danger,) 
 Taught him to face me out of his acquaintance, 
 And grew a twenty-years-removed thing, 
 While one would wink ; denied me mine own 
 
 purse, 
 
 Which I had recommended to his use 
 Not half an hour before. 
 Via. How can this be 1 
 
 Duke. When came he to this town 1 
 Jlnt. To-day, my lord ; and for three months 
 
 before 
 
 (No interim, not a minute's vacancy,) 
 Both day and night did we keep company. 
 
 Enter Olivia and attendants. 
 
 Duke. Here comes the countess ; now heaven 
 
 walks on earth. 
 
 But for thee, fellow, fellow, thy words are madness : 
 Three months this youth hath' tended upon me ; 
 
 But more of that anon. Take him aside. 
 
 OIL What would my lord, but that he may not 
 
 have, 
 
 Wherein Olivia may seem serviceable 1 
 Cesario, you do not keep promise with me. 
 
 t.^aiiv. T vw viv 
 
 Vio. Madam? 
 
 Dlike. Gtracious Olivia, 
 
 Oli, What do you say, Cesario? 
 lord, 
 
 -Good my 
 
 Vio. My lord would speak, my duty hushes me, 
 
 Oli. If it be aught to the old tune, my lord, 
 It is as fat 3 and fulsome to mine ear, 
 As howling after music. 
 
 Duke. Still so cruel 1 
 
 Oli. Still so constant, lord. 
 
 Duke. What ! to perverseness 1 you uncivil lady, 
 To whose ingrate and unauspicious altars 
 My soul the faithfull'st offerings hath breath'd out. 
 That e'er devotion tender'd ! What shall I do 1 
 
 Oli. Even what it please my lord, that shall be- 
 come him. 
 
 Duke. Why should I not, had I the heart to do it. 
 Like to the Egyptian thief, at point of death, 
 Kill what I love ; a savage jealousy, 
 That sometime savours nobly? But hear me this.- 
 Since you to non-regardance cast my faith, 
 And that I partly know the instrument 
 That screws me from my true place in your favour, 
 Live you, the marble-breasted tyrant, still ; 
 But this your minion, whom, I know, you love, 
 And whom, by heaven, I swear, I tender dearly.
 
 Stene I. 
 
 TWELFTH NIGHT ; OR, WHAT YOU WILL. 
 
 Where he sits crowned in his master's spite. 
 Come boy, with me ; my thoughts are ripe in mis- 
 
 chief: 
 
 I'll sacrifice the lamb that I do love, 
 To spite a raven's heart within a dove. 
 
 Sir Jlnd. Od's lifelines, here he is : You broke 
 my head for nothing; and that that I did, I wa 
 
 Via. And I, most jocund, apt, and willingly, 
 To do you rest, a thousand deaths would die. 
 
 set on to do't by sir Toby. 
 I Via. Why do you speak to me? I never hurt you: 
 [Going. i You drew your sword upon me, without cause ; 
 
 Oli. Where goes Cesario ? 
 
 Via. After him I love, 
 
 More than I love these eyes, more than my life, 
 More, by all mores, than e'er I shall love wife : 
 If 1 do feign, you witnesses above, 
 Punish my life, for tainting of my love! 
 
 Oli. Ah, me, detested ! how am I beajuil'd ! 
 
 Kic. Who does beguile you ? who does do you 
 wrong ? 
 
 O'-i. Hast thou forgot thyself ? Is it so lone? 
 Call forth the holy father. [Exit an dlleridant. 
 
 Dukt. Come awav. 
 
 [To Viola. 
 
 O'l. Whither, mv lord ? Cesario, husband, stay. 
 
 But I bespake you fair, and hurt you not. 
 
 Sir Jlnd. If a bloody coxcomo be a hurt, you 
 [Following. |have hurt me ; I think, you set nothing by a bloody 
 Icoxcomb. 
 
 Duke. Husband? 
 
 0/i. 
 
 Ay, husband ; Can he that deny ? 
 
 Duke. Her husband, sirrah ? 
 
 Via. 
 
 No. mv lord, not I. 
 
 ' K. * 
 
 Oli. Alas, it is the baseness of thy lear, 
 That makes thee strangle thy propriety : 
 Fear not, Cesario, take thy fortunes up ; 
 Be that thou know'st thou art, and then thou art 
 As great as that thou fear'st. O, welcome, father ! 
 
 Re-enter Attendant and Priest. 
 Father, I charge thee, by thv reverence. 
 Here to unfold" (though latefy we intended 
 To keep in darkness, what occasion now 
 Reveals before 'tis ripe,) what thou dost know, 
 Hath newly past between this vouth an- 1 , me. 
 
 Priest. A contract of eternal bond of love, 
 Confirmed by mutual ioir.der of your hands, 
 Attested by the holy close of lips', 
 Strengthen'd by interchaneement of your rings ; 
 And all the ceremony of this comp&ct 
 Seal'd in my function, by my testimony : 
 Since when, my watch hath told me," toward my 
 
 grave, 
 I have travelled but two hours. 
 
 Enter Sir Toby Belch, drunk, led by the Clown. 
 
 Here comes sir Toby halting, you shall hear n:ore : 
 but if he had not been in drink, he would have 
 tickled you othergates' 1 than he did. 
 
 Ditke. How now, gentleman? how is't with you ? 
 
 Sir To. That's ail one ; he has hurt me, and 
 there's the end on't. Sot, did'st see Dick surgeon, 
 sot? 
 
 Clo. O he's drunk, sir Toby, an hour agone ; 
 his eyes were set at eight i' the morning. 
 
 Sir To. Then he's a rogue. After a passy-mea- 
 sure. or ( i pavin, 4 I hate a drunken rogue. 
 
 Oli. Away with him : who hath made this havoc 
 with them ? 
 
 Sir Jin d. I'll help you, sir Toby, because we'll 
 be dressed together. 
 
 S>> To. Will you help, an ass-head, and a cox- 
 comb, and a knave? a thin-faced knave, a gull? 
 
 Oli. Get him to bed, and let his hurt be look'd to. 
 [Exeunt Clown, Sir Toby, and Sir Andrew. 
 
 Enter Sebastian. 
 
 Seb. I am sorry, madam, I Lave hurt your kins- 
 
 man; 
 
 But, had it been the brother of my blood, 
 I must have done no less, with wit, and safety. 
 You throw a strange regard upon me, and 
 By that Tdo perceive it hath offended you ; 
 Pardon me, sweet one, even for the vows 
 We made each other but so late ago. 
 
 Duke. One face, one voice, one habit, and two 
 
 persons ? 
 A natural perspective, that i", and is not. 
 
 Seb. Antonio, my dear Antonio ! 
 How have the hours rack'd and tortur'd me, 
 
 n , ~ .. ! Since I have lost thee. 
 
 Duke 0, thou dissembling cub! what wilt thou be, .?,. Sebastian are vou ? 
 
 time hath sew'd a grizzle on thy case ?> Se & . "Fear'st thou that, Antonio ? 
 
 Int. How have you made division of yourself? 
 [An apple, cleft in two, is not more twin 
 Than these two creatures. Which is Sebastian? 
 OH. Most wonderful ! 
 Seb. Do I stand there ? I never had a brother : 
 
 . grizzle on thy 
 
 Or will not else thy craft so quickly grow, 
 That thine own trip shall be thine overthrow ? 
 Farewell, and take her ; but direct thy feet, 
 Where thou and I henceforth may never meet 
 
 Via. My lord, I do protest, 
 
 0/t. O, do not swear 
 
 Hold little faith, though thou hast too much fear. 
 
 Nor can there be that deity in my nature, 
 Of here and every where. I had a sister, 
 
 Enter Sir Andrew Aeue-cheek, with his head ! Whom the blind waves and surges have devour'd: 
 broki. Of charity,* what km are you to me? [To Viola, 
 
 'What countryman? what name? what parentage? 
 Sir Jlnd. For the love of God, a surgeon ; send! Via. Of Messaline, : Sebastian was mv father : 
 
 ene presently to sir Toby. 
 Oli. What's the matter ? 
 Sir Jlnd. He has broke my head across, and has 
 
 f iven sir Toby a bloody coxcomb too : for the love You come to fright us. 
 
 of God, your help : I had rather than forty pound, 
 I were at. home. 
 
 OIL Who has done this, sir Andrew? 
 
 Sir Jlnd. The count's gentleman, one Cesario: 
 we took him for a coward, but he's the very devil 
 Uicardinate. 
 
 Duke. My gentleman, Cesario ? 
 
 M> Disown thy property. (2) Skin. 
 (5) Otberwiys. (4) Serious dancers. 
 
 Such a Sebastian was my brother too, 
 So went he suited to his "watery tomb : 
 If spirits can assume both form and suit, 
 
 Seb. A spirit I am indeed ; 
 
 But am in that dimension grossly clad, 
 Which from the womb I did participate. 
 Were you a woman, as the rest goes even, 
 I should mv tears let fall upon your cheek, 
 And say Thrice welcome, drowned Viola ! 
 
 Vio. My father had a mole upon his brow. 
 
 Seb. And so had mine. 
 
 () Out of charitj tell me.
 
 TWELFTH NIGHT ; OR, WHAT YOU WILL. 
 
 Vie. And died that day when Viola from her birth 
 Had number'd thirteen years. 
 
 Seb. O, that record is lively in my soul ! 
 He finished, indeed, his mortal act, 
 That day that made my sister thirteen years. 
 
 Vio. If nothing lets' to make us happy both, 
 But this my masculine usurp'd attire, 
 Do not embrace me, till each circumstance 
 Of place, time, fortune, do cohere, and jump, 
 That I am Viola : which to confirm, 
 I'll bring you to a captain in this town, 
 Where he my maiden weeds ; by whose gentle help, 
 I was preserv'd, to serve this noble count : 
 AH the occurrence of my fortune since 
 Hath been between this lady, and this lord. 
 
 Seb. So comes it, lady, you have been mistook: 
 
 [To Olivia. 
 
 But nature to her bias drew in that. 
 YOU would have been contracted to a maid ; 
 Nor are you therein, by my life, deceiv'd; 
 You are betroth'd both to a maid and man. 
 
 Duke. Be not amaz'd ; right noble is his blood. 
 If this be so, as yet the glass seems true, 
 I shall have share in this most happy wreck : 
 Boy, thou hast said to me a thousand times, 
 
 [To Viola. 
 Thou never should'st love woman like to me. 
 
 Vio. And all those sayings will I over-swear ; 
 And all those swearings" keep as true in soul, 
 As doth that orbed continent the lire 
 That severs day from night. 
 
 Duke. Give me thy hand ; 
 
 And let me see thee in thy woman's weeds. 
 
 Vio. The captain, that aid bring me first on shore, 
 Hath my maia's garments : he, upon some action, 
 Is now in durance : at Malvolio's suit, 
 A gentleman, and follower of my lady's. 
 
 OH. He shall enlarge him: Fetch Malvolio 
 
 hither : 
 
 And yet, alas, now I remember me, 
 They say, poor gentleman, he's much distract, 
 
 Re-enter Clown, with a letter. 
 
 A most extracting frenzy of mine own 
 From my remembrance clearly banish'd his. 
 How does he, sirrah ? 
 
 Clo. Truly, madam, he holds Belzebub at the 
 stave's end, as well as a man in his case may do : 
 he has here writ a letter to you; I should have 
 given it to you to-day morning ; but as a madman's 
 epistles are no gospels, so it skills not much, when 
 they are delivered. 
 
 ()li. Open it, and read it. 
 
 Clo. Look then to be well edified, when the fool 
 delivers the madman: By the Lord, madam, 
 
 OH. How now ! art thou mad ? 
 
 Clo. No, madam, I do but read madness : an 
 your ladyship will have it as it ought to be, you 
 must allow tiox. 4 
 
 OH. Pr'ythee, read P thy right wits. 
 
 Clo. So I do, madonna ; but to read his right 
 wits, is to read thus : therefore perpend, 3 my prin- 
 cess, and give ear. 
 
 Oli. Read it you, sirrah. [To Fabian. 
 
 Fab. [reads.] By the Lord, madam, you wrong 
 nte, and the world shall know it : though you have 
 put me into darkness, and given your drunken 
 cousin rule over me, yet have I the benefit of my 
 senses as well as your ladyship. I have your own 
 letter that induced me to the semblance I put on ; 
 
 (1) Hinders, (2) Voice. 
 (4) Frame and constitution. 
 
 (S) Attend. 
 (5) Inferior. 
 
 with the which I doubt not out to fa myself mwh 
 right, or you much shame. Think of me as you 
 please. I leave my duty a little unthought of, and 
 speak out of my injury. 
 
 The madly-used Malvolio. 
 
 Oli. Did he write this ? 
 
 Clo. Ay, madam. 
 
 Duke. This savours not much of distraction. 
 
 Oli. See him deliver'd, Fabian ; brintr him hither. 
 
 [Exit Fabian. 
 
 My lord, so please you, these things further thought 
 
 on, 
 
 To think me as well a sister as a wife, 
 One day shall crown the alliance on't, so please you, 
 Here at my house, and at rny proper cost. 
 
 Duke. Madam, I am most apt to embrace your 
 
 offer. 
 Your master quits you ; [To Viola.] and, for your 
 
 service done him, 
 
 So much against the mettle 4 of your sex, 
 So far beneath your soft and tender breeding, 
 And since you call'd me master for so long, 
 Here is my hand ; you shall from this time be 
 Your master's mistress. 
 
 OIL A sister ? you arc she. 
 
 Re-enter Fabian, with Malvolio. 
 
 Duke. Is this the madman ? 
 
 Oli. Ay, my lord, this same : 
 
 How now, Malvolio ? 
 
 J\Ial. Madam, you have done me wrong, 
 
 Notorious wrong. 
 
 Oli. Have I, Malvolio ? no. 
 
 JlTo/. Lady, you have. Pray you, peruse that 
 
 letter: 
 
 You must not now deny it is vour hand. 
 Write from it, if you can, in hand, or phrase ; 
 Or say, 'tis not your seal, nor your invention : 
 You can say none of this : Well, grant it then, 
 And tell me, in the modesty of honour, 
 Why you have given me such clear lights of favour ; 
 Bade me come smiling, and cross-garter'd to you, 
 To put on yellow stockings, and to frown 
 Upon sir Toby, and the lighter* people : 
 And, acting this in an obedient hope, 
 Why have you suffer'd me to be imprison'd, 
 Kept in a dark house, visited by the priest, 
 And made the most notorious geek, 6 and gull, 
 That e'er invention play'd on ? tell me why. 
 
 Oli. Alas, Malvolio, this is not my writing, 
 Though, I confess, much like the character: 
 But, out of question, 'tis Maria's hand. 
 And now I do bethink me, it was she 
 First told me, thou wast mad; then cam'st in smiling, 
 And in such forms which here were presuppos'd 
 Upon thee in the letter. Pr'ythee be content : 
 This practice hath most shrewdly pass'd upon thee ; 
 But, when we know the grounds and authors of it, 
 Thou shalt be both the plaintiff and the judge 
 Of thine own cause. 
 
 Fab. Good madam, hear me apeak ; 
 
 And let no quarrel, nor no brawl to come, 
 Taint the condition of this present hour, 
 Which I have wonder'd at. In hope it shalt not, 
 Most, freely I confess, mvself, and Toby, 
 Set this device against Malvolio here, 
 Upon some stubborn and uncourteous parts 
 We had conceiy'd against him: Maria writ 
 The letter, at sir Toby's great importance ; T 
 In recompence whereof, he hath married her. 
 How with a sportful malice it was follow'd, 
 
 (6) Fool. (7) Importunacy.
 
 Seme 1. 
 
 TWELFTH NIGHT ; OR, WHAT YOU WILL. 
 
 93 
 
 May rather pluck on laughter than revenge ; 
 If that the injuries be justly weigh'd, 
 That have on both sides past. 
 
 Oli. Alas, poor fool ! how have they baffled 1 thee ! 
 
 Clo. Why, some are born great, some achieve 
 greatness, and some have greatness throicn upon 
 them. I was one, sir. in this interlude : one sir fo- 
 pas, sir ; but that's 8,11 one : By the Lord, fool, 1 
 am not mad; But do you "iememUer ? Madam, 
 why laugh, you at such a barren rascal ? an you 
 smile not, he's gagged : And thus the whirligig of 
 time brin?s in his revenges. 
 
 Jdal. I'll be revenged on the whole pack of you. 
 
 [Exit. 
 
 OH. He hath been most notoriously abus'd. 
 
 Duke. Pursue him, and entreat him to peace: 
 He hath not told us of the captain yet ; 
 When that is known, and golden time convents, 1 
 A solemn combination shall be made 
 Of our dear souls Meantime, sweet sister, 
 We will not part from hence. Cesario, coine ; 
 For so you shall be, while y</a are a man ; 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 Butj when in other habits you are seen, 
 Orsmo's mistress, and his fancy's queen. 
 
 SONG. 
 
 Clo. When that I was and a little tiny boy, 
 
 With hey, ho, the wind and the rain, 
 Jl foolish thing was but a toy, 
 For the rain it raineth every day. 
 
 (1) Cheated. (2) Shall serve. 
 
 But when 1 came to man's estate, 
 With hey, ho, the loind and the rain, 
 
 'Gainst knave and thief men shut their gate, 
 For the rain it raineth every day. 
 
 But when I came, alas ! to wive, 
 With hey, ho, the wind and the rain, 
 
 By swaggering could I never thrive, 
 For the rain it raineth every day. 
 
 But when I came unto my bed, 
 
 With hey, ho, the wind and the rain. 
 
 With toss-pots still had drunken head, 
 For the rain U raineth every day. 
 
 A great ivhile ago the world begun, 
 With hey, ho, the wind and the rain, 
 
 But that's all one, our play is done, 
 Jlnd we'll strive to please you every day. 
 
 [Exit. 
 
 This play is in the graver part elegant and easy, 
 and in some of the lighter scenes exquisitely humo- 
 rous. Ague-cheek w drawn with great propriety, 
 but his character is, in a great measure, that of 
 natural fatuity, and is therefore not the proper prey 
 of a satirist. The soliloquy of Malvolio is truly 
 comic ; he is betrayed to ridicule merely by hia 
 pride. The marriage of Olivia, and the succeed- 
 ing perplexity, though well enough contrived to 
 divert on the stage, wants credibility, and fails to 
 produce the proper instruction required in the dra 
 ma, as it exhibits no just picture of life. 
 
 JOHNSON.
 
 MEASURE FOR MEASURE, 
 
 PERSONS REPRESENTED. 
 
 Vincentio, dukt of Vienna. 
 
 Angelo, lord deputy in the duke's absence. 
 
 Escalus, an ancient lord, joined with .ingelo in 
 
 tht deputation. 
 
 Claudia, a young gentleman. 
 Lucio, a fantastic. 
 Two other like gentlemen. 
 Varrius, a. gentleman, servant to the duke. 
 Provost. 
 
 i Justice. 
 
 Elbow, a simple cor stable. 
 
 Froth, a foolish gentleman. 
 
 Cleicn, sen-ant to Mrs. Over-dont. 
 Abhorson, an executioner. 
 Barnardine, o dissolute prisoner. 
 
 Isabella, sister (o Claudia. 
 Mariana, betrothed to Jlngelo. 
 Juliet, beloved by Claudia. 
 Francisca. a nun. 
 Mistress Over-done, o bawd. 
 
 Lords, gentlemen, guards, officers, and ether at* 
 tendants. 
 
 Scene, Vienna. 
 
 ACT I. 
 
 SCENE /. .fa apartment in the Duke's palace. 
 Enter Duke, Escalus, Lords, and attendants. 
 
 E 
 
 Duke. 
 
 _SCALUS, 
 
 Escai. My lord. 
 
 Duke. Of government the properties to unfold, 
 Would seem in me to affect speech and discourse ; 
 Since I am put to know that your own science, 
 Exceeds, in that, the lists' of all advice 
 My strength can give you : then no more remains 
 But that to your sufficiency, as your worth is able, 
 And let them work. The nature of our people, 
 Our city's institutions, and the terms 
 For common justice, you are as pregnant* in, 
 As art and practice hath enriched any 
 That we remember : there is our commission, 
 From which we would not have you warp. Call 
 
 hither, 
 I say, bid come before us Angelo. 
 
 [Exit an attendant. 
 
 What figure of us think you he will bear ? 
 For you must know, we have with special soul 
 Elected him our absence to supply ; 
 Lent him our terror, drest him with our love ; 
 And given his deputation all the organs 
 Of our own power : what think you of it? 
 
 Escal. If any in Vienna be of worth 
 To undergo such ample grace and honour, 
 It is lord Angela. 
 
 Enter Angelo. 
 
 Duke. Look, where he comes. 
 
 ting. Always obedient to your grace's will, 
 I come to know your pleasure. 
 
 Duke. Angelo, 
 
 There is a kind of character in thy life, 
 That, to the observer, doth thy history 
 Fully unfold: thyself and thy belonirihsrs* 
 Are not thine own so proper, 4 as to waste 
 
 (1) Bounds. (2) Full of. (3) Endowments. 
 (4} So much thy own property. 
 
 Thyself upon thy virtues, them on thee. 
 
 Heaven doth with us, as we with torches do; 
 
 Not light them for themselves : for if our virtues 
 
 Did not go forth of us, 'twere all alike 
 
 As if we had them not Spirits are not finely touch'd, 
 
 But to fine issues :* nor nature never lends 
 
 The smallest scruple of her excellence r 
 
 But, like a thrifty goddess, she determines 
 
 Herself the glory of a creditor, 
 
 Both thanks anu use.* But I do bend my speech 
 
 To one that can my part in him advertise ; 
 
 Hold therefore, Angelo ; 
 
 In our remove, be thou at full ourself ; 
 
 Mortality and mercy in Vienna 
 
 Live in thy tongue and heart : Old Escalus, 
 
 Though first in (question, is thy secondary 
 
 Take thy commission. 
 
 .ini*. Now, good my lord, 
 
 Let there be some more test made of my metal, 
 Before so noble and so great a figure 
 Be stamp'd upon it. 
 
 Duke. No more evasion : 
 
 We have with a leaven'd and prepared choice 
 Proceeded to you ; therefore take your honours. 
 Our haste from hence is of so quick condition, 
 That it prefers itself, and leaves unquestion'd 
 Matters of needful value. We shall write to you. 
 As time and our concerning shall imp6rtune, 
 How it goes with us ; and do look to know 
 What doth befall you here. So, fare you well : 
 To the hopeful execution do I leave you 
 Of your commissions. 
 
 Jlng. Yet, give leave, my lord, 
 
 That we mnybrinsr you something- on the way. 
 
 Duke. My haste may not admit it ; 
 INor need you, on mine honour, have lo do 
 | With any scruple : your scope' is as mine own ; 
 So to enforce, or qualify the laws, 
 : As to your, soul scorns good. Give me your hand ; 
 il'll privily*away : I love the people, 
 But do not like to stage me to their eyes : 
 Though it do well, I do not relish well 4 
 Their loud applause, and aves* vehement ; 
 
 For high purposes. 
 Extent of power. 
 
 (6) Interest. 
 (8) Hailiiigs,
 
 MEASURE FOR MEASURE. 
 Act IV, Scene 2. 
 
 MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHIXG. 
 
 Act V. Xctnr. 2.
 

 
 Stint II. 
 
 MEASURE FOR MEASURE. 
 
 ness. 
 Duke. I thank you : fare you well. 
 
 Nor do I think the man of safe discretion, 
 That does affect it. Once more, fare you well. 
 
 Jlng. The heavens give safety to your purposes ! 
 
 Escal. Lead forth, and bring you back in nappi- 
 
 [Exit. 
 
 Escal. I shall desire you, sir, to give me leave 
 To have free speech with vou ; and it concerns me 
 To look into the bottom of my place : 
 A power I have ; but of what strength and nature 
 I am not yet instructed. 
 
 -ing;. 'Tis so with me: Let us withdraw to- 
 gether, ^ 
 And we may soon our satisfaction have 
 Touching that point. 
 
 Escal. I'll wait upon your honour. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 SCE.YE //. ? street. Enter Lucio and two 
 Gentlemen. 
 
 Lucic. If the duke, with the other dukes, come 
 not to composition with the king of Hungary, why, 
 then all the dukes fall upon the king. 
 
 1 Gent. Heaven grant us its peace, but not the 
 king of Hungary's! 
 
 2 Gent. Amen. 
 
 L:icio. Thou concludes! like the sanctimonious 
 pirate, that went to sea with the ten command- 
 ments, but scraped one out of the table. 
 
 -2 Gail. Thou shall not steal ? 
 
 Lucia. Ay, that he razed. 
 
 1 Gent. Why, 'twas a commandment to com- 
 mand the captain and all the rest from their func- 
 tions ; they put forth to steal : there's not a soldier 
 
 Lucio. A French crown* more. 
 
 1 Gent. Thou art alway* figuring diseases ic 
 me : but thou art full of error ; I am sound. 
 
 Lucio. Nay, not as one would say, healthy , 
 but so sound, as things that are hollow : thy bonea 
 are hollow ; impiety nas made a feast of thee. 
 
 Enttr Bawd. 
 
 1 Gent. How now ? Which of your hips has the 
 most profound sciatica ? 
 
 Bawd. Well, well ; there's one vonder arrested, 
 and carried to prison, was worth five thousand of 
 you all. 
 
 1 Gent. Who's that, I pray thee ? 
 
 Bawd. Marry,sir,that's Claudip, signior Claudio. 
 
 1 Gent. Claudio to prison ! 'tis not so. 
 
 Bawd. Nay, but I know, 'tis so : I saw him ar- 
 rested ; saw" him carried away ; and, which is 
 more, within these three days "his head's to bo 
 chopped off. 
 
 Lucio. But, after all this fooling, I would not 
 have it so : art thou sure of this ? 
 
 Bawd. I am too sure of it: and it is for getting 
 madam Julietta with child. 
 
 Lucio. Believe me, this may be: he promised 
 to meet me two hours since ; and he was ever pre- 
 cise in promise-keeping. 
 
 2 Gent. Besides you know, it draws something 
 near to the speech we had to such a purpose. 
 
 1 Gent. But most of all, agreeing with the pro- 
 clamation. 
 Lucio. Away ; let's go learn the truth of it. 
 
 [Exeunt Lucio and Gentlemen. 
 Bawd. Thus, what with the war, what with the 
 
 , \hat, in the thanksgiving before meat, I swea t ; what with the gallows, and what with 
 doth relish the petition well that prays for peace. poverty, I am custom-shrunk. How now ? what'i 
 
 :i Gent. I never heard any soldier dislike it. 
 
 Lucio. I believe thee j for, I think, thou never 
 wast where grace was said. 
 
 2 Gent. No ? a dozen times at least. 
 
 1 Gent. What ? in metre ? 
 
 Lucio. In any proportion, 1 or in any language. 
 
 1 Gent. I think', or in anv religion. 
 
 Lufia. Ay ! why not ? Grace"is grace, despite 
 of all controversy : as for example ; thou thyself 
 art a wicked villain, despite of all grace. 
 
 1 Gent. Well, there went but a pair of sheers 
 between us. 5 
 
 Lucio. I grant ; as there may between the lists 
 and the velvet : thou art the list. 
 
 1 Gent. And thou the velvet: thou art good 
 velvet ; thou art a three-pil'd piece, I warrant thee: 
 I had as lief be a list of an English kersey, as be 
 
 the news with you ? 
 
 pil'd, as thou art pil'd, for a French velvet. 1 
 I sneak feelinsrly now ? 
 
 Do 
 
 Enter Clown. 
 
 Clo. Yonder man is carried to prison. 
 
 Bawd. Well ; wiiat has he done ? 
 
 Clo. A woman. 
 
 Bawd. But what's his offence ? 
 
 Clo. Groping for trouts in a peculiar liver. 
 
 Bawd. What, is there a maid with child by him ? 
 
 Clo. No ; but there's a woman with maid by himr 
 you have not heard of the proclamation, have you ? 
 
 Bawd. What proclamation, man ? 
 
 Clo. All houses in the suburbs of Vienna must 
 be pluck'd down. 
 
 Bawd. And what shall become of those in the 
 city ? 
 
 Clo. They shall stand for seed : they had rone 
 down too, but that a wise burgher put in for them. 
 
 Bawd. But shaX all our houses of resort in the 
 
 Lucio. I think thou dost ; and, indeed, with 
 
 most painful feelin? of thy speech : I will, out of i suburbs be pull'd down ? 
 thine own confession, learn to besrin thy health;! Clo. To tha ground, mistress. 
 
 but, whilst I live, forget to drink after thee. 
 
 1 Gent. I think I have done myself wrong : 
 have I not ? 
 
 Bawd. Why, here's a change, indeed, in the 
 commonwealth ! What shall become of me ? 
 
 C'a. Come ; fear not you : gocd counsellors lark 
 
 .2 Gent. Yes, that thou hast; whether thou art! no clients: though you change your place, you nerd 
 tainted, or free. |not change your trade ; I'll be your tapster siill. 
 
 LHCZO. Behold, behold, where madam Mitiga-j Courage; there will be pity taken on you: you thai 
 tion comes ! I have purchased as many diseases ' have worn your eyes almost out in the service, you 
 under hor roof, as come to i will be considered. 
 
 2 Gent. To what, I pray ? . B:wd. What's to do here, Thomas Tipster? let's 
 
 1 Gent. Judtre. withdraw, 
 
 2 Gtnt. To three thousand dollars a year. Clo. Here comes signior Claudio, led by the pro- 
 1 Gent. Ay, and more. 'vost to prison: and there's madam Juliet. \Exe. 
 
 H) Measure. (2) A cut of the same cloth. 
 
 (3) A jest ou the loss of hair by the French disease. ! 
 
 (4) Corona Ventris. 
 
 sweating sickness.
 
 MEASURE FOR MEASURE. 
 
 96 
 
 SCENE III. The seme. Enter Provost, 1 Clau- 
 dio, Juliet, and Officers ; Lucio, and two Gen- 
 tlemen. 
 
 Bear me to prison, where I am committed. 
 
 Prov. I do it not in evil disposition, 
 But from lord Angelo by special charge. 
 
 Claud. Thus can the demi-god, Authority, 
 Make us pay down for our offence by weight. 
 The words of heaven ; on whom it will, it will ; 
 On whom it will not, so ; yet still 'tis just. 
 
 LHCI'O. Why, how now, "Claudio? whence comes 
 this restraint / 
 
 Claud. From too much liberty, my Lucio, liberty : 
 As surfeit is the father of much fast, 
 So every scope by the immoderate use 
 Turns to restraint : our natures do pursue 
 (Like rats that ravin 2 down their proper bane,) 
 A thirsty evil ; and when we drink, we die. 
 
 Lucio. If I could speak so wisely under an arrest, 
 I would send for certain of my creditors : and yet, 
 to say the truth, I had as lief have the foppery of 
 freedom, as the morality of imprisonment. What's 
 thy offence, Claudio ? 
 
 Claud. What, but to speak of would offend again. 
 . Lacio. What is it ? murder ? 
 
 Claud. No. 
 
 Lucio. Lechery? 
 
 Claud. Call it so. 
 
 Prov. Away, sir : you must go. 
 
 Claud. One word, good friend : Lucio, a word 
 with you. [Takes him aside. 
 
 Lucio. A hundred, if they'll do you any good. 
 l lechery so look'd after ? 
 
 Claud. Thus stands it with me : Upon a true 
 
 contract, 
 
 I got possession of Julietta's bed ; 
 You know the lady ; she is fast my wife, 
 Save that we do the denunciation lack 
 Of outward order : this we came not to, 
 Only for propagation of a dower 
 Remaining in the coffer of her friends ; 
 From whom we thought it meet to hide our love, 
 Till time had made them for us. But it chances, 
 The stealth of our most mutual entertainment, 
 With character top gross, is writ on Juliet. 
 
 Lucio. With child, perhaps ? 
 
 Claud. Unhappily, even so. 
 And the new deputy now for the duke, 
 Whether it be the fault and glimpse of newness ; 
 Or whether that the body public be 
 A horse whereon the governor doth ride, 
 Who, newly in the seat, that it may know 
 He can command, lets it straight feel the spur : 
 Whether the tyranny be in his place, 
 Or in his eminence that fills it up, 
 I stagger in : But this new governor 
 Awakes me all the enrolled penalties, 
 Which have, like unscour'd armour, hung by the 
 
 wall 
 
 So long, that nineteen zodiacs' have gone round, 
 And none of them been worn ; and, for a name, 
 Now puts the drowsy and neglected act 
 Freshly on me : 'tis surely for a name. 
 
 Lucio. I warrant it is : and thy head stands so 
 tickle* on thy shoulders, that a milk-maid, if she 
 be in love, may sigh it off. Send after the duke, 
 and appeal to him. 
 
 (1) Gaoler. (2) Voraciously devour. 
 
 (3j Yearly circles. (4) Ticklish. 
 
 (5) Enter on. her probation, (6) Prompt. 
 
 Claud. I have done so, but he's not to be found* 
 I pr'ythee, Lucio, do me this kind service : 
 This day my sister should the cloister enter, 
 And there receive her approbation :* 
 Acquaint her with the danger of my state ; 
 Implore her, in my voice, that she make friend* 
 To the strict deputy ; bid herself assay him ; 
 I have great hope in that : for in her youth. 
 There is a prone' and speechless dialect, 
 Such as moves men ; besides, she hath prosperoui 
 
 art 
 When she will play with reason and discourse. 
 
 Lucio. I pray she may: as well for the encourage- 
 ment of the like, which else would stand under 
 grievous imposition ; as for the enjoying of thy life, 
 who I would be sorry should be thus foolishly lost 
 at a game of tick-tacK. I'll to her. 
 
 Claud. I thank you, good friend Lucio. 
 
 Lucio. Within two hours, 
 
 Claud. Come, officer, away. [Exeunt. 
 
 SCJEJV.E IV. Jl monastery. Enter Duk and 
 Friar Thomas. 
 
 Duke. No ; holy father ; throw away that thought; 
 Believe not that the dribbling dart of love 
 Can pierce a c6mplete bosom :' why I desire thee 
 To give me secret harbour, hath a purpose 
 More grave and wrinkled than the aims and end 
 Of burning youth. 
 
 Fri. May your grace speak of it T 
 
 Duke. My holy sir, none better knows than you 
 How I have ever loy'd the life remov'd ;' 
 And held in idle price to haunt assemblies, 
 Where youth, and cost, and witless bravery keeps.* 
 I have delivered to lord Angelo 
 (A man of stricture, 10 and firm abstinence,) 
 My absolute power and place here in Vienna, 
 And he supposes me trayell'd to Poland ; 
 For so I have strew'd it in the common ear, 
 And so it is receiv'd : now, pious sir, 
 You will demand of me, why I do this ? 
 
 Fri. Gladly, my lord. 
 
 Duke. We' have strict statutes, and most biting 
 
 . laws 
 
 (The needful bits and curbs for headstrong steeds,) 
 Which for these fourteen years we have let sleep ; 
 Even like an over-grown lion in a cave, 
 That goes not out to prey : now, as fond fathers 
 Having bound up the threat'ning twigs of birch, 
 Only to stick it in their children's sight, 
 For terror, not to use ; in time the rod 
 Becomes more mock'd, than fear'd : so our decreei. 
 Dead to infliction, to themselves are dead : 
 And liberty plucks justice by the nose ; 
 The baby beats the nurse, and quite athwart 
 Goes all decorum. 
 
 Fri. It rested in your grace 
 
 To unloose this tied-up justice, when you pleas'd: 
 And it in you more dreadful would have seem'd, 
 Than in lord Angelo. 
 
 ^. Du}ce - I do fear, too dreadful : 
 
 Sith 11 'twas my fault to give the people scope, 
 'Twould be my tvranny to strike, and gall them 
 For what I bid them do : for we bid this be done, 
 When evil deeds have their permissive past, 
 And not the punishment. Therefore, indeed, my 
 
 father, 
 
 I have on Angelo impos'd the office ; 
 Who may, in the ambush of my name, strike home, 
 And yet my nature never in the sight. 
 
 Completely armed. (8) Retired. 
 
 ?) , S J?. ow y ke" r tes. (10) Strictwm 
 11) Since,
 
 MEASURE FOR MEASURE. 
 
 To do it slander : and to behold his sway, 
 
 I will. *s 'twere a brother of your order. 
 
 Visit both prince and people : therefore, I pr'ythee, 
 
 Supply me with the habit, and instruct me 
 
 How I may formally in person bear me 
 
 Like a true friar. More reasons for this action, 
 
 At our more leisure shall I render you ; 
 
 Only, this one : Lord Angelo is precise ; 
 
 Stands at a guard 1 with envy: scarce confesses 
 
 That his blood flows, or that his appetite 
 
 Is more to bread than stone : hence shall we see, 
 
 If power change purpose, what our seemers be. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE V. .fl nunnery. Enter Isabella and 
 Francisca. 
 
 fsab. And hare vou nuns no further privileges ? 
 
 Fran. Are not these large enough ? 
 
 Jsab. Yes, truly : I speak not as desiring more ; 
 But rather wishing a more strict restraint 
 Upon the sisterhood, the votarists of saint Clare. 
 
 Lucio. Ho ! peace be in this place ! f Within. 
 
 Isab. Who's that which calls ? 
 
 Fran. It is a man's voice : gentle Isabella, 
 Turn you the key, and know his business of him ; 
 You may, I may not ; vou are yet unsworn : 
 When you have vow'cS, you must not speak with 
 
 men, 
 
 But in the presence of the prioress : 
 Then, if you speak, you must not show your face ; 
 Or, if vou show your face, you must not speak. 
 He calls again ; I pray you answer him. 
 
 [Exit Francisca. 
 
 liab. Peace and prosperity ! Who is't that calls ? 
 
 Enter Lucio. 
 
 Lucio. Hail, virgin, if you be ; as those cheek- 
 roses 
 
 Proclaim you are no less ! can you so stead me, 
 As bring me to the sight of Isabella, 
 A novice of this place, and the fair sister 
 To her unhappy brother Claudio ? 
 
 Isab. Why her unhappy brother ? let me ask ; 
 The rather, for I now must make you know 
 I am that Isabella, and his sister. 
 
 Lucio. Gentle and fair, your brother kindly 
 
 greets you : 
 Not to be weary with you, he's in prison. 
 
 Isab. Wo me ! For what ? 
 
 Lucio. For that, which, if myself might be his 
 
 judge, 
 
 He should recefve his punishment in thanks : 
 He hath got his friend with child. 
 
 hob. Sir, make me not your story. 2 
 
 Lucio. It is true. 
 
 I would not though 'tis my familiar sin 
 With maids to seem the lapwing, and to jest, 
 Tongue far from heart, play with all virsrins so : 
 I hold you as a thing ensky'd, and sainted ; 
 By your renouncement, an immortal spirit ; 
 Ana to be talk'd with in sincerity, 
 As with a saint. 
 
 hob. You do blaspheme the good, in mocking 
 me. 
 
 Lwcio. Do not believe it. Fewness and truth, 
 
 'tis thus : 
 
 Your brother and his lover have embrac'd : 
 As those that feed grow full ; as blossoming time, 
 That from the seedness the bare fallow brings 
 
 M) On his defence. (2) Do not make a jest of me 
 In few and true words. (4) Breeding plenty. 
 (6) Extent, 
 
 To teeming fpison ;* even so her plenteous womb 
 .xpresseth his full tilth 1 and husbandry. 
 
 Isab. Some one with child by him ? My cou*in 
 Juliet ? 
 
 Lucio. Is she your cousin ? 
 
 Isab. Adoptedly : as school-maids change. Uttlf 
 
 names, 
 y vain though apt affection. 
 
 Lucio. She it i. 
 
 Isab. 0, let him marry her ! 
 
 Lucio. This is the point. 
 
 'he duke is very strangely gene from hence ; 
 5ore many gentlemen, myself being one. 
 n hand, and hope of action : but we do learn 
 v those that know the very nerves of state, 
 
 ls givings out were of an infinite distance 
 rom his true-meant design. Upon his place, 
 .nd with full line 11 of his authority, 
 jioverns lord Angelo ; a man, whose blood 
 s very snow-broth ; one who never feels 
 "he wanton stings and motions of the sens* ; 
 Jut doth rebate and blunt his natural edge 
 Vith profits of the mind, study and fast, 
 ie (to give fear to use and liberty, 
 Vhich have, for long, run by the hideous Uw, 
 \s mice by lions,) hath pick'd out an act ? 
 Jnder whose heavy sense your brother's life 
 r alls into forfeit : he arrests him on it ; 
 And follows close the rigour of the statute, 
 fo make him an example : all hope is gone, 
 Jnless you have the grace' by your fair prayer 
 To soften Angelo : and that's my pith 
 Of business 'twixt you and your poor brother. 
 
 Jsab. Doth he so seek his life ? 
 
 Lucio. Has censur'd' him 
 
 Already ; and, as I hear, the provost hath 
 A warrant for his execution. 
 
 Isab. Alas ! what poor ability's in me 
 To do him good ? . 
 
 Lucio. Assay the power you have. 
 
 Isab. My power ! Alas ! I doubt, 
 
 Lucio. Our doubts are traitors, 
 
 And make us lose the good we oft might win, 
 8y fearing to attempt : go to lord Ansrelo, 
 And let him learn to know, when maidens sue, 
 Vf en give like gods ; but when they weep and kneel, 
 \11 their petitions are as freely theirs 
 As they themselves would owe' them. 
 
 Isab. I'll see what I can do. 
 
 Lucio. But speedily. 
 
 Isab. I will about it straight ; 
 No longer staying but to give the mother 1 * 
 Notice of my affair. I humbly thank you : 
 Commend me to my brother : soon at night 
 I'll send him certain word of my success. 
 
 Lucio. I take my leave of you. 
 
 Isab. Good sir, adieu. 
 
 ACT II. 
 
 SCEJVE I.A hall in Angelo's hmue. Enter 
 Angelo, Escalus, a Justice, Provost, Officers, and 
 
 attendants. 
 
 1ng. We must not make a scare-crow of Ue Uw 
 Setting it up to fear" the birds of prey, 
 And let it keep one shape, till custom make it 
 Their perch, and not their terror. 
 
 (7) Power of gaining favour. (8) Sentenced, 
 (9) Have. (10) Abbess. (11) Scare, 
 M
 
 MEASURE FOR MEASURE, 
 
 4tt & 
 
 Escd. Ay, but yet 
 
 Let us be keen, and rather cut a little, 
 Than fall, and bruise to death : alas ! this gentleman, 
 Whom I would save, had a most noble father. 
 Let but your honour know 1 
 (Whom I believe to be most strait in virtue,) 
 That, in the working of your own afFections ? 
 Had time coher'd* with place, or place with wishing, 
 Or that the resolute acting of your blood 
 Could have attain'd the effect of your own purpose, 
 
 iri *i i i iv f. _ Mr- 
 
 Whether you had not sometime in your life 
 Err'd in this point which now you censure him, 
 And pull'd the law upon you. 
 
 Ang. 'Tis one thing to be tempted, Escalus, 
 Another thing to fall. I not deny, 
 The jury, passing on the prisoner's life. 
 May, in the sworn twelve, have a thief or two 
 Guiltier than him they try 
 
 justice. 
 That justice seizes. What know the laws, 
 
 Kscal. How know you that? 
 
 Elb. My wife, sir, whom I detest 11 before hea- 
 ven and vour honour, 
 
 Escal. How ! thy wife ? 
 
 Elb. Ay, sir; whom, I thank heaven, is an 
 honest woman, 
 
 Escal. Dost thou detest her therefore ? 
 
 Elb. I say, sir. I will detest myself also, as well 
 as she ; that this house, if it be not a bawd's house, 
 it is pity of her life, for it is a naughty house. 
 
 That thieves do pass 3 on thieves ? 'Tis very preg- 
 nant, 4 
 
 The jewel that we find, we stoop and take it, 
 Because we see it ; but what we do not see, 
 We tread upon, and never think of it. 
 You may not so extenuate his offence, 
 For* I have had such faults ; but rather tell me, 
 When I, that censure 6 him, do so offend, 
 Let mine own judgment pattern put my death, 
 And nothing come in partial. Sir, he must die. 
 
 Escal. Be it as your wisdom will. 
 
 3ng. Where is the provost ? 
 
 Prov. Here, if it like your honour. 
 
 Ang. See that Claudio 
 
 Be executed by nine to-morrow morning : 
 Bring him his confessor, let him be prepar'd ; 
 For that's the utmost of his pilgrimage. [Ex. Prov. 
 
 Escal. Well, heaven forgive him ; and forgive 
 
 us all { 
 
 Some rise by sin, and some by virtue fall : 
 Somejun from brakes' of vice, and answer none ; 
 And some condemned for a fault alone. 
 
 Enter Elbow, Froth, Clown, Officers, &c. 
 
 Elb. Come, bring them away: if these be good 
 people in a common weal, 8 that do nothing but use 
 their abuses in common houses, I know no law ; 
 bring them away. 
 
 *1ng. How now, sir! what's your name? and 
 what's the matter? 
 
 Elb. If it please your honour, I am the poor 
 duke's constable, and my name is Elbow; I do 
 
 Escal. How dost thou know that, constable ? 
 
 Elb. Marry, sir, by my wife ; who, if she had 
 been a woman cardinally given, might have been 
 accused in fornication, adultery, and all uncleanli- 
 ness thpre. 
 
 Lscal. By the woman's means ? 
 
 Elb. Ay, sir, by mistress Over-done's means : 
 what's open made toibut as she spit in h"is face, so .he defied him. 
 
 Clo. Sir, if it please your honour, this is not so. 
 
 Elb. Prove it before these varlets here, thou 
 
 honourable man, prove it. 
 
 Escal. Do you hear how he misplaces ? 
 
 (To Angelo. 
 
 Clo. Sir, she came in great with child; and long- 
 ing (saving your honour's reverence) for stew'd 
 prunes : Mr, we had but two in the house, which at 
 that very distant time stood, as it were, in a fruit- 
 ( dish, a dish of some three-pence : your honours have 
 jseen such dishes; they are not China dishes, but 
 'very good dishes. 
 
 Escal. Go to, go to : no matter for the dish, sir. 
 
 Clo. No, indeed, sir, not of a pin; youarethere- 
 j fore in the right : but, to the point : as I say, this 
 mistress Elbow, being, as I say, with child, and be- 
 ing great belly'd, and longing, as I said, for prunes ; 
 and having but two in the dish, as I said, master 
 Froth here, this very man, having eaten the rest as 
 I said, and, as I say, paying for them very honestly ; 
 for, as you know, master Froth, I could not give 
 you three-pence again. 
 
 Froth. No, indeed. 
 
 Clo. Very well : you being then, if you be re- 
 member'd, cracking the stones of the foresaid 
 prunes. 
 
 Froth. Ay, so I did, indeed. 
 
 Clo. Why, very well: I telling you then, if you 
 be remember'd, that such a one, and such a one, 
 were past cure of the thing you wot of, unless they 
 kept very good diet, as I tol'd you. 
 
 Froth. All this is true. 
 
 Clo. Why, very well then. 
 
 lean upon justice, sir, and do bring in here, before 
 
 Escal. Come, you are a tedious fqol : to the pur 
 ise. What was done to Elbow's wife, that he 
 
 your good "honour two notorious benefactors."' ~|S ath * au , sc to complain of? Come me to what was 
 Benefactors? Well ; what benefactors are! don ^ to c h . er ' 
 
 ur wiida**iwio : rr CM . *T 11 
 
 they ? are they no^ malefactors ? 
 
 Elb. If it please your honour, I know not well 
 what they are : but precise villains they are, that I 
 am sure of; and void of all profanation in the 
 world, that good Christians otisht to have. 
 
 EscaU This comes off well ;' here's a wise officer. 
 
 *9ng. Go to : what quality are they of? Elbow 
 It your name ? Why dost thou not speak, Elbow ? 
 
 Clo. He cannot, sir ; he's out at elbow. 
 
 Ang. What are you, sy- ? 
 
 Elb. He, sir? a tapster, sir; parcel 10 -bawd; one 
 that serves a bad woman 5 whose house, sir, was, 
 as they say, pluck'd down in the suburbs ; and now 
 she professes" a hot-house, which, I think, is a 
 wry ill house too. 
 
 (1) Examine. (5) Suited. (3) Pass judgment 
 (4) Plain. (5) Because. (6) Sentence. 
 \i) Thickest, thorny paths of vice. (8) Wealth. 
 
 Clo. Sir, your honour cannot come to that yet. 
 
 Escal. No, sir, nor I mean it not. 
 
 Clo, Sir, but you shall come to it, by your ho- 
 nour's leave : and I beseech you, look into master 
 Froth here, sir j a man of fourscore pound a year ; 
 whose father died at Hallowmas : Was't not at 
 Hallowmas, master Froth ? 
 
 Froth. All-lvMlond 11 eve. 
 
 Glo. Why, very well j I hope here be truths : 
 he, sir, sitting, as I say, m a lower 1 * chair, sir ; 
 'twas in the.BuncA of Grapes, where, indeed, you 
 have a delight to sit : have you not ? 
 
 Froth. I have so ; because it is an open room, 
 and good for winter. 
 
 12) For protest, 
 ;i4J Easy. 
 
 (1 3) Ere of All Saints day.
 
 8<eni 1. 
 
 MEASURE FOR MEASURE. 
 
 le. Why, rery well then j I hope here be! Clo. Mistress Over-done. 
 
 truths. Escal. Hath she had any more than one husband 1 
 
 Ang. This mil last out a night in Russia, ' Clo. Nine, sir; Over-done by tlie last. 
 
 When nights are longest there : I'll take my leave, I Escal. Nine! Come hither to me, master Froth. 
 And leave you to the nearing of the cause ; (Master Froth, I would not have you acquainted 
 
 Hoping you'll find good cause to whip them all. {with tapsters ; they will draw you, master Froth, 
 Eical. I think no less: good morrow to your and you will hang them: get you gone, and let 
 lordship. [Exit Angelo. |me hear no more of you. 
 
 Froth. I thank your worship : for mine own 
 jart, I never come into any room in a taphouse, 
 >ut I am drawn in. 
 
 Escal. Well ; no more of it, master Froth: fare- 
 Eib. I beseech you, sir, ask him what this man well. [Exit Froth.] Come you hither to me. 
 did to my wife? " I master tapster; what's your name, master tapeter; 
 
 Now, sir, come on : what was done to Elbow's 
 wife, once more ? 
 
 Clo. Once, sir ? there was nothing done to her 
 
 Clo, I beseech your honour, ask me. 
 
 Escal. Well, sir: whatdidthis gentleman to her? 
 
 do. I beseech you. sir, look in this gentleman's 
 face : Good master Froth, look upon nis honour ; 
 'tis for a good purpose : doth your honour mark 
 
 Clo. Pompey. 
 Escal. What else? 
 Clo. Bum, sir. 
 
 Escal. 'Troth, and your bum is the greatest, 
 thine about you ; so that, in the beastliest sense, you 
 
 his face ? " are Pompey the great. Pompey, you are partly a 
 
 Escal. Ay, sir, very well. bawd, Pompey, howsoever you colour it in being a 
 
 Clo. Nav, I beseech you, mark it well. tapster. Are vou not? come, tell me true; it shall 
 
 Escal. \\ ell, I do so. be the better for you. 
 
 Clo. Doth your honour see any harm in his face ?! Clo. Truly, sir, I am a poor fellow, that would 
 Escal. Why, no. live. 
 
 Clo. I'll be suppos'd 1 upon a book, his face is Escal. How would you live, Pompey ? by being 
 the worst thing 1 about him : good then ; if his face a bawd ? What do you think of the trade, Pom- 
 be the worst thing about him, how could master ipey ? is it a lawful trade? 
 
 Froth do ihe constable's wife any harm ? I would 
 know that of vour honour. 
 
 Escal. He f s in the right : constable, what say 
 TOU to it ? 
 
 Elb. First, an it like you, the house is ,1 re- 
 spected house ; next, this is a respected fellow ; 
 and his mistress is a respected woman. 
 
 Clo. By this hand, sir, his wife is a more 
 respected person than any of us all. 
 
 Elb. Varlet, thou liest ; thou liest, wicked var- 
 let : the time is yet to come, that she was ever re- 
 epected with man, woman, or child. 
 
 Clo. Sir, she was respected witli him before he 
 married with her. 
 
 Clo. If the law would allow it, sir. 
 
 Escal. But the law will not allow it, Pompey; 
 nor it shall not be allowed in Vienna. 
 
 Clo. Does your worship mean to geld and spay 
 all the vouth in the city ? 
 
 Escal. No, Pompey. 
 
 Clo. Truly, sir, in my poor opinion, they will 
 to't then : if your worship will take order 4 for the 
 drabs and tHe knaves, you need not to fear the 
 bawds. 
 
 Escal. There are pretty orders beginning 1 , I can 
 tell you : it is but heading and hangi. 
 
 Clo. If you head and hang all that offend that 
 way but for ten year together, you'll be elad to 
 ~ive out a commission for more heads. If this law 
 
 Escal. Which is the wiser here ? justice, or ini-, 
 quitv ? 2 Is this true ? jKold in Vienna ten year, I'll rent the fairest house 
 
 Elb. thou caitiff! thou varlet ! O thou wick- j in it, after three-pence a bay: if you live to see 
 ed Hannibal ! 3 I respected with her, before I was this come to pass, say Pompey told 'you so. 
 married to her ? If ever I was respected with her, Escal. Thank you, gooa Pompey : and ? in re- 
 or ehe with me, let not your worship think me theiquital of your prophecy, hark you, I advise you, 
 poor duke's officer: Prove this, thou wicked Han- i let me not find you before me again upon anycom- 
 
 nibal, or I'll have mine action of battery on thee. 
 
 Esca!. If he took you a box o' the ear, you 
 mi?ht have your action of slander too. 
 
 Etb. Marry, I thank your jrood worship for it: 
 what is't your worship's'pleasure I should do with 
 this wicked caitiff? 
 
 F.acal. Truly, officer, because he hath some of- 
 
 plaint whatsoever, no. not for dwelling where you 
 do : if I do, Pompey, I shall beat you to your tent, 
 and prove a shrewd Caisar to you j in plain deal- 
 ing, Pompey, I shall have you whipt: so for this 
 time Pompey, fare you well. 
 
 Clo. I thank your worship for your pood coun- 
 sel ; but I shall follow it, as the flesh and fortune 
 
 ,*"* * i MIJ 9 wuiv-f^l y LJC^tHlCTC- lit, lia.111 aUlIlC Ul- j i/uv A diiw. vsiivsr 
 
 fenee* in him, that thou wouldst discover if thou j shall better determine, 
 couldst, let him continue in his courses, till thou Whip me ! No, no; let carman whip his jade: 
 kno w'st what they are. The valiant heart's not whipt out of his trade. (Ex. 
 
 Elb. Marry, I thank your worship for it : thou Escal. Come hither to me, master Elbow ; come 
 *eest, thou wicked varlet now, what's come uponihither, master Constable. How long 1 have you 
 thee ; thou art to continue now, thou varlet; thou j been in this place of constable ? 
 
 art to continue. 
 Escal. Where were you born, friend? [To Froth. 
 Froth. Here, in Vienna, sir. 
 Eical. Are you of fourscore pounds a year ? 
 Protk. Yes, and't please you, sir. 
 Etcal. So. What trade are you of, sir? 
 
 [ To the Clown. 
 
 Clo. A tapster : a poor widow's tapster. 
 Etral. Your mistress's name ? 
 
 (1) Depottd, iwom. (2) C ratable or Clgwn, (3) For cannibal. 
 
 Ell>. Seven years and a half, sir. 
 
 Escal. I thought, by your readiness in the office, 
 you had continued in it some time : You say, seven 
 years together ? 
 
 Elb. And a half, sir. 
 
 Escal. Alas ! it hath been great pains to you ! 
 They do you wrong to put you so oft upon't : Are 
 there not men in your ward sufficient to serve it ? 
 
 Elb. Faith, sir, few of any wit in such matter* ; 
 
 (4) Measure*.
 
 MEASURE FOR MEASURE. 
 
 Jttll. 
 
 M they are chosen, they are glad to choose me for 
 them ; I do it for some piece of money, and go 
 through with all. 
 
 Eacal. Look you, bring me in the names of 
 ome six or seven, the most sufficient of your parish. 
 
 E Ib. To your worship's house, sir? 
 
 Escal. To my house: Fare you well. [Exit 
 JElbow.] What's o'clock, think you ? 
 
 Just. Eleven, sir. 
 
 Escal. I pray you home to dinner with me. 
 
 Jyst . I humbly thank you. 
 
 Escal. It grieves me for the death of Claudio ; 
 But there's no remedy. 
 
 Just. Lord Angelo is severe. 
 
 Escal. , It is but needful : 
 
 Mercy is not itself, that oft looks so : 
 Pardon is still the nurse of second wo : 
 But yet, Poor Claudio ! There's no remedy. 
 Come, sir. [Exeunt. 
 
 SCJEwYE II. Another room in the same. Enter 
 Provost and a Servant 
 
 Sen. He's hearing of a cause ; he will come 
 
 straight. 
 Til tell him of you. 
 
 Prov. Pray you, do. [Exit Servant.] I'll know 
 His pleasure ; mav be, he will relent : Alas, 
 He hath but as offended in a dream ! 
 AU sects, all ages, smack of this vice ; and ha 
 Ta die for it ! 
 
 Enter Angelo. 
 
 tng. Now, what's the matter, provost ? 
 
 Prov. Is it your will Claudio shall die tomorrow ? 
 
 Jlng. Pid I not tell thee, yea. ? hadst thou not 
 
 order ? 
 Why dost thou ask again ? 
 
 Prov. Lest I might be too rash : 
 
 Under your good correction, I have seen, 
 When, "after execution, judgment hath 
 Repented o'er his doom. 
 
 inf. Go to ; let that be mine ; 
 
 Dp you your office, or give up your place, 
 And" you shall well he spar'd. 
 
 Prov. I crave your honour's pardon. 
 
 What shall be done, sir, with the groaning Juliet? 
 She's very near her hour. 
 
 ing. Dispose of her 
 
 TO some more fitter place ; and that with speed. 
 
 Re-enter Servant 
 
 Serv. Here is the sister of the man condemn'd, 
 Desires access to you. 
 
 ,ingr. Hath he a sister ? 
 
 Prov. Ay, my good lord ; a very virtuous maid, 
 And to be shortly of a sisterhood, 
 If not already. 
 
 .ing-. Well, let her be admitted. [Ex. Serv. 
 See you the fornicatress be re.moy'd ; 
 Let her have needful, but not lavish, means ; 
 There shall be order for it. 
 
 Enter Lucio and Isabella. 
 
 Prov. Save your honour ! [Offering to retire. 
 
 ,fng-. Stay a little while. [7'o'lsab.] You are 
 welcome : What's your will? 
 
 Isab. I am a woful suitor to your honour, 
 Please but your honour hear me. 
 
 An*. Well ; what's vour suit ? 
 
 Isaf. There is a vice, that most I do abhor, 
 And most desire should meet the blow of justice ; 
 For which I would not plead, but that I must; 
 
 (2) Be wiured. 
 
 For which I must not plead, but that I am 
 At war, 'twist will, and will not. 
 
 Jlng. Well; the matt*-? 
 
 Isab. I have a brother is condemn'd to die : 
 I do beseech you, let it be his fault, * 
 And not my brother. 
 
 Prov. Heaven give thee moving grace* ! 
 
 Jlng. Condemn the fault, and not the actor of it ' 
 Why, every fault's condemn'd, ere it be done : 
 Mine were the very cypher of a function, 
 To find the faults, whose fine stands in record, 
 And let go by the actor. 
 
 Isab. O just, but severe law ! 
 
 I had a brother then. Heaven keep your honour ! 
 
 [Retiring. 
 
 Lucio. [To Isab.] Give't not o'er so: to mm 
 
 again, entreat him ; 
 
 Kneel down before him, hang upon his gown ; 
 You are too cold : if you should need a pin, 
 You could not with more tame a tongue desire it : 
 To him, I say. 
 
 Isab. Must he needs die? 
 
 tfur. Maiden, no remedy. 
 
 Isab. Yes : I do think that you might pardon him, 
 And neither heaven, nor man, grieve at the mercjr. 
 
 fln$. I will not do't. 
 
 Isab. But can you, if you would? 
 
 Any. Look, what I will not, that I cannot do. 
 
 Isab. But might you do't, and do the world no 
 
 wrong, 
 
 If so your heart were touch'd with that remorse* 
 As mine is to him ? 
 
 .tfn/r. He's sentenc'd ; 'tis too late. 
 
 Lucio. You are too cold. [To Isabella. 
 
 Isab. Too late ? why, no ; I, that do speak a word, 
 May call it back again : Well believe 2 this, 
 No ceremony that to great ones 'longs, 
 Not the king's crown, nor the deputed sword, 
 The marshal's truncheon, nor the judge's robe, 
 Become them with one half so good a grace, 
 As mercy does. If he had been as you, 
 And you as he, you would have slipt like him ; 
 But he, like you, would not have been so stern. 
 
 iu^. Pray you, begone. 
 
 I.iab. I would to heaven I had your potency, 
 And you were Isabel ! should it then be thus"? 
 No ; I would tell what 'twere to be a judge, 
 And what a prisoner. 
 
 Lucio. Ay, touch him : there's the vein. [Jsidt 
 
 Jlni*. Your brother is a forfeit of the law, 
 And you but waste your words. 
 
 Isab. Alas! alas! \ 
 
 Whv, all the souls that were, were forfeit once : \ 
 And He that might the vantage best have took, I 
 Found out the remedy : How would you be. / 
 If He, which is the top of judgment," should 
 But judge you as you are ? O, think on that ; 
 And mercy then will breathe withm your lips, / 
 Like man new made. / 
 
 .inr. Be you content, fair maid : 
 
 It is tho law, not I, condemns your brother : 
 Were he my kinsman, brother, or my son, 
 It should be thus with him ; He must die to-mor- 
 row. 
 
 Isab. To-morrow ? O, that's sudden ! Spare him, 
 
 spare him : 
 
 He's not prepar'd for death ! Even for our kitchens 
 We kill the fowl of season ; 3 shall we serve heaven 
 With less respect than we do minister 
 To our gross selves? Good, good my lord, bethink 
 
 you: 
 Who is-jt that hath died for this offence ? 
 
 (3) When in season.
 
 MEASURE FOR MEASURE, 
 
 There's many hare committed it. 
 Lucio. 
 
 Ay, well said. 
 
 Ang. The law hath not been dead, though it 
 
 hath slept: 
 
 Those many had not dar'd to do that evil, 
 If the first man that did the edict infringe, 
 Had answer'd for his deed: now, 'tis awake ; 
 Takes note of what is done ; and, like a prophet, 
 Looks in a glass, that shows what future evils 
 (Either now, or oy remissness new-conceiv'd, 
 And so in progress to be hatch'd and born,) 
 Are now to have no successive degrees, 
 But, where they live, to end. 
 
 Isab. Yet show some pity. 
 
 .in?. I show it most of all, when I show justice ; 
 For then I pity those I do not know, 
 Which a dismiss'd offence would after pall ; 
 And do him right, that, answering one foul wrong, 
 Lives not to act another. Be satisfied ; 
 Your brother dies to-morrow : be content 
 
 Isab. So you must be the first, that gives this 
 
 sentence : 
 
 And he, that suffers : 0, it is excellent 
 To have a jgiant's strength ; but it is tyrannous 
 1 _'To use it like a giant. 
 
 Lucio. That's well said. 
 
 Isab. Could srreat men thunder 
 As Jove himself does, Jove would ne'er be quiet, 
 For every pelting' petty officer, 
 Would use his heaven for thunder; nothing but 
 
 thunder. 
 
 Merciful heaven ! 
 
 Thou rather, with thy sharp and sulphurous bolt, 
 
 Split'st the unwedgeable and gnarled 2 oak, 
 
 Than the soft mvrtle : 0, but man, proud man ! 
 
 Drest in a little brief authority ; 
 
 Most ignorant of what he's most assur'd, 
 
 His glassy essence, like an angry ape. 
 
 Plays such fantastic tricks before 'high heaven, 
 
 As make the angels weep: who, with our spleens, 
 
 Would all themselves laugh mortal. 
 
 Lucio. You had fflarr'd all elK. 
 
 7*a6. Not with fond shekels of the tested 1 
 
 101 
 
 f6W. 
 
 Or stones, whose rates are either rich or poor, 
 As fancy values them ; but with true prayers, 
 That shall be up in heaven, and enter there, 
 Ere sun-rise ; prayers from preserved* souls, 
 From fasting maids, whose minds are dedicate 
 To nothing temporal. 
 
 ing. Well ; come to me 
 
 To-morrow. 
 
 Lucio. Go to ; it is well ; away. [Aside to Isab. 
 
 Isab. Heaven keep your honour safe ! 
 
 in :r. Amen: for I 
 
 Am that way going to temptation, [*lsidt. 
 
 Where prayers cross. 
 
 Isab. At what hour to-morrow 
 
 Shall I attend your lordship 1 
 
 .'ftiff-. At anr time 'fore noon. 
 
 Isab. Save your honour! [.r.Luc. Isa. ondPro. 
 
 9ng. From thee ; even from thy virtue ! 
 
 What's this ? what's this ? Is this her fault, or mine ? 
 The tempter, or the tempted, who sins most ? Ha ! 
 Not she ', nor doth she tempt : but it is I, 
 That lying by the violet, in the tun. 
 Do, as the carrion does, not as the flower, 
 Corrupt with virtuous season. Can it be, 
 That modesty may more betray our sense 
 Than woman's lightness ? Having waste ground 
 
 enough, 
 
 Shall we desire to raze the sanctuary, 
 And pitch our evils there ? s O, fie, fie, fie ! 
 What dost thou ? or what art thou, Angelb ? 
 Dost thou desire her foully, for those things 
 That make her good ? O, let her brother live : 
 Thieves for their robbery have authority, 
 When judges steal themselves. What? do I love her, 
 That I desire to hear her speak again. 
 And feast upon her eyes ? What is't I dream on ? 
 O cunning enemv, that, to catch a saint, 
 With saints dust bait thy hook ! Most dangerous 
 Is that temptation, that doth goad us on 
 
 Lucio. O, to him, to him, wench : he will relent ; [To sin in loving virtue : never could the strumpet, 
 He's coming, I pereeive't I With all her double vipro 
 
 Pror. 
 
 our, art, and nature, 
 Pray heaven, she win him ! 'Once stir mf temper : but this virtuous maid 
 
 Isab. Hark, how I'll bribe you : Good my lord, 
 
 turn back. 
 
 Jnf. How ! bribe me ? 
 Isab. Ay, with such gifts, that heaven shall share 
 
 with you. 
 
 (1) Paltry. (2) Knotted. (3) Attested, stamped. 
 (4) Preferred from the corruption Of the world. 
 
 When men were fond, I smil'd, and wonder'd how. 
 
 [Exit. 
 
 Isab. We cannot weifth o'ur brother with ourself : \ Subdues me quite ; Ever, till now, 
 Great men may jest witn saints : 'tis wit in them ; 
 But, in less, foul profanation. 
 
 Lucia. Thou art in the rierrrt, frirl ; more o' that 
 
 Isab. That in the captain's but a choleric word, 
 Which in the soldier is dat blasphemy. 
 
 Lucia. Art advis'd o' that ? more on't. 
 
 ,inq-. Why do you put these sayings upon me? 
 
 Isab. Because authority, though" it err like others, 
 Hath yet a kind of medicine in itself, 
 That skims the vice o' the top : Go to your bosom : 
 Knock there ; and ask your heart, what it doth know 
 That's like my brother's fault : if it confess 
 A natural guiltiness, such as is his, 
 Let it not sound a thought upon your tongue 
 Against my brother's life. 
 
 .Ing-. She speaks, and 'tis 
 
 Such sense, that my sense breeds with it. Fare 
 
 you well. 
 
 Isab. Gentle my lord, turn back. 
 
 . I will bethink me: Come again to-morrow. 
 
 SCZV Hi. .? room in a prison. Enter Duke, 
 habited like a Friar, and Provost. 
 
 Duke. Hail to you, provost ; so, I think T6n are. 
 Pror. I am the provost: What's your will, good 
 
 friar ? 
 Duke. Bound by my charity, and my bltss'd 
 
 Order, 
 
 I come to visit the afflicted spirits 
 Here in the prison : do me the common right 
 To let me see them ; and td make me know 
 The nature of their crimes, that I may minister 
 To them accordingly. 
 
 Pror. I would do more than that, if more wtrt 
 needful. 
 
 Enter Juliet 
 
 Look, here comes one ; a gentlewoman of mine, 
 Who falling in the flames of her own youth. 
 Hath blister'd her report : She is with child. ; 
 And he that got it, sentenc'd : a young man 
 More fit to do another such offence, 
 
 Than die for this. 
 Duke. 
 
 When must he die ? 
 
 (5) See 2 Kings, x. 27.
 
 MEASURE FOR MEASURE. 
 
 Jtei 
 
 Prov. As I do think, to-morrow. 
 I ha/e provided for you; stay awhile. [To Juliet. 
 And you shall be conducted. 
 
 Duke. Repent you, fair one, of the sin you carry 7 
 
 Juliet. I do ; and bear the shame most patiently. 
 
 Duke. I'll teach you how you shall arraign your 
 
 conscience, 
 
 And try your penitence, if it be sound, t 
 Or hollowly put on. 
 
 Juliet. I'll gladly learn. 
 
 Duke. Love you the man that wrong'd you ? 
 
 Juliet. Yes, as I lov'd the woman that wrong'd Than to demana what 'tis. Your brother cannot live, 
 him. Isab. Even so ? Heaven keep your honour ! 
 
 Duke. So then, it seems, your most offenceful act 
 Was mutually committed / 
 
 Juliet. Mutually. 
 
 Duke. Then was your sin of heavier kind than his. 
 
 Juliet. I do confess it, and repent it, father. 
 
 Duke. 'Tis meet so, daughter : But lest you do 
 
 repent, 
 
 As that the sin hath brought you to this shame, 
 Which sorrow is always toward ourselves, not 
 
 heaven ; 
 
 Showing, we'd not spare 1 heaven, as we love it, 
 But as we stand in fear, 
 
 Juliet. I do repent me, as it is an evil ; 
 And take the shame with joy. 
 
 Duke. There rest. 
 
 Your partner, as I hear, must die to-morrow, 
 And I am going with instruction to him. 
 (trace go with you ! Benedicite ! [Exit. , _ , . . 
 
 Juliet. Must die to-morrow! O, injurious love, WWft had you rather, That the most just law 
 That respites me a lifr, whose verv comfort Now took your brother's life : or, to redeem him, 
 
 -.-! i * t^*:..* * ** 
 
 The general,* subject to a well-wish'd king. 
 Quit their own part, and in obsequious fondness 
 Crowd to his presence, where their untaught lore 
 Must needs appear offence, 
 
 Enter Isabella. 
 
 How now, fair maid ? 
 
 Isab. I am come to knew your pleasure. 
 
 dng. That you might know it, would much 
 better please me, 
 
 . Yet may he live a while ; and, it may be, 
 As long as you, or 1 : Yet he must die. 
 
 Isab. Under your sentence ? 
 
 'Inf. Yea. 
 
 Isab. When, I beseech you ? that in his reprieve, 
 Longer, or shorter, he may be so fitted, 
 That his soul sicken not. 
 
 ing. Ha ! Fie, these filthy vires ! It were as good 
 To pardon him, that hath from nature stolen 
 A man already made, as to remit 
 Their saucy sweetness, that dp coin heaven's image, 
 In stamps ihat are forbid : 'tis all as easy 
 Falsely to take away a life true made, 
 As to put mettle in restrained means, 
 To make a false one. 
 
 Isab. 'Tis set down so in heaven, but not in earth. 
 Say you .so ? then I shall pozeyou quickly. 
 
 Is still a dying horror .' 
 
 Pror. 
 
 'Tis pity of him. [Exeunt. 
 
 SCEJfE IJ'..l room in Angelas house. Enter 
 Angulo. 
 
 Ing. When I would pray and think, I think and 
 
 pray 
 
 To several subjects : heaven hath my empty words ; 
 W : hilst my invention, hearing not my tongue, 
 Anchors on Isabel : Heaven in my mouth, 
 As if I did but only chew his name ; 
 And in my heart, the strong and swelling evil 
 Of my conception : The state, whereon I studied, 
 Is like a good thing, being often read, 
 Grown fear'd and tedious ; yea, my gravity, 
 Wherein (let no man hear me) I take pride, 
 Could I, with boot, 2 change for an idle plume, 
 Which the air beats for vain. O place ! O form ! 
 How often dost thou with thy case, 3 thy habit, 
 Wrench awe from fools, and tie the wiser souls 
 To thy false seeming ? Blood, thou still art blood : 
 Let's write good angel on the devil's horn, 
 'Tis not the devil's crest. 
 
 Enter Servant. 
 
 How now, who's there ? 
 
 Sen. One Isabel, a sister, 
 
 Desires access to yon. 
 
 *ing. "Teach her the way. [Ex. Serv. 
 
 O heavens ! 
 
 Why does my blood thus muster to my heart ; 
 Making both it unable for itself, 
 And dispossessing all the other parts 
 Of necessary fitness ? 
 
 So play the foolish throngs with one that swoons ; 
 Come all to help him, and so stop the air 
 By which he should revive : and even so 
 
 (1) Spare to offend heaven. (5) Profit. 
 (3) Outside, (4) People. 
 
 Give up your body to suchsi^et uncleannebs, 
 As she that he hath stain'd ? 
 
 Isab. Sir, believe this, 
 
 I had rather give my body than my soul. 
 
 Jlng. I talk not of your soul : Our compell'd sins 
 Stand more for number than accompt. 
 
 Isab. How say you ? 
 
 Ing. Nay, I'll not warrant that ; for I can speak 
 Against the "thing I say. Answer to this ; 
 I, now the voice of the recorded law, 
 Pronounce a sentence on your brother's life : 
 Might there not be rt charity in sin, 
 To save this brother's life ? 
 
 Isab. Please you to dot. 
 
 I'll take it as a peril to my soul, 
 It is no sin at all, but charity. 
 
 inr. Pleas'd you to do't. at peril of your soul, 
 Were equal poize of sin and charity. 
 
 Isab. That I do beg his life, if it'be sin, 
 Heaven, let me bear it ! you granting of my suit, 
 If that be sin, I'll make it my morn prayer 
 To have it added to the faults of mine, ' 
 And nothing of your, answer. 
 
 An*. Nay, but hear me : 
 
 Your sense pursue-s not mine: eitheryou areignorant, 
 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. 
 
 Ing. Thus wisdom wishes to appear most bright, 
 When it doth tax itself: as these black masks 
 Proclaim an enshicld* beauty ten times louder 
 Than beauty could displayed. But mark me ; 
 To be receiv'd plain, I'll speak more gross : 
 Your brother is to die. 
 
 Isab. So. 
 
 Ung. And his offence is so, as it appears 
 Accountant to the law upon that pain.* 
 
 Isab. True. 
 
 fag- Admit no other way to sare his life 
 
 (5) EnshiehUd, corered (6) Penalty.
 
 Setnt L 
 
 MEASURE FOR MEASURE. 
 
 103 
 
 (As I subscribe 1 not that, nor any other, 
 But in the loss of question. 3 ) 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-binding law ; and that there were 
 No earthly mean to save him, but that either 
 You must lay down the treasures of vour body 
 To this supposed, or else let him suffer ; 
 What would you do ? 
 
 Isab. As much for my poor brother, as myself: 
 That is, Wer? I imder the terms of death, 
 The impression of keen whips I'd wear as rubies, 
 And strip myself to death, as to a bed 
 That lonsring I have been sic'; for, ere I'd yield 
 Mv body up to shame. 
 
 ,'i/i 2% " Then must your brother die. 
 
 Isab. And 'twere the cheaper v.'uy : 
 Better it were, a brother died at once, 
 Than that a sister, by redeeming him, 
 Should die for ever. 
 
 .ins". Were not you then as cruel as the sentence 
 That you have siander'd so ? 
 
 Isab. Ignoiuy 3 in ransom, and free pardon, 
 Are of two houses : lawful mercy is 
 Nothing akin to foul redemption. 
 
 .ing-. You seem'd of late to make the law a ty- 
 rant, 
 
 And rather prov'd the sliding of your brother 
 A merriment tiian a vice. 
 
 Isab. O, pardon me, my lord ; it oft falls out, 
 To have what we'd have, we speak not v, hat we 
 
 mean: 
 
 I something do excuse the thing I hate, 
 For his advantage that I dearly love. 
 
 4)>.?. We are all frail. 
 
 Isab. Else let my brother die, 
 
 If not a feodary, 4 but only he, 
 Owe,* and succeed by weakness. 
 
 .iiiEr. Nay, women are frail too. 
 
 Isao. Ay, as the glasses where they view them- 
 selves ; 
 
 Which are a easy broke as they make forms. 
 Women ! Help heaven ! men tht-ir creation mar 
 In profiting by them. Nay, call us ten times frail ; 
 For we are soft as our complexions are, 
 And credulous to faise prints.* 
 
 .in?. " I think it well: 
 
 And from this testimony of your own sex 
 (Since, I suppose, we are made to be no stronger 
 Than faults may shake our frames, ) let me be bold ; 
 I do arrest your words ; Be that you are, 
 That is, a woman ; if you be more, you're none ; 
 If you be one (as you are well exprcss'd 
 By all external warrants,) show it now, 
 By putting 1 on the destin'd livery. 
 
 'Isab. I have no tongue but one: gentle my lord, 
 Let me entreat you speak the former language. 
 
 .?rt^-. Plainly conceive, I love vou. 
 
 Isab. My brother did love Juliet ; and you 
 
 tell me, 
 That he shall die for it. 
 
 .frtsr. He shall not, Isabel, if vou give me love. 
 
 Ixab. I know, your virtue hath a license in't, 
 Which seems a little fouler than it is, 
 To pluck on others. 
 
 ?n.5'. Believe me, on mine honour, 
 
 Mv words express my purpose. 
 
 Isab. Ha ! little honour to be much believ'd ? 
 And most pernicious purpose ! Seeming, seeming! ' 
 
 (}) Agree to. (2) Conversation. (3) Ignominy. 
 (4; Associate. (5) Own. (6) Impressions. 
 
 I will proclaim thee, Angelo ; look for't t 
 Sign me a present pardon for my brother, 
 Or, with an outstretch'd throat, I'll tell the world 
 Aroud, what man thou art. 
 
 .i.-i g . WTio will believe thee, Isabel 1 
 
 My unsoil'd name, the austereness of my life, 
 My vouch 8 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 rem 
 Fit thy consent to my sharp appetite ; 
 Lay bv all nicety, ana prolixious 9 blushes, 
 That banish what they sue for ; redeem thy brother 
 By yielding up thy bodv 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 Ike affection that now guides me most, 
 I'll prove a tyrant to him : As for you, 
 Say what you can, my false o'enveighs your true. 
 
 [Exit. 
 
 hob. To whom shall 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 ; 
 Hookir>g both right and wrong to the appetite, 
 To follow as it draws ! I'll to my brother : 
 Though he hath fallen, by prompture of the blood, 
 Yet hath he in him such a mind of honour, 
 That had he twenty heads to tender down 
 On twenty bloody blocks, he'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'll tell him yet of Augelo's request, 
 And n't his mind to death, for his soul's rest. [Exit. 
 
 ACT III. 
 
 SC-E.VE I.Ji room in the pram. Enter Duke 
 Claudio, and Provost. 
 
 Duke. So, then you hope of pardon from lord 
 Ang-elo ? 
 
 Claud. The miserable have no other medicine, 
 But only hope : 
 I have hope to live, and am prepar'd to die. 
 
 Duke. Be absolute 10 fordeath; eitherdeath, orlife 
 Shall thereby be the sweeter. Reason thus with 
 
 life, 
 
 If I dolose thee, I do lose a thing 
 That none but fools would keep^ a breath thou art 
 (Servile to all the skiey influences,) 
 That, dost this habitation, where thou keep'st. 
 Hourly afflict : merely, thou art death's fool ; 
 For him thou labour's"! by thy flight to shun, 
 And yet run'st toward him stifl : Thou art not noble ; 
 For all the accommodations that thou bear'st, 
 Are nurs'd by baseness : Thou art 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; vet grossly fear'st 
 Thy death, which is no more. Thou art not thyself; 
 For thou exist'st on manv a thousand grains 
 That issue out of dust : Happy thou art not : 
 
 (7) Hvpocrisy. (8) Attestation. (9) Reluctant. 
 (10) Determined.
 
 101 
 
 MEASURE FOR MEASURE, 
 
 JLilU. 
 
 For what thou hast not, still thou stnv'st to get ; 
 And what thou hast, forget'st ; Thou art not certain ; 
 For thy complexion shifts to strange effects, 1 
 After the moon : If thou art rich, thou art poor; 
 For, like an ass, whose back with ingots bows, 
 Thou bear'st thy heavy riches but a journey, 
 And death unloads thee : Friend hast thou none 5 
 For thine own bowels, which do call thee sire, 
 The mere 'effusion of thy proper loins, 
 Do curse the gout, serpigo, 2 and the rheum, 
 For ending thee no sooner : Thou hast nor youth, 
 
 nor age ; 
 
 But, as it were, an after-dinner's sleep, 
 Dreaming on both : for all thy blessed youth 
 Becomes as aged, and doth beg thee alms 
 Of palsied eld ;' and when thou art old, and rich, 
 Thou hast neither heat, affection, limb, nor beauty, 
 To make thy riches pleasant. What's yet in this, 
 That bears the name of life ? Yet in this life 
 Lie hid more thousand deaths : yet' death we fear, 
 That makes these odds all even. 
 
 Claud. I humbly thank you. 
 
 To sue to live, I find, I seek to die ; 
 And, seeking death, find life : Let it come. on. 
 
 Enter Isabella. 
 
 Isdb. What, ho ! Peace here ; grace and good 
 company ! 
 
 Prm. Who's there ? come in : the wish deserves 
 a welcome. 
 
 Duke. Dear sir, ere long I'll visit you again. 
 
 Claud. Most holy sir, I thank you. 
 
 Isdb. My business is a word or two with Claudio. 
 
 Proo. And very welcome. Look, signior, here's 
 your sister. 
 
 Duke. Provost, a word with you. 
 
 Prov. As many as you please. 
 
 Duke. Bring them to speak, where I may be 
 
 conceal'd, 
 Yet hear them. [Exeunt Duke and Provost. 
 
 Claud. Now, sister, what's the comfort ? 
 
 Isab. Why, as all comforts are ; most good in- 
 deed; 
 
 Lord Angelo. haying affairs to heaven, 
 Intends you for his swift ambassador, 
 Where you shall be an everlasting leiger:* 
 Therefore your best appointment 5 make 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 ? 
 
 I sab. Yes, brother, you may live ; 
 There is a devilish mercy in the judge, 
 If you'll implore it, that will free your life, 
 But fetter you till death. 
 
 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 should'st entertain, 
 And six or seven winters more respect 
 Than a perpetual honour. Dar'st thou die ? 
 
 (1) Affects, affections. (2) Leprous eruptions. 
 
 (5) Old age. (4) Resident. (5) Preparation. 
 
 (6) Vastness of extent. (7) Shut up. 
 
 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. 
 
 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 enmew,* 
 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 princely Angelo 7 
 
 Isab. O, 'tis the cunning livery of hell, 
 The damned'st body to invest and cover 
 In princely guards ! Dost thou think, Claudio, 
 If I would yield him my virginity, 
 Thou mightest be freed ? 
 
 Claud. 0, heavens! it cannot be. 
 
 Isab. Yes, he would give it 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 shall not do't. 
 
 hab. O, were it but my life, 
 I'd throw it down for your deliverance 
 As frankly 9 as a pin. 
 
 Claud. Thanks, dear Isabel. 
 
 Isab. Be ready,Claudio, for your death to-morr6w. 
 
 Claud. Yes. Has he affections in him. 
 That thus can make him bite the law by the nosd, 
 When he would force it ? Sure it is no sin ; 
 Or of the deadly seven it is the least. 
 
 Isab. Which is the least ? 
 
 Claud. If it were damnable, he, being so wise, 
 Why, would he for the momentary trick, 
 Be perdurably 10 fined? O, Isabel! 
 
 Isab. What says my brother ! 
 
 Claud. Death is a fearful thing. 
 
 Isab. And shamed life a hateful. 
 
 Claud. Ay, but to do die, and go we know* not 
 
 where ; 
 
 To lie in cold obstruction, and to rot ; 
 This sensible warm motion to become 
 A kneaded cold ; and the delighted spirit 
 To bathe in fiery floods, or to reside 
 In thrilling regions 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 thoughts 
 Imagine howlinp: ! 'tis too horrible ! 
 The wearied and most loathed worldly lift, 
 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 lit*. 
 
 What sin you do to save a brother's life, 
 Nature dispenses with the deed so far, 
 That it becomes a virtue. 
 
 I***- 0, you beast! 
 
 ( 8) Laced robes. (9) Freely. (10) Lwtinfly. 
 (11) Invisible.
 
 StmtL 
 
 MEASURE FOR MEASURE. 
 
 105 
 
 0, faithless coward ! 0, dishonest wretch. ! 
 
 Wilt thou be made a man out of my rice ? 
 
 ii't not a kind of incest, to take life 
 
 From thine own sister's shame ? What should I 
 
 think ? 
 
 Hearen shield, my mother play'd my father fair ! 
 For such a warped slip of wilderness 1 
 Ne'er issu'd from his blood. Take my defiance :* 
 Die ; perish ! might but my bending down 
 Reprieve thee from thy fate, it should proceed : 
 I'll pray a thousand prayers for thy death, 
 No word to save thee. 
 
 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 thou diest quicklv. 
 Claud. 
 
 [Going. 
 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 
 a while. 
 
 Duke. [To Claudio. aside.] Son, I have over- 
 heard what hath passed between you and your sis- 
 ter. Angelo had never the purpose to corrupt her ; 
 only he hath made an essay of her virtue, to practise 
 his judgment with the disposition of natures : she, 
 having the truth of honour in her, hath made him 
 that gracious denial which he is most glad to re- 
 ceive ; I am confessor to Angelo, and 1 know this to 
 be true ; therefore prepare yourself to death : do not 
 satisfy your resolution with hopes that are fallible : 
 to-morrow you must die ; go to your knees, and 
 
 make ready. 
 
 Claud. Let me ask my sister pardon. 
 
 I am so 
 
 out of love with life, that I will sue to be rid of it. 
 
 Duke. Hold 4 you there : farewell. 
 
 Re-enter Provost. 
 Provost, a word with you. 
 Prov. What's your will, father? 
 
 [Ex. Claud. 
 
 Duke. That shall ndt be much amis* : yet, as tha 
 matter now stands, he will avoid your accusation ; 
 he made trial of you only. Therefore, fasten your 
 ear on my advisings ; to the love I have in doing 
 good, a remedy presents itself. I do make myself 
 believe, that you may most uprighteously do a poor 
 wronged lady a merited benefit ; redeem your bro- 
 ther Irom the angry law ; do no stain to'your own 
 gracious person ; and much please the absent duke, 
 if, peradyenture, he shall ever return to have hear- 
 ing of this business. 
 
 fsab. Let me hear you speak further; I have 
 spirit to do any thing that appears not foul in the 
 truth of mj spirit. 
 
 Duke. \ irtue is hold, and goodness never fearful. 
 Have not you heard speak of Mariana, the sister of 
 Frederick, the great soldier, who miscarried at sea? 
 
 Isab. I have lieaid of the lady, and good words 
 went with her name. 
 
 Duke. Her should this Angelo have married ; was 
 affianced to her by oath, and the nuptial appointed : 
 between which time of the contract, and limit of the 
 solemnity, her brother Frederick was wrecked at 
 sea, having in that perish'd vessel the dowry of his 
 sister. But mark, how heavily this befel to the poor 
 gentlewoman : there she lost a noble and renowned 
 brother, in his love toward her ever most kind and 
 natural ; with him the portion and sinew of her for- 
 tune, her marria?e-dowry ; with both, her combi- 
 nate* husband, this well-seeming Angelo. 
 
 Isab. Can this be so ? Did Angelo so leave her ? 
 
 Duke. Left her in her tears, and dry'd not one of 
 them with his comfort ; swallowed his vows whole, 
 pretending, in her, discoveries of dishonour : in few, 
 bestowed^her on her own lamentation, which she 
 yet wears for his sake ; and he, a marble to her 
 tears, is washed with them, but relents not. 
 
 Isab. What a merit were it in death, to take this 
 poor maid from the world ! What corruption in this 
 life, that it will let this man live ! But how out of 
 this can she avail ? 
 
 Duke. It is a 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 fore-named maid hath yet in her the 
 continuance of her first affection ; his unjust un- 
 kindness, that in all reason should have quenched 
 her love, hath, like an impediment in the current, 
 
 Duke. That now vou are come, you will be <rone : made it more violent and unruly. Go you to Aiv 
 kave me a while %vith the maid ; in v mind promises e ' ! answer his requiring with a plausible obedi- 
 with my habit, no loss shall touch lier by my com- en p e i agree with his demands to the point : only 
 pany. refer' yourself to this advantage, first, that your 
 
 Prov. In good time. [Exit Provost. ! stav wl( -h him may not be long ; that the time may 
 
 Duke. The hand that hath make you fair, hahj nave au " shadow and silence in it; and the place 
 made you good : the goodness, that is cheap in ' answer to convenience : this being granted in 
 beauty, makes beauty brief in goodness; but grace, Bourse, now follows all. We shall advise this 
 being the soul of your complexion, should keep the ! wronged maid to stead up your appointment, go in 
 body of it ever fair. The assault, that Angelo hath: >' our J> lace . 5 "" tfle encounter acknowledge itself 
 made to you, fortune hath convey'd to my under- [hereafter, it may compel him to her recompense ; 
 standing; and, but that frailty hath examples forj an d here, by this, is your brother saved, your ho- 
 his falling, I should wonder at Angelo. How would nour untainted, the poor Mariana advanta'p-ed, and 
 you do to content this substitute, and to save vour tne corrupt deputy scaled.* The maid will I frame, 
 brother ? :ind make fit for his attempt. If you think well to 
 
 Isab. I am now going to resolve him: I had! carrv ln ' 3 as you may, the doubleness of the benefit 
 rather my brother die by the law, than my son defends the deceit from reproof. What think you 
 
 , 
 
 should be unlawfully born. But O, how much is 
 the good duke deceived in Angelo ! if ever he re- 
 
 of it? 
 
 The imapre of it gives me content already ; 
 
 turn, and I can speak to him, I will open my lips an( *> ' trust, it will grow to a most prosperous per- 
 in vain, or discover his government. fection. 
 
 Duke. It lies much in your holding up : hast 
 
 fnwildness. (2) Refusal. 
 
 (S) An established habit. 
 
 (4) Continue in that resolution. 
 
 (5) Betrothed. 
 
 (7) Have recourse to. 
 
 (6) Gave her up to her sorrows 
 (8) Over-reached.
 
 11MJ 
 
 MEASURE FOR MEASURE. 
 
 &t III. 
 
 fou speedily to Angela ; if for this night he entreat 
 rou to his bed, give him promise of satisfaction. I 
 will presently to St. Luke's ; there, at the moated 
 grange, 1 resides this dejected Mariana; at that 
 place call upon me; and despatch with Angelo, 
 that it may be quickly. 
 
 Isab. I thank you for this comfort : fare you well, 
 good father. [Exeunt severally. 
 
 SCENE ILThe street before the prison. Enter 
 Duke, as a friar ; to him Elbow, Clown, and 
 Officers. 
 
 Elb. Nay, if there be no remedy for it, but that 
 rou will needs buy and sell men and women like 
 beasts, we shall have all the world drink brown and 
 white bastard.* 
 
 Duke. O, heavens ! what stuff is here? 
 
 Clo. 'Twas never merry world, since, of two 
 usuries, the merriest was put down, and the worser 
 allow'd by order of law a fiirr'd gown to keep 
 him warm; and furr'd with fox and lamb-skins 
 too, to signify, that craft, being richer than inno- 
 ceucy, stands ibr the facing. 
 
 Elit. Come your way, sir: Blsss you, good fa- 
 ther friar. . 
 
 Duke. And you, good brother father : What 
 offence hath this man made you, sir ? 
 
 Lib. 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 stranje pick-lock,* which 
 we have sent to the deputy. 
 
 Dttke. Fie, sirrah ; a bawd, a wicked bawd ! 
 The evil that thou causest to be done, 
 That is thy means to live : do thou but think 
 What 'tis to cram a maw, or clothe a back, 
 From such a filthy vice : say to thyself, 
 From their abominable and beastly touches 
 I drink, I eat, array myself, and liv. 
 Canst thou believe thy living is a life, 
 So stinkiriprly depending ? Go, mend, go, mend. 
 
 Clo. Indeed, it does stink in some sort, sir ; but 
 yet, sir, I would prove 
 
 Duke. Nay, il 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 cornes 
 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 faults from seeming, free ! 
 
 Enter Lucio. 
 
 Elb. His neck will come to your, waist, a cord, 4 sir. 
 
 Cfo, I spy comfort ; I cry, bail : here's a gentle- 
 man, and a friend of mine. 
 
 Lucio. How now, noble Pompsy ? What, at the 
 heels of Cassar? Art thou led in triumph? What, 
 is there none of Pygmaliou's image, newly made 
 woman, to be had now, for putting t.h" hand in the 
 pocket, and extracting it clutch'd ? What reply ? 
 Ha ? What say'st thou to this tune, matter, and 
 method ? Is't not drown'd i' the last rain ? Ha ? 
 What say'st 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 ! 
 
 (1) A solitary farm-house. (2) A sweet wine. 
 
 13) For a Spanish padlock. 
 4} Tied like your waist with a rope. 
 
 Lucio. How doth my dear morsel, thy mistress? 
 Procures she still ? Ha ? 
 
 Clo. Troth, sir, she hath eaten up all her beef, 
 and she is herself in the tub. * 
 
 Lucio. Why, 'tis good ; it is the right of it ; it 
 must be so : ever your fresh whore, and your pow- 
 ier'd bawd : an unshunn'd consequence ; it must 
 je so : art going to prison, Pompey ? 
 
 Clo. Yes, faith, sir. 
 
 Lucio. Why, 'tis not amiss, Pompey : farewell : 
 t ; say, I sent thee thither. For debt, Pompey ? 
 Dr 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 : 
 aawd is he, doubtless, and of antiquity too ; bawd- 
 iorn. Farewell, good Pompey : commend me to 
 the prison, Pompey : you will turn good husbai-d 
 low, Pompey ; you will keep the house. 6 
 
 Clo. I hope, bir, your good worship will be my 
 bail. 
 
 LKCIO. 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. 
 
 LHCIO. Does Bridget paint still, Pompey ? Ha ? 
 
 Elb. Come your ways, sir ; come. 
 
 Clo. 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, Pornpey, go: 
 
 [Exeunt Elbow, Clown, and Officers. 
 
 What news, friar, of the duke ? 
 
 Duke. I know none : can you tell me of anv ? 
 
 Lucio. Some sav, he is with the emperor of Rus- 
 sia ; 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 begcary he was 
 never born to. Lord Angelo dukes it well in bis 
 absence ; he puts transgression to't. 
 
 Duke. He does well m'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 rice is of a great 
 kindred ; it is well ally'd : but it is impossible to 
 extfrp it quite, fiiar, till eating and drinking he put 
 down. They say, this Angelo was not made by 
 man and woman, after the downright way of crea- 
 tion : is il true, think you ? 
 
 Duke. How should he be made then ? 
 
 Lucio. Some report, a sea-maid spawn'd him : 
 Some, that he was beprot between two stock-fishes : 
 but it is certain, that when he makes water, his 
 urine is congeal'd ice ; that I know to be true : and 
 he is a motion 8 ungenerative, 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 cod-piece, to take away 
 the life of a man ? Would the duke, that is absent, 
 have done this ? Ere he would have hang'd a man 
 for the getting a hundred bastards, he would have 
 
 f 5) Powdering tub. (6} Stay at home. 
 (") Fashion. (8) Puppet.
 
 &M1W/L 
 
 MEASURE FOR MEASURE, 
 
 107 
 
 paid for th nursing a thousand : he had some feel- 
 ing of the sport ; he knew the service, and that in- 
 structed him to mercy. 
 
 Duke. I never heard the absent duke much de- 
 tected 1 for women ; he was not inclined that way. 
 
 Lucio. 0, sir, you are deceived. 
 
 Duke. 'Tis not possible. 
 
 Lucto. Who ? not the duke ? yes, your beggar of 
 fifty ; and his use was, to put a ducat in her clack- 
 dish : the duke had crotchets in him : he would be 
 drunk too ; that let me inform you. 
 
 Duke. You do him wrong, surely. 
 
 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 pr'ythee, might be the cause ? 
 
 LKCW. No, pardon ; 'tis a secret must be 
 lock'd within the teeth and the lips ; but this I can 
 let you understand, The greater file 1 of the sub- 
 ject held the duke to be wise. 
 
 Duke. Wise ? why, no question but he was. 
 
 Lucio. A very superQc'al, ignorant, unweighing 3 
 fellow. 
 
 Duke. Either this is envy in you, folly, or mis- 
 taking : the very stream of his life, and the business 
 he hath helmed, 4 must, upon a warranted need, 
 give him a better proclamation. Let him be but 
 lestimonied 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 darken'd 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. 
 
 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. O, you'hope the duke will return no more ; 
 or you imagine me too unhurtful an opposite. 1 But, 
 indeed, I can do you little harm : you'll forswear 
 this again. 
 
 Lucio. I'll be hang'd first : thou art deceived in 
 me, friar. But no more of this : can'st 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 return'd again : 
 this ungenitur'd agent will unpeople the province 
 with cointinency ; sparrows must not build in his 
 house-eaves, because they are lecherous. The duke 
 yet would have dark deeds darkly answer'd ; he 
 would never bring them to light : would he were 
 retnrn'd ! Marry, this Claudio is condemned for 
 untrussing. Farewell, good friar ; I pr'ythee, pray 
 for me. The duke, I say to thee again,"would eat 
 jnutton* on Fridays. He's now past it ; yet, and I 
 ny to thee, he would mouth with a beggar, though 
 be smelt brown bread and garlic : say, that I said 
 o. Farewell. [Exit. 
 
 (1) Suepeeted. (2) The majority of his subjects. 
 (S^ Inconsiderate. (4) Guided. '5> Opponent. 
 
 Duke. No might nor greatness m mortality 
 Can censure 'scape ; back-wounding calumny 
 The whitest virtue strikes : What king so strong, 
 Can tie the gall up in the slanderous tongue ? 
 But who comes here ? 
 
 Enter Escalus, Provost, Bawd, and Officers. 
 
 Escal. Go, away with her to prison. 
 
 Bawd. Good my lord, be good to me : your ho- 
 nour 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 tvrant. 
 
 Prov. A bawd of eleven years continuance, may 
 it please your honour. 
 
 Bawd. My lo_rd, this is one Lucio's information 
 against me: mistress Kate Keep-down was with 
 child by him in the duke's time, he promised her 
 marriage; his child is a year and a quarter old. 
 come Philip and Jacob : I'have kept it myself; and 
 sec how he goes about to abuse me. 
 
 Escal. That fellow is a fellow of much license : 
 jet him be called before us. Away with her to 
 prison : Go to ; no more words. [Exeunt Bawd and 
 Officers.] Provost, my brother Angelo will not he 
 alter'd, Claudio must die to-morrow ; let him be 
 furnished with divines, and have all charitable pre- 
 paration: if my brotner wrought by my pity, it 
 should not be so with him. 
 
 Prov. So please you, this fri.tr hath been with him, 
 and advised him for the entertainment of death. 
 
 Escal. Good even, good father. 
 
 Duke. Bliss and goodness on you ! 
 ' Escal. Of whence are you ? 
 
 Duke. Not of tin's 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 i' 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 constant 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 accurs'd : 
 much upon this riddle runs the wisdom of the world. 
 This news is old enough, yet it is every day's news. 
 I pray yon, sir, ot what disposition was the duke ? 
 
 Escal. One, that, above all other strifes, contend- 
 ed especially to know himself. 
 
 Duke. What pleasure was he given to ? 
 
 Escal. Rather rejoicing to see another merry, 
 than merry at any thing which profess'd to make 
 him rejoice ; a gentleman of all temperance. But 
 leave we him to his events, with a prayer they may 
 prove prosperous : and let me desire to know how 
 you find Claudio prepared. I am made to under- 
 stand, that you have lent him visitation. 
 
 Diike. He professes to have received no sinister 
 measures from his judge, but most willingly hum- 
 bles 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. 
 
 Escal. You have paid the heavens your function, 
 and the prisoner the very debt of your calling. I 
 have labour'd for the poor gentleman, to the ex- 
 
 (6) Have a wench. 
 (8) Satisfied. 
 
 (7) Transgress,
 
 108 
 
 MEASURE TOR MEASURE. 
 
 Act FT. 
 
 tremest shore of my modesty : but my brother jus- 
 tice hare I found so severe, that he hath forced me 
 to tell him, he is indeed justice. 
 
 Duke. If his own life answers the straitness o 
 his proceeding, it shall become him well ; wherein, 
 if he chance to fail, he hath sentenced himself. 
 
 Eical. 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 prow! 
 O, what may man within him hide, 
 Though angel on the outward side ! 
 How may likeness, 1 made 1 in crimes, 
 Making practice on the times, 
 Draw with idle spiders' strings 
 Most pond'rous 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. 
 
 ACT IV. 
 
 SCENE I. Jl room in Mariana's house. Mari- 
 ana discovered silting ; a Boy singing. 
 
 SONG. 
 Take, oh take those lips away, 
 
 That so sweetly wf.re 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 seafd in Vain, 
 
 seaFd in vain. 
 
 Man. 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. 
 
 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, 
 Mv mirth it much displeas'd, but pleas'd my VFO, 
 fouke. 'Tis good : though music oft hath such a 
 
 charm, 
 
 To make bad, good, and good provoke to harm. 
 I pray you, tell me, hath any body inquired for me 
 here to-day ? much upon this time have I promis'd 
 here to meet. 
 
 Mari. You have not been inquired after : I have 
 sat here all day. 
 
 Enter Isabella. ' 
 Duke. I do constantly believe you : The time 
 
 (1) Appearance. (2) Trained. 
 
 (S) Walled round. (4) Planked, wooden. 
 
 ; 5) Informed. (6) Waits. 
 
 is come, even now. I shall crave your forbearance 
 a little: may be, I will call upon you anon, for 
 some advantage to yourself. 
 
 JVTari. I am always bound to you. [Exit. 
 
 Duke. Very well met, and welcome. 
 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, 
 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 to call on him, 
 Upon the heavy middle of the night. 
 
 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 5 
 And that I have possess'd* him, my most stay 
 Can be but brief: for I have made him know, 
 I have a servant comes with me along^ 
 That stays upon me ; whose persuasion is, 
 I come about my brother. 
 
 Duke. '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. 
 hab. I do desire the like. 
 
 Duke. Do you persuade yourself that I respect 
 
 you ? 
 Mari. Good friar, I know you do ; and hay* 
 
 found it. 
 Duke. Take then this yt-ur companion by tht 
 
 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. place and greatness, millions of false 
 
 eyes 
 
 Are stuck upon thee ! volumes of report 
 Run with these false and most cOntrariou* quest** 
 Upon thy doings ! thousand 'scapes* of wit 
 Make thee the 'father of their idle dream, 
 And rack thee in their fancies ! Welcome ! Hbtfr 
 agreed ? 
 
 Re-enter Mariana and Isabella. 
 
 Isab. She'll take the enterprise upon her, father, 
 If vou advise it. 
 
 "Duke. It is not my consent, 
 
 But rny entreaty too. 
 
 Isab. Little have you to say, 
 
 When you depart from him, but, soft and low, 
 Remember note my brother. 
 
 Mari. Fear me not, 
 
 Diike. Nor, gentle daughter, fear you not at ill: 
 He is your husband on a pre-contract : 
 To bring you thus together, 'tis no sin ; 
 Sith 9 that the justice'of your title to him 
 Doth flourish 10 the deceit. Come, let us go ; 
 
 (7) Inquisitions, inquiries. (8) Sallie*. 
 (9) Since, (10) Gild or varnish over.
 
 MEASURE FOR MEASURE. 
 
 Our corn's to reap, for ye.t pur tithe's' to sow. 
 
 [Extunt. 
 
 SCEJV.E //. A room in the prison. Enter 
 Provost and Clown. 
 
 Prov. Come hither, sirrah: can you cut off a 
 man's head ? 
 
 Clo. If the man be a bachelor, sir, I can : but if 
 he be a married man, he is his wife's head, and I 
 can never cut ofl' 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 oflice 
 lacks a helper : if you will take it on you to assist 
 him, it shall redeem you from your gyves ; if not, 
 you shall have your full time of imprisonment, and 
 your deliverance with an unpitied whipping ; for 
 you have been a notorious bawd. 
 
 Clo. Sir. I have been an unlawful bawd, time 
 out of mina ; but yet I will be content to be a law- 
 ful hangman. I would be glad to receive some in- 
 struction from my fellow partner. 
 
 Prov. What ho, Abhorson ! Where's Abhorspn, 
 there? 
 
 Enter Abhorson. 
 
 Abhor. Do vou call, sir? 
 
 Prov. Sirrah, here's a fellow will help you to- 
 morrow in your execution : if you think him 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 
 ypu he hath been a bawd. 
 
 Abhor. A bawd, sir ? Fie upon him, he will dis- 
 credit our mystery. 1 
 
 Prov. Goto, sir; you weigh equally; a feather 
 
 will turn the scale. 
 
 [Exit. 
 
 One has my pity ; not a jot the other, 
 
 Being a murderer, though he were my brpther. 
 
 Enter Claudio. 
 Look, here's the warrant, Claudio, for thy death: 
 'Tis now dead midnight, and by eight to-morrow 
 Thoumustbe made immortal. Where's Barnardine? 
 Claud. As fast lock'd up in sleep, as guiltiest 
 
 labour 
 
 When it lies starkly' in the traveller's bones : 
 He will not wake. 
 
 Prov. Who can do good pn him? 
 
 Well, go, prepare yourself. But hark, what noise ? 
 [Knocking within. 
 Heaven give your spirits comfort ! [Exit Claudio. 
 
 By and by : 
 
 I hope it is some pardon, or reprieve, 
 For the most gentle Claudio. Welcome, father. 
 
 Enter Duke. 
 
 Duke. The best and wholesomest spirits of UM 
 
 night 
 Envelop vou, good provost ! Who call'd here of Ute ? 
 
 Prov. isone, since the curfew rune. 
 
 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 paralleled 
 Even with the stroke and line of his great justice ; 
 He doth with holy abstinence subdue 
 That in himself, which he spurs on his power 
 To qualify 8 in others : were he meal'd 9 
 With that which he corrects, then were he tyrannous; 
 But this being so, he's just. Now are they come. 
 [Knocking within Provost goei out. 
 
 Clo. Pray, sir, by your good favour (for, surely, I This is a gentle provost : Seldom, when 
 sir, a good favour* you have, but that vou have a|The steeled gaoler is the friend of men. 
 hanging look,) do you call, sir, your occupation a How now? What noise? That spirit's possess'd 
 mystery ? 
 
 Abhor. Ay, sir ; a mystery. 
 
 Clo. Painting, sir, I" have heard say, is a mys- 
 tery ; and your whores, sir, being members of my 
 occupation, using painting, do prove my occupa- 
 tion a mystery : but what mystery there should be in 
 hanging, if I should be hang'd, I cannot imagine. 
 
 with haste, 
 
 That wounds the unsisting postern with the* 
 strokes. 
 
 Provost returns, speaking to one at the door. 
 
 Abhor. Sir, it is a mystery. 
 
 Clo. Proof. 
 
 Abhor. Every true* man's apparel fits your 
 thief: if it be too little for your thief, your true "man 
 thinks it big enough; if it be too big for your thief, 
 your thief thinks it little enough : so every true 
 man's apparel fits your thief. 
 
 Re-enter Provost. 
 
 Prov. Are you agreed ? 
 
 Clo. Sir, I will serve him ; for I do find, your 
 hansrman is a more penitent trade than your bawd ; 
 he doth oftener 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. 
 
 'Clo. I do desire to learn, sir ; and, I hope, if you 
 have occasion to use me for your own turn, you 
 shall find me yare: 6 for, truly, sir, for your kind- 
 ness, I owe you a good turn. 
 
 Prov. Call hither, Barnardine and Claudio : 
 
 [Exeunt Clown and Abhorson. 
 
 fl) Tilth, land prepared for sowing. (2) Fetters. 
 (3) Trade, (4) Countenance* (5) Honest 
 
 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, 10 
 
 You something know ; yet, I believe, there cornea 
 No countermand ; no such example have we : 
 Besides, upon the very siege 11 of justice, 
 Lord Angelo hath to the public ear 
 Profess'd the contrary. 
 
 Enter a Messenger. 
 
 Duke. This is his lordship's man. 
 
 Prov. And here comes Claudio's pardon. 
 
 Mess. My lord hath sent you this note ; and by 
 me this further charge, .that you swerve not from 
 the smallest article of it, neither in time, matter, 
 nor other circumstance. Good morrow ; for, as I 
 take it, it is almost<day. 
 
 Prov. I shall obey Him. [Exit Messenger. 
 
 Duke. This is his pardon ; purchased by such 
 sin, [Aside, 
 
 (6) Ready. 
 (9) Defiled. 
 
 (7) Stiffly. (8) Moderate, 
 (10) Perhapi, Jll) Seat,
 
 &IEASUBE FOR MEASCEE, 
 
 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: 1 melhinks, strangely; for 
 he hath not used It before. 
 
 Duki. Pray you, let's hear. 
 
 Prov. [Reads.] Whatsoever you may hear to 
 the contrary, let Claudia be executed by four of 
 the dock ; and, in the afternoon, Barnardine : 
 for my better satisfaction, let me have Claudia?* 
 head sent me by fife. Let this be duly performed ; 
 with a thought, that more depends on it than we 
 must yet deliver. Thus fail not to do your cffict, 
 as you will answer it at your peril. 
 What say you to this, sir? 
 
 Duke. What is that Barnardine, who is to be 
 executed in the afternoon ? 
 
 Prov. A Bohemian born ; but here nursed up 
 ind bred: one that is a prisoner nine years old.* 
 
 Duke. How came it, that the absent duke had 
 not either deliver'd 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 govern- 
 ment of lord Angelo, came not to an uiiaoubtful 
 proof. 
 
 Duke . Is it now apparent ? 
 
 Prov. Most manifest, and not denied by himself. 
 
 Duke. Hath he borne himself penitently in 
 prison ? How seems he to be touch'd ? 
 
 Prop. A man that apprehends death no more 
 dreadfully, but as a drunken sleep ; careless, reck- 
 less, and fearless of what's past, present, or to 
 come : insensible of mortality, and desperately 
 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 
 often awaked him, as if to carry him to execution, 
 and show'd him a seeming warrant, for it : it hath 
 not mov'd 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 ; 
 bnt in the boldness of my cunning, I will lay my- 
 self in hazard. Claudio, whom here you have a 
 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 ? havinj the hour 
 limited ; and an express command, under penalty, 
 to deliver his head in the view of Angeio i I may 
 make my case as Claudio's, to cross this in the 
 smallest. 
 
 Duke. By the vow of mine order, I warrant you, 
 if my instructions may be your guide. Let this 
 Barnardine be this morning executed, and his head 
 be borne to Angelo. 
 
 Prov. Angelo hath seen them both, and will 
 discover the favour.' 
 
 Duke. 0, death's a Treat disguuer: 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 
 
 to you up 
 me, by th 
 
 on this, more 
 
 uaicu ut-iwtt. uia libiikji , r< 
 
 common. If any thing fall 
 
 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 th 
 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 'I 
 
 Prm. But what likelihood is in that? 
 
 Duke. Not a resemblance, but a certainty. Yet 
 si-rice I see you fearful, that neither my coat, in- 
 tegrity, nor my persuasion, can with ease attempt 
 you, I will go lurther than I meant, to pluck all 
 fears out of you. Look^'ou, 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. 
 
 Prof. I know them Doth. 
 
 Duke. The contents of this is the return of the 
 duke ; you shall anon over-read it at your plea- 
 sure ; Avhere you shall find, within these two days 
 he will be here. This is a thing, that Angelo 
 knows not : for he this very day receives letters of 
 .strange tenor ; perchance, of the duke's death ; 
 perchance, entering into some monasterv ; but, by 
 chance, nothing of what is writ. Look, the un 
 folding star calls up the shepherd: put not your- 
 self 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. [Ex'eunt. 
 
 SCJ\TE ///. Another room in the samt. Enter 
 Clown. 
 
 Clo. I am as well acquainted here, as I was in our 
 house of profession : one would think, it were mis- 
 tress Over-done's own house, for here be many of 
 her old customers. First, here's young master Rash: 
 he's in for a commodity of brown paper and old 
 ginger, ninescore and seventeen pounds ; of which 
 he made five marks, ready money : marry, then, 
 ginger was not much in request, for the old" women 
 were all dead. Then is there here one master Ca- 
 per, at the suit of master Three-pile the mercer, for 
 some four suits of peach-colour' d satin, which now 
 peaches him a beggar. Then have we 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 kill'd 
 lusty Pudding, and master Forthright the tiller, and 
 brave master Shoe-tie the great traveller, and wild 
 Half-cann that Btabb'd Pots, and, I think, forty 
 more ; all great doers in our trade, and are now for 
 the Lord's sake. 
 
 Enter Abhorson. 
 
 (I) Spur, inciteiMfiti (2) Nine years in pritpn. 
 
 Mhor. Sirrah, bring Barnardine hither. 
 
 Clo. Master Barnardine ! you must rise and be 
 han<r'd, master Barnardine. 
 
 Jlbhor. What, ho, Barnardine ! 
 
 Barnar. [ Within.] A pox o' your throats ! Who 
 makes that noise there? What are you? 
 
 Clo. Your friends, sir ; the hangman : yxm must 
 
 (3) Countenance
 
 Jfcme 111 
 
 MEASURE FOR MEASURE. 
 
 be so good, sir, to rise and be put to death. 
 
 Baniar. [Wit kin.] Away, you rogue, away ; I 
 *m sleepy. 
 
 Abhor. Tell him, he must awake, and that 
 quickly too. 
 
 Clo. Pray, master Barnardine, awake till you are 
 executed, and sleep afterwards. 
 
 Jibhor. Go in to him, and fetch him out. 
 
 Clo. He is coming, sir, he is coming ; I hear his 
 straw rustle. 
 
 Enter Barnardine. 
 
 .Ibkor. Is the axe upon the block, sirrah? 
 
 Clo. Very ready, sir. 
 
 Barnar. ^How now, Abhorson ? what's the news 
 with you 7 
 
 Abhor. Truly, sir, I would desire you to clap 
 into your prayers; for, look you, the warrant's come. 
 
 Barnar. You rogue, I nave been drinking all 
 night, I am not fitted for't. 
 
 Clo. O, the better, sir ; for he that drinks all 
 night, and is hang'd betimes in the uwrning, may 
 sleep the sounder all the next day. 
 
 Enter Duke. 
 
 . Ibhor. Look you, sir, here comes your ghostly 
 father ; do we jest now, think you ? 
 
 Duke. Sir, induced by my charity, and hearing 
 how hastily you are to depart, I am come to advise 
 you, comfort you, and pray with you. 
 
 Barnar. Friar, not I ; I have been drinking hard 
 all night, and I will have more time to prepare me, 
 or they shall beat out mv brains with billets : I will 
 not consent to die this day, that's certain. 
 
 Duke. O, sir, you must : and therefore, I be- 
 seech you, 
 Look forward on the journey you shrill go. 
 
 Barnar. I swear, I will not die to-day for any 
 man's persuasion. 
 
 Duke. But hear you, 
 
 Barnar. Not a word ; if you hare any thing to 
 say to me, come to my ward ; for thence will not I 
 to-day. [Exit. 
 
 Enter Provost. 
 
 Duke. Unfit to live, or die : O, gravel heart! 
 After him, fellows ; bring him to the block. 
 
 [Exeunt Abhorson and Clown. 
 
 Prov. Now, sir, how do you find the prisoner ? 
 
 Duke. A creature unprcpar'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 5 his beard, and head, 
 Just of his colour : What if we do omit 
 This reprobate, till he were well inclin'd ; 
 isre 
 
 yen provides ! 
 Despatch it presently ; the hour draws on 
 Prehx'd by Angelo : See, this be done. 
 And sent according to command ; whiles I 
 Persuade this rude wretch willingly to die. 
 
 Prov. This shall be done, good father, presently. 
 But Barnardine must die this afternoon : 
 And how shall we continue Claudio, 
 To save me from the danger that might come, 
 If he were known alive? 
 
 Duke. Let this be done : Put them in secret 
 holds, 
 
 (I) The antipodes, (2) Your heart's desire, 
 
 | Both Barnardine and Claudio : Ere twte 
 The sun hath made his journal greeting to 
 The under generation, 1 you shall find 
 Your safety manifested. 
 
 Prov. I am your free dependant. 
 
 Duke. Quick, despatch, 
 
 And send the head to Angelo. [Exil Provost. 
 
 Now will I write letters to Angdo, 
 The provost, he shall bear them, whose contents 
 Shall witness to him, I am near at home ; 
 And that, by great injunctions, I am bound 
 To enter pubhclv : him I'll desire 
 To meet me at the consecrated fount, 
 A league below the city ; and from thence, 
 By cold gradation and weal-balanced form. 
 We shall proceed with Angelo. 
 
 Re-enter Provost. 
 
 Prov. Here is the head ; I'll carry it myself. 
 
 Duke. Convenient is it: Make a "swift return; 
 For I would commune with you of such things, 
 That want no ear but yours. 
 
 Prov. I'll 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 : 
 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. 
 
 Tsab. 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 pa- 
 tience. 
 
 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 Heaveo, 
 Mark what I say ; which you shall tind, 
 By every syllable, a faithful verity : 
 The duke comes home to-morrow ; nay, dry your 
 
 eyes; 
 
 One of our convent, and his confessor, 
 Gives me this instance : Already he hath carried 
 Notice to Escalus and Angelo ; 
 Who do prepare to meet him at the gates, 
 There to give up their power. If you can, pace 
 
 your wisdom 
 
 In that good path that I would wish it go ; 
 And you shall have your bosom 2 on this wretch, 
 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 : 
 Sar, by this token, I desire his company 
 At Mariana's house to night. Her cause, and yours 
 I'll perfect him withal ; and he shall bring rou 
 Before, the duke ; and to the head of Angelo 
 Accuse him home, and home, For my poor sett,
 
 MEASURE FOR MEASURE. 
 
 Act f 
 
 I am combined by a sacred vow, 
 And shall be absent Wend 1 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. 
 
 Lucto. Good even ! 
 
 Friar, where is the provost ? 
 
 Duke. Not within, sir. 
 
 Lucio. O, pretty Isabella, I am pale at mine 
 heart, to see thine eves so red : thou must be pa- 
 
 The law against it ! But that her tender shame 
 
 Will not proclaim against her maiden loaf 
 
 How might she tongue me? Yet reason dare* 
 
 Her ? no : 
 
 For my authority bears a credent' bulk, 
 That no particular scandal once can touch, 
 But itconfoundsthe breather.* He should haveliv'd, 
 Save that his riotous youth, with dangerous sense, 
 Might, in the times to come, have ta'en revenge, 
 By so receiving a dishonour'd life, 
 With ransom of such shame. 'Would yet be 
 
 had liv'd ! 
 
 tient; I am fain to dine and sup with water and| Alack, when once our grace we have forgot 
 bran ; I dare not for rny head fill my belly ; one Nothing goes right ; we would and we. would not 
 
 fruitful meal would set me to't : But they say the 
 duke will be here to-morrow. By my troth, Isabel, 
 I lov'd 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 beholden 
 to your reports ; but the best is, he lives not in them. 
 
 Lucio. Friar, thou knowest not the duke so well 
 a* I do : he's a better woodman than thou takest 
 him for. 
 
 Duke. Well, you'll answer this one day. Fare 
 ye well. 
 
 Lucio. Nay, tarry I'll go along with thee ; I 
 can tell thee pretty tales of the duke. 
 
 Duke. You have told me too many of him al- 
 
 ready, 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 thin<r ? 
 
 [Exit. 
 
 Enter 
 Duke in his own habit, and Friar Peter. 
 
 Duke. These letters at fit time deliver me. 
 
 [Giving letttri. 
 
 The provost knows our purpose, and our plot. 
 The matter being afoot, keep your instruction, 
 And hold you ever to our special drift ; 
 Though sometimes you do blench" from this to that 
 As caus; doth minister. Go, call at Flaviug' 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. 
 
 F. Peter. 
 
 It shall be speeded well. 
 [Exit Friar. 
 Enter Varrius. 
 
 Duke. I thank thee, Varrius; thou hast made 
 w - - D good haste 
 
 Lucio. Yes, marry, did I: Trot was fain to for-: Co we will walk: There's other of our friends 
 swear it -they would else have married me to the j \ V ill greet us here anon, my gentle Varriiu. [Eye. 
 
 rotten medlar. 
 
 Duke. Sir. your company is fairer than honest : 
 Rest you well. 
 
 Lucio. By my troth, I'll go with thee to the 
 lane's end : If bawdy talk offend you, we'll have 
 rerv little of it : Nay, friar, I am a kind of burr, I 
 hall stick. [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE IV. Jl room in Angelo's house. Enter 
 Angelo and Escalus. 
 
 Escal. Every letter he hath writ hath dis- 
 Touch'd 1 other. 
 
 Jlni*. 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 re-deliver our authorities there ? 
 
 Escal. I guess not. 
 
 -.ing. And why should we proclaim it in an hour 
 before his entering, that if any crave redress of injus- 
 tice, they should exhibit their petitions in the street ? 
 
 Escal. He shows his reason for that : to have a 
 despatch of complaints ; and to deliver us from 
 devices hereafter, which shall then have no power 
 to stand against us. 
 
 Jlng. Well, I beseech you, let it be proclaim'd : 
 Betimes i' the morn, I'll call you at your house : 
 Give notice to such men of sort and suit, 1 
 As are to meet him. 
 
 Escal. I shall, sir : fare you well. [Exit. 
 
 Jlng. Good night. 
 This deed unshapes me quite, makes me unpreg- 
 
 nant. 
 
 And dull to all proceedings. A deflower'd maid ! 
 And by an eminent body, that enforc'd 
 
 il) Go. (2) Contradicted. (3) Figure and rank. 
 4) Calls, challenges her to do it. 
 6) Credit unquestionable. (6) Utterer. 
 
 SCENE VL 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 8 purpose. 
 
 Mari. Be rul'd bv him. 
 
 Isab. Besides, he tells me, that, if peradventure 
 He speak against me on the adverse side, 
 ! should not think it strange : for 'tis a physic, 
 That's bitter to sweet end. 
 
 Jtfari. I would, friar Peter, 
 
 Isab. O, peace ; the friar it come. 
 
 Enter Friar Peter. 
 
 F. Peter. Come, I have found you out a stand 
 
 most fit, 
 
 Where you may have such vantage* on the duke, 
 He shall not pass you : Twice have the trumpets 
 
 sounded; 
 
 The generous 10 and gravest citizens 
 Have hent 11 the gates, and very near upon 
 The duke is ent'ring; therefore' hence, away.[ce. 
 
 ACT V. 
 
 '<CENE I. .9 public place near the city gat. 
 Mariana (veiled,) Isabella, and Peter, al a rfw- 
 tance. Enter at opposite doors, Duke, Varriu*, 
 Lords; Ansrelo, Escalus, Lucio, Provost, Offi- 
 cers, and Citizens. 
 
 Duke. My very worthy cousin, fairly met :- 
 
 (7) Start off. (8) Availful. (9) Adwntan, 
 (10) Most noble, (i n Seized,
 
 Seoul. 
 
 MEASURE FOR MEASUKK. 
 
 113 
 
 .Jur old and faithful friend, we are glad to see you. | In all his dressings,* characts, titles, forms, 
 /Ing. Sf Escal. Happy return be to your royal Be an arch- villain : believe it, royal prince, 
 
 jrrace ! 
 
 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 
 
 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. 
 
 Prior Peter and Isabella come forward. 
 
 F. Peter. Now is your time ; speak loud, and 
 kneel before him. 
 
 Isab. Justice, O, royal duke ! Vail 1 your regard 
 Upon a wrong'd, I'd fain have said, a maid ! 
 worthy prince, dishonour not your eye 
 By throwing it on any other object, 
 Till you have heard me in my true complaint, 
 And give me, justice, justice, justice, justice ! 
 
 Duke. Relate vour wrongs: In what? By whom? 
 
 Be brief: 
 
 Here is lord Angelo shall give you justice ; 
 Reveal yourself to him. 
 
 Isab. 0, 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, 
 nere. 
 
 9ng. My lord, her wits, I fear me, are not firm : 
 She hath been a suitor to me fur her brother, 
 Cut off by course of justice. 
 
 Isab. ' By course of justice ! 
 
 .ing-. And she will speak' most bitterly, and 
 strange. 
 
 Isab. Most strange, but yet most truly, will I 
 
 speak : 
 
 That Angelo's forsworn ; is it not strange 7 
 That Angelo's a murderer ; is't not strange ? 
 That Angelo is an adulterous thief, 
 A hypocrite, a vinrin-violator : 
 Is it not strange, and strange ? 
 
 Duke. 
 
 Nay, 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'thc end of reckoning, 
 
 Duke. 
 
 Away with her .-Poor soul, 
 
 She speaks this in the infirmity of sense. 
 
 Isao. O prince, I c6njure 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 im- 
 possible 
 
 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. 
 
 0, gracious dufce, 
 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 
 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 it. 
 
 Isab. This gentleman told somewhat of my tale. 
 
 Lucio. Right. ' 
 
 Duke. It may be right ; but you are in the wrong 
 
 To speak before your time. Proceed. 
 
 I went 
 
 Isab. 
 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 3 me, and how I reply'd.; 
 (For this was of much length,) the vile conclusion 
 I now be^in with grief and shame to utter : 
 He would not, but by gift of my chaste body 
 To his concupiscible intemperate lust, 
 Release my brother ; and, after much debatement, 
 My sisterly remorse* confutes mine honour, 
 And I did yield to him : But the next morn betimes, 
 His purpose surfeiting, he sends a warrant 
 For my poor brother's head. 
 
 Duke. This is most likely ! 
 
 Isab. 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 : c First, his integrity 
 That which but seems unlike: 'tis not impos-; Standswithoutblem j sh . nex t, it imports no reason, 
 
 S A: ) i j, , That with such vehemcncy he should pursue 
 
 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, 
 
 I Faults proper to himself: "if he had so offended, 
 He would have weigh'd thy brother by himself, 
 And not havecut him off: Some one hath set you on : 
 
 lii 
 
 1) Lower. (2) Habits and characters of office. 
 3) Refuted. (4) Pity, (5) Foolish, 
 
 (6) Conipirtcy, 
 P
 
 114 
 
 MEASURE FOR MEASURE. 
 
 Confess the truth, and say by whose advice 
 Thou cam'st here to complain. 
 
 hob. And is this all? 
 
 Then, oh, 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 
 
 wo, 
 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. 
 
 Are you a maid / 
 
 No, my lord. 
 
 Duke. 
 
 .Mart. 
 
 Duke. A widow then ? 
 
 Jtfari. Neither, my lord. 
 
 Duke. Why, yo 
 
 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. 
 
 J\Iari. My lord, I do confess I ne'er was married ; 
 And, I confess, besides, I am no maid : 
 I have known my husband ; yet my husband know* 
 not, 
 
 That ever he knew me. 
 
 Lucio. He was drunk then, my lord ; it can be 
 no better. 
 
 Duke. For the benefit of silence, 'svould thou 
 wert so too. 
 
 Lucio. Well, my lord. 
 
 Duke. This is no witness for lord Angelo. 
 
 Jtfari. Now I come to't, my lord: 
 
 Duke. A. ghostly father, belike : Who knows 
 thatLodo wick ? 
 
 Lucio. My lord, I know him ; 'tis a meddling friar; 
 1 do not like the man : had he been lay, my lord, 
 For certain words he spake against your grace 
 In your retirement, I had swing'd 1 him soundly. 
 
 Duke. Words against me ? This' a good friar, 
 
 belike ! 
 
 And to set on this wretched woman here 
 Against our substitute ? Let this friar be found. (She, that accuses him of fornication, 
 
 Lucio. But yesternight, my lord, she and that, In self-same manner doth accuse my husband; 
 
 friar (And charges him, my lord, with such a time, 
 
 I saw them at the prison : a saucy friar, vvh.n in ri. <a ,, T >. v,: : .;,-.., -.., 
 
 A rerv scurry fellow. 
 
 F. "Peter. 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 ungoL 
 
 Duke. We did believe no less. 
 
 Know you that friar Lodowick, that she speaks of? 
 
 F. Peter. I know him for a man divine and holy ; 
 Not scurvy, nor a temporary meddler, 
 
 As he's reported by this gentleman ; 
 And, on my trust, a man that never yet 
 Did, as he vouches, misreport your grace. 
 
 Lucio. My lord, most villanously ; believe it. 
 
 F. Ptttr. 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 2 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. 3 First, for this woman 
 (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? 
 O heaven ! the vanity of wretched fools ! 
 Give us some seats. Come, cousin Angelo ; 
 In this I'll be impartial ; be you judge 
 Of your own cause. Is this the witness, friar ? 
 First, let her show her face ; and, after speak. 
 Mari. Pardon, my lord ; I will not show my face, 
 
 Until my husband bid me. 
 
 Duke. 
 
 JSari. No, my lord. 
 
 What, are you married ? 
 
 1) Beat. (J) Simplt, 
 4) PabUcly, 
 
 (3) Convened. 
 
 When I'll depose I had him in mine arms, 
 With all the effect of love. 
 
 tfng. Charges she more than me ? 
 
 Man. Not that I know. 
 
 Duke. No ? you say, your husband. 
 
 Man. 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. 
 
 .ing-. This is a strange abuse : " Let's see thy 
 face. 
 
 Man. 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 imagm'd person. 
 
 Duke. Know you this woman ? 
 
 Lucio. Carnally, she says. 
 
 Duke. Sirrah, no more. 
 
 Lucio. Enough, my lord. 
 
 .inj. My lord, I must confess, I know this wo- 
 man ; 
 And, five years since, there was some speech of 
 
 marriage 
 
 Betwixt myself and her ; which was broke off, 
 Partly, for that her promised proportions 
 Came short of composition ; 6 hut, in chief, 
 For that her reputation was disvalued 
 In levity : since which time of five years, 
 I never spake with her, saw her, nor heard from hei, 
 Upon my faith and honour. 
 
 Mori. Noble prince, 
 
 As there comes light from heaven, and words frorc. 
 
 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 his garden-houtt, 
 He knew me as a wife : As this is true 
 Let me in safety raise me from my knees ; 
 
 Deception, (6) Her fortua* ffl tbort.
 
 Setnel. 
 
 MEASURE FOR MEASURE. 
 
 115 
 
 Or else for ever be confixed here, 
 A marble monument ! 
 
 Jing . 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 1 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. Av, with my heart ; 
 
 And punish them unto vour height of pleasure. 
 Thou foolish friar ; and thou pernicious woman. 
 Compact Avith 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 sealed in approbation? You, lord Escalus," 
 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. 
 
 F. Peter. Would he were hese, 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 wh'ile 
 Will leave you; but stir not you, till you hare 
 
 well 
 Determined upon these slanderers. 
 
 Escal. My lord, we'll do it thoroughly. [Exit 
 Duke.] Senior Lucio, did not you say, you knew 
 
 that friar Lodowick to be a dishonest person ? 
 
 Lucio. Cucullus nonfacitmonacfnim: honest in 
 nothing, but in his clothes ; and one that hath spoke! 
 most villanous speeches of the duke. 
 
 Escal. How! know you where vou are? 
 
 Duke. Respect to your great place ! and let the 
 
 devil 
 
 Be some time honourM 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. 
 
 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, 
 Tccall him villain? 
 
 And then to glance from him to the duke himself; 
 To tax him with injustice ? Take him hence ; 
 To the rack with him: We'll touze you joint by 
 
 joint, 
 
 But we will know this 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. 
 
 . What can you vouch against him, signior 
 Lucio ? 
 
 Escal. We shall entreat you to abide here till j Is this the man that you did tell us of? 
 he come, and enforce them'awainst him : we shall j Lucio. 'Tis he, mv lord. C ome hither, goodman 
 find this friar a notable fellow. ibald-pate: Do you know me? 
 
 'Lucio. As any in Vienna, on mv word. i Duke. I remember you, sir, by the sound of your 
 
 Escal. Call that same Isabel here once again ; ' voice : I met you at the prison, in the absence of 
 [To an attendant.] I would speak with her : Prav'the duke. 
 
 you, my lord, give me leave to question ; you shall 
 eee how I'll handle her. 
 
 Lucio. Not better than he, by her own report. 
 
 Etcal. Say you ? 
 
 Lucio. Marry, sir, I think, if vou handled her 
 privately, she would sooner confess ; perchance, 
 publicly she'll be ashamed. 
 
 Rt-tnltr Officers, icith Isabella; the Duke, in the 
 friar's habit, and Provost 
 
 Lucio. O, did you so? And do you remember 
 what vou said of the duke? 
 
 Duke. Most notedly, sir. 
 
 Lucio. Do you so, s'ir ? And was the duke a flesh- 
 monger, 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. O thou damnable fellow ! Did not I pluck 
 thee bv the nose, for thy speeches ? 
 
 Eseal. I will go darkly to work with her. Duke. I protest I love the duke, as I love myself. 
 
 Lucio. That's the way ; for women are light at ,1n%. Hark! how the villain would close nowj 
 midnight. after his treasonable abuses. 
 
 Escal. Come on, mistress: [To Isabella.] here's Escal. Such a fellow b not to be talk'd withal: 
 
 a gentlewoman denies all that you have said. Away with him to prison : Where is the provost ? 
 
 Lucio. My lord, here comes" the rascal I spoke j Away with him to prison; lay bolts enough upon 
 of: here, with the provost. him: lot him speak no more'. Away with those 
 
 Escal. In very good time: =peak not you to'giglots 8 too, and with the other confederate com- 
 him, till we call upon you. ipanion. [The Provost lays hands on the Duke. 
 
 Lucio. Mum. j Duke. Stay, sir ; stay a while. 
 
 Ecal. Come, sir: Did you set these women on; .Ins:. What! resists he? Help him, Lucio. 
 to slander lord Angelo? they have confess'd you| Lucio. Come, sir; come, sir; come, sir; foh, 
 aW . sir : Why, you bald-pated, lying rascal ! vou muat 
 
 Duke. Tia false. be hooded, must you ? Show your knave's visage, 
 
 fl) Crazy, (2) Conspiracr. '3) Tn h end. 
 
 M) Refer back. (5) Accountable, (6) Wanton*,
 
 MEASURE FOR MEASURE. 
 
 Jtttf 
 
 with a pox to you ! show your sheep-biting face, 
 and be hang'd an hour ! Will't not off? 
 
 [Pulls off the friar's hood, and discovers 
 
 the Duke. 
 Duke. Thou art the first knave, that e'er made 
 
 a duke. 
 
 First, provost, let me bail these gentle three :- 
 Sneak not away, sir ; [To Lucio.] for the friar and 
 
 you 
 
 Must have a word anon : lay hold on him. 
 Lucio. This may prove worse than hanging. 
 Duke. What you have spoke, I pardon ; sit you 
 
 down. [To Escalus. 
 
 We'll borrow place of him : Sir, by your leave : 
 
 [To Angelo. 
 
 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. 
 
 -ing. my dread lord, 
 
 I should be guiltier than my g-uiltincss, 
 To think I can be undiscernible, 
 When I perceive, your grace, like power divine, 
 Hath look'd upon my passes : * Then, good prince, 
 No longer session hold upon my shame, 
 But let my trial be mine own confession ; 
 Immediate sentence then, and sequent 3 death, 
 Is all the grace I beg. 
 
 Duke . Come hither, Mariana : 
 
 Say, wast thou e'er contracted to this woman ? 
 ting. I was, my lord. 
 
 Duke. Go, take her hence, and marry her in- 
 stantly. 
 
 Do you the office, friar ; which consummate, 
 Return him here again : Go with him, provost. 
 
 [Exeunt Angelo, Mariana, Peter, and Provost., . . _, _, 
 
 Escal. My lord, I cm more amaz'd at his dis-l Dttkr. Against all sense 6 do you importune her : 
 
 honour, Should she kneel down, in mercy of this fact, 
 
 Than at the strangeness of it. Her brother's ghost his paved bed would break, 
 
 Duke. Come hither, Isabel 
 
 Of sacred chastity, and of promise-breach. 
 
 Thereon dependant, for your brother's life,) 
 
 The very mercy of the law cries out 
 
 Most audible, even from his proper 5 tongue, 
 
 Jin Angela for Claudia, death for death. 
 
 Haste still pays haste, and leisure answers leisure ; 
 
 Like doth quit like, and Measure still for Measure. 
 
 Then, Angelo. thy fault's thus manifested : 
 
 Which though thou would'st deny, denies tha* 
 
 vantage : 
 
 We do condemn thee to the very block 
 Where Claudio stoop'd to death, and with like 
 
 haste ; 
 Away with him. 
 
 Mart. O, 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 fife, 
 And choke your good to come : for his possessions 
 Although by confiscation they are ours, 
 We do instate and widow you withal, 
 To buy you a better husband. 
 
 Mori. O, my dear lord, 
 
 I crave no other, nor no better man. 
 
 Duke. Never crave him ; we are definitive. 
 
 Jfari. Gentle my liege, [Kneeling. 
 
 Duke. 'You do but lose your labour : 
 
 Away with him to death. Now, sir, [To Lucio.] 
 to you. 
 
 .Vari. O, my good lord! Sweet Isabel, take 
 
 my part ; 
 
 Lend me your knees, and all my life to come 
 I'll lend you, all mv life to do you service. 
 
 Your friar is now vour prince : As I was then 
 Advertising, 4 and holy to your business, 
 Not changing hmrt 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. Ion are pardon'd, Isabel : 
 
 And now, dear maul, be you as free to us. 
 Your brother's death, I know, sits at your heart ; 
 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: O, most kind maid, 
 It was the swift celerity of his death, 
 Which I did think with slower foot came on, 
 That brain'd my purpose : But, peace be with him ! 
 That life is better life, past fearing death, 
 Than that which lives to fear: make it your comfort, 
 So happy is your brother. 
 
 Re-enter Angelo, Mariana, Peter, and Provost. 
 
 Isab. 
 
 I do, my lord. 
 
 Duke. For this new-married man, approaching 
 
 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 
 
 tt) Service. (2) Devices. (3) Following, 
 (4) Attentive, (5) Angdo's own tongue. 
 
 And take her hence in horror. 
 
 J\Iari. Isabel, 
 
 Sweet Isabel, do yet but kneel by me ; 
 Hold up your hands, say nothing, I'll speak all. 
 They say, best men arc 'moulded out of faults ; 
 And, for the most, become much more the better 
 For being a little bad : so may my husband. 
 0, Isabel ! will you not lend a knee? 
 
 Dv.ke. He dies for Claudio's death. 
 
 Isab. Most bounteous sir, 
 
 [Kneeling. 
 
 Look, if it please vou, on this man condemn'd, 
 As if my brother fiv'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. 
 
 Jlfart. Merely, my lord. 
 
 Duke. Your suit's unprofitable fst.iridup, I sav. 
 I 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 ? 
 
 Proc. No, my good lord ; it was by private mes- 
 sage. 
 
 Duke, For which I do discharge you of your oflico 
 
 (6) Reason and affection.
 
 Scent I. 
 
 MEASURE FOR MEASURE. 
 
 117 
 
 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 reserv'd alive. 
 
 Duke. What's he ? 
 
 Prov. His name is Barnardine. 
 
 Duke. I would thou had'st done so by Claudio. 
 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. 
 
 dng. 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. 
 
 Jte-enter Provost, Barnardine, Claudio, and Juliet. 
 
 Diike. 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 condemn'd; 
 But. for those early 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, thnt I say'd, 
 That should have died when Claudio lost his head ; 
 As like almost to Claudio, as himself. 
 
 [Unmuffles Claudio. 
 
 Duke. If he be like your brother, [To Isabella.] 
 
 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. 
 Bv this, lord Angelo perceives he's safe: 
 Methinks, I see a quickening in his eye : 
 Well, Angelo, your evil quits 2 you well : 
 Look that you" love your wife; her worth, worth 
 
 yours. 
 
 I find an apt remission in myself: 
 And yet here's one in place I cannot pardon ; 
 You, sirrah, [To Lucio.] that knew me for a fool, 
 
 a coward, 
 
 One all of luxury, 5 an ass, a madman ; 
 Wherein have I so descrv'd of you, 
 That you extol me thus ? 
 
 Lucio. 'Faith, my lord, I spoke it but according 
 to the trick :* If you will hang- me for it, you may", 
 but I had rather it would please you, I might be 
 whipp'd. 
 
 Duke. Whipp'd 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 nnish'd, 
 
 Let him be whipp'd 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 recom- 
 pense me, in making me a cuckold. 
 
 Duke. Upon mine honour, thou shalt marry her. 
 Thy slanders I forgive ; and therewithal 
 Remit thy other forfeits : 6 Take him to prison : 
 And see our pleasure herein executed. 
 
 Liicio. Marrying a punk, my lord, is pressing to 
 death, whipping, and hanging. 
 
 Duke. Sland'ring a prince deserve* it. 
 She, Claudio, that you wrong'd, look you restore. 
 Joy to you, Mariana ! love-her, Angelo ; 
 I have coniess'd her, and I know her virtue. 
 Thanks, good friend Escal us,for thy much goodness: 
 There's more behind, that is more gratulate.' 
 Thanks, provost, for thy care, and secrecy ; 
 We shall employ thee in a worthier place : 
 Forgive him, Angelo, that brought you home 
 The head of Ragozine for Claudio's ; 
 The offence pardons itself. Dear Isabel, 
 I have a motion much imports your good ; 
 Whereto if you'll a willing ear incline, 
 What's mine is yours, and what is yours is mine : 
 So, bring us to our palace ; where we'll show 
 What's yet behind, that's meet you all should know. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 Consideration. 
 Incontinence. 
 
 (2) Requites. 
 (4) Thoughtless practice. 
 
 The nove;l of Giraldi Cinthio, from which Shak- 
 speare is supposed to have borrowed this fable, 
 may be read in Shakspeare Illustrated, elegantly 
 translated, with remarks which will assist the in- 
 quirer to discover how much absurdity Shakspeare 
 has admitted or avoided. 
 
 I cannot but suspect that some other had new- 
 modelled the novel of Cinthio, or written a story 
 which in some particulars resembled it, and tha't 
 Cinthio was not the author whom Shakspeare im- 
 mediately followed. The emperor in Cinthio is 
 named Maximize : the duke, in Shakspeare's enu- 
 meration of the persons of the drama, is called Vin- 
 centio. This appears a very slight remark; but 
 since the duke has no name in the play, nor is ever 
 mentioned but by his title, why should he be called 
 Vincentio among the persons, but because the name 
 was copied from the story, and placed superflu- 
 ously at the head of the list, by the mere habit of 
 transcription ? It. is therefore likely that there was 
 then a story of Vincentio duke of Vienna, different 
 from that of Maxirninc emperor of the Romans. 
 
 Of tin's play, the light or comic part is very natu- 
 ral and pleasing, but the grave scenes, if a few pas<- 
 ^acres be exeepted, have more labour than elegance. 
 
 how much, must have elapsed between the recess 
 of the duke and the imprisonment of Claudio ; for 
 he must have learned the story of Mariana in his 
 disguise, or he delegated his power to a man al- 
 ready known to be corrupted. The unities of action 
 and place are sufficiently preserved. 
 
 JOHNSON. 
 
 (5) Punishments. 
 
 (6) To reward.
 
 ( 118 ) 
 
 MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. 
 
 PERSONS REPRESENTED. 
 
 Don Pedro, Prince of l rragon. |.f Sexton. 
 
 Don John, his bastard brother. \Ji Friar. 
 
 Claudio, a young lord of Florence, favourite to yi Boy. 
 
 Don Pedro. 
 Benedick, a yoitng lord of Padua, favourite Kfce'jHero, dMtghter to Leonato. 
 
 wise of Don Pedro. Beatrice, niece to Leonato. 
 
 of 
 
 Leonato, governor of .Messina. 
 Antonio, his brother. 
 Balthazar, servant to Don Pedro. 
 
 two foolish officers. 
 
 Ursula 1 * 1 ' } fi" en " ew<>HI < n fl"Kff on Hero. 
 Messengers, watch, and attendants. 
 
 Scene, .\lcssina. 
 
 ACT I. 
 
 SCENE /. Before Leonato's house. Enter Leo- 
 nato, Hero, Beatrice, and others, with a Mes- 
 senger. 
 
 Leonato. 
 
 I LEARN in this letter, that Don Pedro of Arra- 
 gon, comes this niirht to Messina. 
 
 Mess. He is very near by this ; he was not three 
 leagues off when I left him. 
 
 Leon. How many gentlemen have you lost in 
 this action ? 
 
 Jtfess. But few of any sort, 1 and none of name. 
 
 Leon. A victory is twice itself, when the achiever 
 brings home full' numbers. I find here, that Don 
 Pedro hath bestowed much honour on a young 
 Florentine, called Claudio. 
 
 Mess. Much deserved on his part, and equally 
 remembered by Don Pedro : he hath borne him- 
 self beyond the promise of his age ; doing, in the 
 figure of a lamb, the feats of a lion : he hath, in- 
 deed, better bettered expectation, than you must 
 expect of me to tell you how. 
 
 Leon. He hath an uncle here in Messina will be 
 verv much glad of it. 
 
 Mess. I have already delivered him letters, and 
 there appears much joy in him ; even so much, 
 that joy could not show itself modest enough, with- 
 out a badsre of bitterness. 
 
 Leon. Did he break out into tears ? 
 
 Mess. In great measure.* 
 
 Leon. A kind overflow of kindness : There are 
 no faces truer than those that are so washed. How 
 much better is it to weep, at joy, than to joy at 
 weeping ? 
 
 Beat. I pray you, is signior Montanto returned 
 from the wars, or no ? 
 
 Mess. I know none of that name, lady ; there 
 was none such in the army of any sort. 
 
 Leon. What is he that you ask for, niece ? 
 
 Hero. My cousin means signior Benedick of 
 Padua. 
 
 Mess. 0, he is returned ; and as pleasant as 
 ever he was. 
 
 Beat. He set up his bills here in Messina, and 
 hallensred Cupid at the flight:' and my uncle's 
 "ool, reading the challenge, subscribed for Cupid, 
 and challenged him at the bird-bolt. I pray \ou, 
 low many hath he killed and eaten in these wars ? 
 But how many hath he killed ? for, indeed, I pro- 
 mised to eat all of his killing;. 
 
 Leon. Faith, niece, you tux senior Benedick too 
 nuch ; but he'll be meet 4 with you, I doubt it not, 
 
 Mess. He hath done good service, lady, in these 
 wars. 
 
 Beat. You had musty victual, and he hath holp 
 :o eat it : he is a very valiant trencher-man, he 
 lath an excellent stomach. 
 
 Mess. And a good soldier too, lady. 
 
 Beat. And a good soldier to a lady ; But what 
 is he to a lord ? 
 
 Mess. A lord to a lord, a man to a man ; stuffed 
 with all honourable virtues. 
 
 Beat. It is so, indeed ; he is no less than a stuffed 
 man : 5 but for the stuffing, Well, we are all mortal. 
 
 Leon. You must not, sir, mistake my niece: there 
 is a kind of merry war betwixt signior Benedick 
 and her : they never meet, but there is a skirmish 
 of wit between them. 
 
 Beat. Alas, he gets nothing by that. In pur last 
 conflict, four of his five wits went halting off, 
 and now is the whole man governed with one : so 
 that if he have wit enough to keep himself warm, 
 let him bear it for a difference between himself ana 
 his horse : for it is all the wealth that he hath left, 
 to be known a reasonable creature. Who is his 
 companion now ? He hath every month a new 
 sworn brother. 
 
 Mess. Is it possible ? 
 
 Beat. Very easily possible : he wears his faith but 
 as the fashion of his hat, it ever changes with tho 
 next block.' 
 
 Mess. I sse, lady, the gentleman is not in your 
 books. 
 
 Beat . No : an he were, I would burn my study. 
 But, I pray you, who is his companion ? Is there no 
 
 (l)Kind. (2) Abundance. (3) At long lengths. (4) Even. (6) A cuckold, (6) Mould for a hat.
 
 Sftne I. 
 
 MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING, 
 
 119 
 
 young squarer' now, that will make a Toyage with! heartily prays some occasion may detain UB longer : 
 him to the devil ? 1 1 dare swear he is no hypocrite, out prays from hu 
 
 Mess. He is most in the company of the right! heart. 
 
 noble Claudio. I Leon. If you swear, my lord, TOU shall not be 
 
 Beat. O Lord ! he will hang upon him like a dis- forsworn. Let me bid you welcome, my lord: 
 ease : he is sooner caught than the pestilence, and (being reconciled to the prince your brother, I owe 
 the taker runs presently mad. God help the noble'you all duty. 
 
 Claudio! if he have caught the Benedick, it will D. John. Itharikyou: I am not of many words, 
 cost him a thousand pound ere he be cured. but I thank you. 
 
 j :.i i- A.. Leon. Please it your grace lead on ? 
 
 D. Pedro. Your hand, Leonato 5 we will go to- 
 gether. [Exeunt all but Benedick and Claudio. 
 
 JV/ess. I will hold Iriends with you, lady. 
 Beat. Do, good friend. 
 Leon. You will never run mad, niece. 
 Beat. No, not till a hot January. 
 Mess. Don Pedro is approached. 
 
 Claud. Benedick, didst thou note the daughter 
 of signior Leonato ? 
 
 Bene. I noted her not ; but I looked on her. 
 Claud. Is she not a modest young lady ? 
 Bene. Do you question me, as an honest man 
 
 Enter Don Pedro, attended by Balthazar, and 
 
 others, Don John, Claudio, and Benedick. 
 
 D. Pedro. Good signior Leonato, YOU are come s " u l d do for " my ample true judgment ; or would 
 to meet your trouble: the fasiiion of the world is !u have me^spwkafter^my custom, as being a pro- 
 to avoid cost, and you encounter it. 
 
 Leon. Never came trouble to my house in the 
 likeness of your grace : for trouble be'ing pone, com- 
 fort should remain ; but, when you depart from 
 me, sorrow abides, and happiness takes his leave. 
 
 1). Pedro. You embrace your charge 2 too wil- 
 linsrlv. I think, this U your daughter, 
 
 P - . . ',. J . 
 
 fessed tvrant to then* sex ? 
 
 Claud. No, I pray thee, speak in sober judg- 
 ment. 
 
 Bene. Why, i'faith, methinks she is too low for a 
 high praise, too brown for a fair praise, and too lit- 
 tle for a great praise : only this commendation I can 
 afford her ; that were she other than she is, she were 
 
 iriy. I think, this H vour daushter. 
 
 Leon. Her mot her hath manyftimes told me so. unhandsome ; and being no other but as she is, I do 
 
 Bene. Were vou in doubt, sir, that you asked her : :' 
 
 Lton. Signior Benedick, no ; for then were you L Cl( *i' Thou thinkest, I am in sport; I pray 
 
 thee tell me trulv how thou likest her? 
 
 cn jj 
 
 Z>. Pedro. You have it full 
 
 nil, Benedick: we may] 
 
 , being a man. Truly. ner ~\ 
 - - - - 
 
 Would you buy her, that you inquire after 
 
 puess by this what you are v 
 
 the lady" fathers herself : Be happy, lady ! for you 
 
 are like an honourable father. 
 
 Bene. If signior Leonato be her father, she would 
 not have his head on her shoulders, for all Messina, 
 as like him as she is. 
 
 Bi-iie. I wonder, tliat you will still be talking, 
 Bigmor Benedick ; no body marks you. 
 
 Btiif. What, my dear lady Disdain ! are you yet 
 Uviiij: 7 
 
 Beat. Is it possible, disdain should die, while 
 she hath such meet food to feed it, as signior Bene- 
 dick 1 Courtesy itself must convert to disdain, if 
 you come in her presence. 
 
 Bent. Then is courtesy a turn-coat: But it is 
 certain, I am loved of all ladies, only you excepted : 
 and I would I could find in my heart that I had not 
 a hard heart ; for, truly, I love none. 
 
 Beat. A dear happiness to women ; they would 
 else have been troubled w jib. a pernicious suitor. I 
 thank God 
 mour for tnat 
 a crow, 
 
 Bene. God keep your ladyship still in that mind ! 
 TO some gentleman or other shall 'scape a predesti- 
 nate scratched face. 
 
 Beat. Scratching could not make it worse, an 
 't'.vere such a face as yours were. 
 
 Bene. Well, you are a rare parrot-teacher. 
 
 Beat. A bird "of ray tongue, is better than a beast 
 cf vours. 
 
 Bene. I would my horse had the speed of your 
 tongue ; and so good a continuer : But keep your 
 >vav o' God's name ; I have done. 
 
 Claud. Can the world buy such ?. jewel ? 
 
 Lane. Yea, and a case to put it into. But speak 
 you this with a sad brow? or do you play the flout- 
 ing; jack ; to tell us Cupid is a good hare-finder, and 
 Vulcan a rare carpenter ? Come, in what key shall 
 a man take you, to go in the song ? 
 
 Claud. In mine eye, she is the sweetest lady that 
 ever I looked on. 
 
 Bene. I can see yet without spectacles, and I see 
 no such matter : there's her cousin, an she were not 
 possessed with a fury, exceeds her as much in 
 beauty, as the first of'May doth the last of Decem- 
 ber. "But I hope you have no intent to turn bus 
 band ; have you ? 
 
 Claud. I would scarce trust myself, though I had 
 sworn the contrary, if Hero would be my wife. 
 
 Bene. Is it come to 
 
 i'faith ? Hath not the 
 
 world one man, but he will wear his cap with 
 suspicion ? Shall I never see a bachelor of three- 
 
 Re-enter Don Pedro. 
 
 D. Pedro. What secret hath held you here, that 
 you followed not to Leonato's ? 
 
 Bene. I would, your grace would constrain me 
 to tell. 
 
 D. Pedro. I charge thee on thy allegiance. 
 
 Bene. You hear, count Claudio : I can be secret 
 as a dumb man, I would have you think so ; but on 
 
 iv o' God s name ; I have done. iny allegiance, mark vou this; on mv allegiance: 
 
 Beat. You always end with a jade's flick ; I know H ' e b in -, ove . With wh " Q 7 _ no w that is your grace's 
 youof old. part.-Mark, how short his answer is: With Hero, 
 
 D. Pedro. This is the sum_of all : Leonato,- Le onato's short daughter. 
 
 eignior Claudio, and_ signior Benedick, my dear 
 friend Leonato, hath invited you all. I tell him, we 
 hall stay here at the least a month ; and he 
 
 (1) Quarrelsome fellow. (2) Trust. 
 
 Claud. If this were so, so were it uttered. 
 
 Bene. Like the old tale, my lord : it is not so, nor 
 'twas not so; but, indeed, God forbid it should be so. 
 
 Claud. If mv passion change not shortly, God 
 forbid it should be otherwise.
 
 120 
 
 MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. 
 
 Jet I 
 
 D. Pedro. Amen, if you love her ; for the lady 
 is very well worthy. 
 
 Claud. You speak this to fetch me in, my lord. 
 
 D. Pedro. By my troth, I speak my thought. 
 
 Claud. Arid, in faith, my lord, I spoke mine. 
 
 Bene. And, by my two faiths and troths, my lord, 
 I spoke mine. 
 
 Claitd. That I lore her, I feel. 
 
 D. Pedro. That she is worthy, I know. 
 
 Bene. That I neither feel now she should be 
 loved, nor know how she should be worthy, is the 
 opinion that fire cannot melt out of me ; 1 will die 
 in it at the stake. 
 
 D. Pedro. Thou wast ever an obstinate heretic 
 in the despite of beauty. 
 
 Claud. And never could maintain his part, but All prompting me how fair young Hero is, 
 in the force of his will. Saying:, I lik'd her ere I went to wars. 
 
 Bene. That a woman conceived me, I thank her ; 
 
 that she brought me up, I likewise give her most And tire the hearer with a book of words: 
 
 humble thanks : but that I will have a recheat 1 
 winded in my forehead, or hang my bugle 2 in an 
 invisible baldric, 3 all women shafl pardon me. Be- 
 cause I will not do them the wrong to mistrust any. 
 I will do myself the right to trust none ; and the 
 fine is (for the which I may go the finer,) I will 
 live a bachelor. 
 
 D. Pedro. I shall see thee, ere I die, look pale 
 with love. 
 
 Bene. With anger, with sickness, or with hun- 
 ger, my lord : not with love : prove, that ever I 
 
 se more blood with love ? than I will get 
 
 with drinking, pick out mine eyes with a ballad- 
 maker's pen, and hang me up at the door of a 
 
 brothel- 
 D. Pedro 
 
 house, for the sign of blind Cupid. 
 '.dro. Well, if ever thou dost fall fr 
 
 from this 
 
 faith, thou wilt prove a notable argument. 
 
 Bene. If I do, hang me in a bottle like a cat, and 
 shoot at me ; and he that hits me, let him be clap- 
 ped on the shoulder, and called Adam. 4 
 
 D. Pedro. Well, as time shall try : 
 In time the savage bull doth bear the yoke. 
 
 Bene. The savage bull may ; but if ever the 
 sensible Benedick bear it, pluck off the bull's horns, 
 and set them in my forehead : and let me be vilely 
 painted ; and in such great letters as they write, 
 liere is good horse to hire, kt them signify under 
 
 my sign, Here you may see Benedick the married your son ? Hath he provided this music ? 
 
 Claud. If this should ever happen, thou would'st 
 be horn-mad. 
 
 D. Pedro. Nay, if Cupid have not spent all his 
 quiver in Venice, thou wilt quake for this shortly. 
 
 Bene. I look for an earthquake too then. 
 
 D. Pedro. Well, you will temporize with the 
 hours. In the mean time, good signior Benedick, 
 repair to Leonato's ; commend me to him, and tell 
 him, I will not fail him at supper ; for, indeed, he 
 hath made trreat preparation. 
 
 Bene. I have almost matter enough in me for 
 auch an embassage ; and so I commit you 
 
 Claud. To the tuition of God: From my house 
 (if I hid it) 
 
 D. Pedro. The sixth of July: Your loving 
 friend, Benedick. 
 
 Bene. Nay, mock not, mock not : The body of 
 your discourse is sometime guarded 5 with frag- 
 ments, and the guards are but sli7htly basted on 
 neither: ere you flout old ends any further, examine 
 jrour conscience; and so I leave you. [Exit Bene. 
 
 Claud. My liege, your highness now may do ine 
 good. 
 
 (1) The tune sounded to call off the dogs. 
 
 (2) Hunting-horn. (3) Girdle. 
 
 D. Pedro. My love a thine to teach ; teach it 
 
 but how, 
 
 And thou shall see how apt it is to learn 
 Any hard lesson that may do thee good. 
 
 Claud. Hath Leonato any son, my lord ? 
 
 D. Pedro. N" child but Hero, she's his only heir ; 
 Dost thou affect her, Claudio ? 
 
 Claud. 0, my lord, 
 
 When you went onward on this ended action, 
 1 look'd upon her with a soldier's eye, 
 That liken, but had a rougher task in hand 
 Than to drive liking to the name of love : 
 But now I am return'd, and that war-thoughts 
 Have left their places vacant, in their room* 
 Come thronging soft and delicate desires, 
 
 D. Pedro. Thou w-ilt be like a'lover presently, 
 
 If thou dost love fair Hero, cherish it ; 
 And I will break with her, and with her father, 
 And thou shall have her : Was't not to this end, 
 That thou began'st to twist so fine a story ? 
 
 Claud. How sweetly do you minister to love, 
 Thai know love's grief by his complexion ! 
 But lest my liking might too sudden seem. 
 I would have salv'd it with a longer treatise. 
 
 D. Pedro. What need the bridge much broader 
 
 than the flood? 
 
 The fairest grant is the necessity : 
 Look, what will serve, is fit : 'tis once, 5 thou lov'st 
 And I will fit thee with the remedy. 
 I know, we shall have revelling to-night ; 
 I will assume thy part in some disguise, 
 And tell fair Hero I am Claudio ; 
 And in her bosom I'll unclasp my heart, 
 And take her hearing prisoner with the force 
 And strong encounter of my amorous tale : 
 Then, after, to her father will I break ; 
 And, the conclusion is, she shall be thine : 
 In practice letus put it presently. [ExeunL 
 
 SCENE II. A room in Leonato's house. En- 
 ter Leonato and Antonio. 
 
 Leon. How now, brother ? where is my cousin, 
 
 Jlnt. He is very busy about it. But, brother, I 
 can tell you strange news that you vet dreamed 
 not of. 
 
 Leon. Are they good ? 
 
 .tint. As the event stamps them ; but they have 
 a good cover, they show well outward. The prince 
 and count Claudio, walking in a thick-pleached 1 
 alley in my orchard, were thus much overheard 
 by a man of mine : The prince discovered to Clau- 
 dio, that he loved my niece your daughter, and 
 meant to acknowledge it this night in a dance ; 
 and, if he found her accordant, he meant to lake 
 the present time by the top, and instantly break 
 with you of it. 
 
 Leon. Hath the fellow any wit, that told you this ? 
 
 Jlnt. A good sharp fellow : I will send for him, 
 and question him yourself. 
 
 Leon. No, no ; we will hold it as a dream, till 
 it appears itself: but I will acquaint my daughter 
 withal, that she may be the betler prepared for an 
 answer, if peradventure this be true. Go yon, and 
 tell her of it. [Several persons cross the staze.] 
 Cousins, you know what you have to do. 0. 1 
 cry you mercy, friend ; you go with me, ana I 
 
 (4) The name of a famous archer. 
 (G) Once for all. 
 
 (5) Trimmed 
 (7) Thickly interwoven .
 
 Sent 111. 
 
 MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. 
 
 121 
 
 will use your skill : Good cousins, have a carelhath all the glory of my overthrow ; if I can cross 
 this busy time. [xcunl. j him anyway, I bless myself every way : You are 
 
 SCENE ///. Another room in Leonato's house. 
 Enter Don John and Conrade. 
 
 Con. What the goujere, 1 my lord ! why are you 
 thus out of measure sad ? 
 
 D. John. There is no measure in the occasion 
 that breeds it, therefore the sadness is without limit. 
 
 Con. You should hear reason. 
 
 D. John. And when I have heard it, what 
 blessing bringeth it ? 
 
 Con. If not a present remedy, yet a patient suf- 
 ferance. 
 
 D. John. I wonder that thou being (as thou 
 lay'st thou art) born under Saturn, goest about to 
 apply a moral medicine to a mortifying mischief. 
 I cannot hide what I am : I must be sad when I 
 have cause, and smile at no man's jests ; eat when 
 I have a stomach, and wait for no man's leisure ; 
 sleep when I am drowsy, and tend to no man's 
 business j laugh when I am merry, and claw* no 
 man in his humour. 
 
 Con. Yea, but you must not make the full show 
 of this, till you may do it without controlment. 
 You have of late stood out against your brother, 
 and he hath ta'en you newly into his grace ; where 
 it is impossible you should take true root, but by 
 the fair weather that you make yourself: it is 
 needful that you frame "the season for your own 
 harvest. 
 
 D. John. I had rather be a canker 3 in a hedge, 
 than a rose in his grace ; and it better fits my blood 
 to be disdained of all, than to fashion a carriage 
 to rob love from any : in this, though I cannot be 
 said to be a flattering honest man, it must not be 
 denied that I am a plain-dealing villain. I *m 
 trusted with a muzzle, and enfranchised with a 
 clog ; therefore I have decreed not to sing in my 
 
 both sure, and will assist me ? 
 COH. To the death, my lord. 
 D. John. Let us to the great supper : 
 
 their 
 
 cheer is the greater, that I am subdued : 'Would 
 the cook were of my mind ! Shall we go prove 
 what's to be done ? 
 Bora. We'll wait upon your lordship. [Exeunt. 
 
 cage ; if I had my mouth, I would bite ; if I had 
 my liberty, I would do my liking : in the mean 
 time, let me be that I am, and seek not to alter me. 
 
 Con. Can you male no use of your discontent ? 
 
 D. John. I make fell use of it, for I use it only. 
 Who comes here ? What news, Borachio ? 
 
 Enttr Rorachio. 
 
 Bora. I came yonder from a great supper ; the 
 prince, your brother, is royally entertained by 
 Leonato ; and I can give you intelligence of an 
 intended marriasre. 
 
 D. John. Will it serve for any model to build 
 mischief on ? What is he for a fool, that betrolhs 
 himself to unquietness ? 
 
 Bora. Marrv, it is your brother's right hard. 
 
 D. John. Who ? the most exquisite Claudia ? 
 
 Bora. Even he. 
 
 D. John. A proper squire ! And who, and who ? 
 which wav looks he? 
 
 Bora. Marry, on Hero, the daughter and heir 
 
 of Leonato. 
 
 D. John. A very forward March chick ! 
 came you to this ? 
 
 How 
 
 Bora. Being entertained for a perfumer, as I 
 was smoking a musty room, comes me the prince 
 and Claudio, hand in hand, in sad* conference : I 
 whipt me behind the arras ; and there heard it 
 agreed upon, that the prince should woo Hero for 
 himself, and having obtained her, give her to count 
 Claudio. 
 
 D. John. Come, come, let us thither ; this may 
 prove food to my displeasure : that young start-ujp 
 
 (1) The venereal disease. (2) Flatter. (3) Dog-rose. 
 
 ACT II. 
 
 SCENE 7.^ hall in Leonato's house. Enttr 
 Leonato, Antonio. Hero, Beatrice, and others. 
 
 Leon. Was not count John here at supper ? 
 
 /Int. I saw him not. 
 
 Beat. How tartly that gentleman looks ! I never 
 can see him, but I "am heart-burned an hour after. 
 
 Hero. He is of a veiy melancholy disposition. 
 
 Beat. He were an excellent man, that were 
 made just in the mid-wav between him and Bene- 
 dick : ths one is too like an image, and says 
 nothing ; and the other, too like my lady's eldest 
 son, evermore tattling. 
 
 Leon. Then half signior Benedick's tongue in 
 count John's mouth, and half count John's melan- 
 choly in sienior Benedick's face, 
 
 Beat. With a good leg, and a good foot, uncle, 
 and money enough in his purse, such a man would 
 win any woman in the world, if he could get her 
 good will. 
 
 Leon. By my troth, niece, thou wilt never get 
 thee a husband", if Ihou be so shrewd of thy tongue. 
 
 Jlnt. In faith, she is too curst. 
 
 Beat. Too curst is more than curst: I shall les- 
 sen God's sending that way : for it is said, God 
 sends a curst ccio sliort liarns ; but to a cow too 
 curst he sends none. 
 
 Leon. So, by being too curst, God will send you 
 no horns. 
 
 Beat. Just, if he send me no husband ; for the 
 which blessing, I am at him upon my knees every 
 morning and evening : Lord ! I could not endure 
 a husband with a beard on his face : I had rather 
 lie in the woollen. 
 
 Leon. You may light upon a husband, that hath 
 no beard. 
 
 Beat. What should I do with him ? dress him 
 in my apparel, and make him my waiting gentle- 
 woman ? He that hath a beard, is more than a 
 youth ; and he that hath no beard, is less than a 
 man : and he that is more than a youth is not for 
 me ; and he that is less than a man, I am not for 
 Therefore, I will even take sixpence in 
 earnest of the bear-herd, and lead his apes into hell. 
 
 Leon. Well then, go you into hell ? 
 
 Beat. No ; but to the gate ; and there will the 
 devil meet me, like an old cuckold, with horns on 
 his head, and say, Get you to ksavtn, Beatrice, get 
 you to heaven ; Acre's no place for you maids : so 
 deliver I up mv apes, and away to Saint Peter for 
 the heavens; he shows me where the bachelors 
 sit, and there live we as merry as the day is Ion". 
 
 Jnt. Well, niece, [To Hero.] I trust, you v. ill 
 be ruled by your father. 
 
 Beat. Yes, faith ; it is my cousin's duty to make 
 courtesy, and say, Father, as it please you : but 
 vet for all that, cousin, let him be a handsome fel- 
 low, or else make another courtesy, and say, F&- 
 ther, as it please me. 
 
 (4) Serious.
 
 123 
 
 MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. 
 
 JktlL 
 
 Leon. Well, niece. I hope to see you one day 
 
 fitted with a husband. 
 
 Btat. Not till God make men of some other 
 metal than earth. Would it not grieve a woman 
 to be over-mastered with a piece of valiant dust ? 
 to make an account of her life to a clod of way- 
 waid marl? No, uncle, I'll none : Adam's sons are 
 my brethren ; and truly, I hold it a sin to match in 
 iny kindred. 
 
 Leon. Daughter, remember, what I told -you: 
 if the prince do solicit you in that kind, you know 
 your answer. 
 
 Beat. The fault will be in the music, cousin, if 
 you be not woo'd in good time : if the prince be too 
 important, 1 tell him, there is measure in every 
 thing, and so dance out the answer. For hear me, 
 Hero: wooing, wedding, and repenting, is as a 
 Scotch jig, a measure, and a cinque-pace : the first 
 suit is hot and hasty, like a Scotch jig-, and full as 
 fantastical ; the wedding, mannerly modest, as a 
 
 Go to, mum, you are he : graces will appear, and 
 there's an end. 
 
 Heat. Will you not tell me who told you so. 
 
 Btne. No, you shall pardon me. 
 
 Beat. Nor will you not tell me who you are ? 
 
 Bene. Not now. 
 
 Beat. That I was disdainful, and that I had my 
 good wit out of the Hundred merry Tales ; Well, 
 this was sitrnior Benedick that said so. 
 
 Bene. What's he ? 
 
 Beat. I am sure, you know him well enough. 
 
 Bene. Not I, believe me. 
 
 Beat. Did he never make you laugh ? 
 
 Bene. I pray you, what is he ? 
 
 Beat. Why, he is the prince's jester : a very dull 
 fool ; only his gift is in devising impossible* slan- 
 ders : none but libertines delight in him ; and the 
 commendation is not in his wit, but in his villany : 
 for he both pleaseth men, and angers them, and 
 then they laugh at him, and beat him : I am sure, 
 
 measure full of state and ancientry ; and then he is in the fleet ; I would he had boarded 4 me. 
 comes repentance, and, with his bad legs, falls into! Bene. When I know the gentleman, I'll tell him 
 
 the cinque-pace faster and faster, till he sink into 
 his grave. 
 
 Leon. Cousin, you apprehend passing shrewdly. 
 
 Beat. I have a good eye, uncle: I can see 'a 
 church bv day-light. 
 
 Leon. The revellers are entering ; brother, make 
 good room. 
 
 Enter Don Pedro, Claudio, Benedick, Balthazar: 
 Don John, Borachio, Margaret, Ursula, unit 
 others, masked. 
 D. Pedro. Lady, will you walk about with your 
 
 friend?* 
 
 what you say. 
 
 Beat. Do, do : he'll but break a comparison or 
 two on me ; which peradventure, not marked, or 
 not laughed at, strikes him into melancholy ; and 
 then there's a partridge's wing saved, for tlie fool 
 will eat no supper that night. [Music within.] We 
 must folio iv the leaders. 
 
 Bene. In every good thing. 
 
 Beat. Nay, if they lead to any ill, I will leave 
 them at the next turning. 
 
 [Dance. Then exeunt all but Don John, 
 Borachio, and Claudio. 
 
 D. Jo/in. Sure, mv brother is amorous on Hero, 
 
 Hero. So you walk softly, and look sweetly, and i and hath withdrawn lier father to break with him 
 
 say nothing,"! am yours for the walk ; and espe- 
 cially, when I walk away. 
 
 D. Pedro. With me in your company ? 
 
 Hero. I mav say so, when I please. 
 
 D. Pedro. And whtn please you to say so ? 
 
 Hero. When I like your favour : for God de- 
 fend,* the lute should be like the case ! 
 
 D. Pedro. My visor is Philemon's roof; within 
 the house is Jove. 
 
 Hero. Why, then your riser should be thatch'd. 
 
 D. Pedro. Speak low, if you speak love. 
 
 [Taktt ker aside. 
 
 Bene. Well, I would vou did like me. 
 
 Marg. So would not 1, for your own sake ; for I 
 have many ill qualities. 
 
 Bene. Which is one ? 
 
 Jffarg. I say my prayers aloud. 
 
 Bene. I love you the better ; the hearers may 
 cry Amen. 
 
 .Varg:. God match me with a good dancer ! 
 
 Balth. Amen. 
 
 Marg. And God keep him out of my sight, when 
 the dance is done ! Answer, clerk. 
 
 Balth. No more words ; the clerk is answered. 
 
 Urs. I know you well enough ; you are signior 
 Antonio. 
 
 Anl. At a word, I am not, 
 
 Urs. I know you by the wangling of your head. 
 
 9nt. To tell you true, I counterfeit him. 
 
 Urs. You could never do him so ill-well, unless 
 you were the very man : Here's his dry hand up 
 and down ; you are he, you are he. 
 
 Jtni. At a word, I am not. 
 
 Urs. Come, come ; dp you think I do not know 
 you by your excellent wit? Can virtue hide itself? 
 
 (1) Importunate. 
 (4) Incredible. 
 
 (2) Lover. (S) Forbid. 
 (5) Accosted. 
 
 about, it : the ladies follow her, and but one visor 
 remains. 
 
 JBcro. And that is Claudio : I know him by lu's 
 bearing. 6 
 
 D. John. Are not you signior Benedick ? 
 
 Claud. You know me well ; I am he. 
 
 I). John. Signior, you are very near my brother 
 in his love : he is enamoured on Hero ; I prav you, 
 dissuade him from her, she is no equal for his birth : 
 you may do the part of an honest man in it. 
 
 Claud. How know you he loves her ? 
 
 D. John. I heard him swear his affection. 
 
 Bora. So did I too ; and he swore he would 
 marry her to-night. 
 
 D. Jchn. Come, let us to the banquet. 
 
 [Exeunt Don John and Borachio. 
 
 Claud. Thus answer I in name of Benedick, 
 But hear these ill news with the ears of Claudio. 
 'Tis certain so ; the prince woos for himself. 
 Friendship is constant in all other things, 
 Save in the office and affairs of love : 
 Therefore, all hearts in love use their own tongues ; 
 Let every eye negotiate for itself. 
 And trust no agent : for beauty is a witch, 
 Ajainst whose charms faith meltet.h into blood.* 
 This is an accident of hourly proof, 
 Which I mistrusted not: Farewell therefore, Hero! 
 
 Re-enter Benedick. 
 
 Bene. Count Claudio ? 
 
 Claud. Yea, the same. 
 
 Btne. Come, will you go with me? 
 
 Claud. Whither? 
 
 Bene. Even to the next willow, about your own 
 business, count. What fashion will you wear tho 
 ;arland of? About your neck, like a usurer's 
 
 (6) Carriage, demeanour. (7) Passion.
 
 MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. 
 
 123 
 
 chain? or under your arm, like a lieutenant's 
 scarf? You must wear it one way, for the prince 
 hath got your Hero. 
 
 Claud. I wish him joy of her. 
 
 Bent. Why, that's spoken like an honest drover ; 
 to they sell bullocks. But did you think, the prince 
 would hare served you thus ? 
 
 Claud. I pray yo'u, leave me. 
 
 Bent. Ho! now you strike like the Mind man ; 
 'twas the boy that stole your meat, and ) ou'll beat 
 
 the post. 
 Claud. If it will not be, I'll leave you. 
 
 (Exit. 
 
 IsfrUttU. 11 11 Will 11WL U9| * il 0.t JVU. L*rfa-ft* 
 
 Bene. Alas, poor hurt fowl ! Now wilj he creep 
 
 into sedges. But, that my lady Beatrice should 
 
 know me, and not know me ! The prince's fool ! 
 Ha ! it may be, I go under that title, because I am 
 merry. Yea ; but so ; I am apt to do myself wrong: 
 I am' not so reputed : it is the base, the bitter dis- 
 position of Beatrice, that puts the world into her 
 person, and so gives me out. Well, I'll be re- 
 venged as I may. 
 
 Re-enter Don Pedro, Hero, and Lconato. 
 D. Pedro. Now, signior, whet e's the count ? 
 Did you see him ? 
 
 in hell, as in a sanctuary ; and people sin upon par- 
 pose, because they would go thither ; so, indeed, all 
 disquiet, horror, and perturbation follow her. 
 
 Re-enter Claudio and Beatrice. . 
 
 D. Pedro. Look, here she comes. 
 
 Bene. Will your grace command me any service 
 to the world's end ? 1 will go on the slightest errand 
 now to the Antipodes, that you can devise to send 
 me on ; I will fetch you a toothpicker now from the 
 farthest inch of Asia ; bring you the length of Pres- 
 t.er John's foot ; fetch you a hair off the great 
 Cham's beard ; do you any embassage to the Pig- 
 mies, rather than hold three words' conference with 
 this harpy : You have no employment for me ? 
 
 D. Pearo. None, but to desire your good com- 
 pany. 
 
 Bene. God, sir, here's a dish I love not : I can- 
 
 Bene. Troth, my lord, I have played the part of have lost it. 
 
 lady Fame. I found him here as melancholy as a 
 lodge in a warren ; I told him, and, I think, I told 
 him true, that your grace had got the good will of 
 this voung lady ; and I offered him my company to 
 a willow tree, either to make him a garland, as 
 being forsaken, or to bind him up a rod, as being 
 worthv to be whipped. 
 
 I). Pedro. To be whipped ! What's his fault? 
 
 Bene. The flat transgression of a school-boy ; 
 who, beinw overjoy'd with finding a bird's nest, 
 shows it his companion, and he steals it. 
 
 I). Pedro. Wilt tho_u make a trust a transgres- 
 sion ? The transgression is in the stealer. 
 
 Bene. Yet it had not been amiss, the rod had 
 been made, and the garland too ; for the garland 
 he might have worn himself; and the rod he might 
 have bestowed on you, who, as I take it, have stol'n 
 his bird's nest. 
 
 D. Pedro. I will but teach them to sing, and re- 
 itore them to the owner. 
 
 Bene. If their singing answer your saying, by 
 my faith, you say honestly. 
 
 D. Pedro. The lady Beatrice hath a quarrel to 
 you ; the_ gentleman, that danced with her, told 
 her, she is much wronged by you. 
 
 a block ; an oak, but with one green leaf on it, 
 would have answered her ; my very visor began to 
 assume life, and scold with her : She told me, not 
 thinking I had been myself, that I was the prince's 
 jester ; that I was duller than a great thaw ; hud- 
 dling jest upon jest, with such impossible 1 convey- 
 ance, upon me, that I stood like a man at a mark, 
 with a whole army shooting at me : she speaks 
 poniards, and every word stabs : if her breath were 
 as terrible as her terminations, there were no living 
 near her, she would infect to the north star. I 
 would not marry her, though she were endowed 
 with all that Adam had left him before he trans- 
 gressed: she would have made Hercules have 
 
 not endure my lady Tongue. 
 
 [Exit. 
 
 D. Pedro. Come, lady, come ; you have lost the 
 henrt of signior Benedick. 
 
 Beat. Indeed, my lord, he lent it me awhile ; and 
 I gave him use ;! for it, a double heart for his single 
 one : mam', once before, he won it of me with 
 false dit-Cj therefore your grace may well say, I 
 
 D. Pedro. You have put him down, lady, you 
 have put him down. 
 
 Heat. So I would not he should do me, my lord, 
 lest I should prove the mother of fools. I have 
 brouglit count Claudio, whom you sent me to seek. 
 
 D. Pedro. Why, how now, count? wherefore 
 are you sad ? 
 
 Claud. Not sad, my lord. 
 
 D. Pedro. How then ? Sick ? 
 
 Claud. Neither, my lord. 
 
 Beat. The count is neither sad nor sick, nor 
 merry, nor well : but civil, count ; civil as an 
 orange, and something of that jealous complexion. 
 
 D. Pedro. I'faith, lady, I think your blazon to 
 be true ; though I'll be sworn, if he be so, his con- 
 ceit is false. Here, Claudio, I have wooed in thy 
 name, and fair Hero is won ; I have broke with 
 her father, and his good will obtained : name the 
 day of marriage, and God give thec joy ! 
 
 Leon. Count, take of me my daughter, and with 
 her my fortunes : his grace h'ath made the match, 
 and all grace say Amen to it ! 
 
 J5ea."Speak, count, 'tis your cue. 4 
 
 Claud. Silence is the per'fectest herald of joy : I 
 were but little happy, if I could say how much. 
 
 .1. one IB uuui wiuagcu uj jvu. IVCIG uui, inuc "IJ'P.V, " * cuuiu oaj nuw mucn. 
 
 Bene. O, she misused me past the endurance of Lady, as you are mine, I am yours : I give away 
 
 myself for you, and dote upon the exchange. 
 
 Beat. Speak, cousin ; or if you cannot, stop his 
 mouth with a kiss, and let him not speak, neither. 
 
 D. Pedro. In faith, lady, you have a merry heart. 
 
 Beat, Yea, my lord ; *I thank it, poor fool, it 
 keeps on the windy side of care : My cousin tells 
 him in his ear, that he is in her heart. 
 
 Claud. And so she doth, cousin. 
 
 Beat. Good lord, for alliance ! Thus goes every 
 one_ to the world but I, and I am sun-burned ; I may 
 sit in a corner, and cry, heigh ho ! for a husband. 
 
 D. Pedro. Lady Beatrice, I will get'you one, 
 
 Beat. I would rather have one of your father's 
 retting : Hath your grace ne'er a brother like you ? 
 
 turned spit; yea, and have cleft his club to make j Your father got excellent husbands, if a maid could 
 the fire too. Come, talk not of her ; you shall find come by them. 
 
 her the infernal At6 a in good apparel. I would to 
 God, some scholar would conjure her; for, cer- 
 
 D. Pedro. Will you have me, lady ? 
 
 Beat. No, my lord, unless I might have another 
 
 ^uu. oujjic^ oviiuAu.1 wuuii* v<uujuio iic-i , uij Wl* xfC'Ufr* i-ivj iilj lUl Uj uiJitna * Hll^llL Jlave ctnOinCr 
 
 tainly, while she is here, a man may live as quiet; for working-days: your grace is too costly to wear 
 
 j every day: But, I beseech your grace, pardon 
 (1J Incredible. 
 (2) The Goddess of Discord. (S) Interest. (4) Turn : a phrase among the player*.
 
 124 
 
 MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. 
 
 me ; I was born to speak all mirth, and no matter. 
 
 D. Pedro. Your silence most offends me, and to 
 be merry best becomes you ; for, out of question, 
 you were born in a merry hour. 
 
 Beat. No, sure, my lord, my mother cry'd ; but 
 then there was a star danced, and under that was 
 I born. Cousins, God give you joy ! 
 
 Leon. Niece, will you look to those things I told 
 you of? 
 
 Beat. I cry you mercy, uncle. By your grace's 
 pardon. [Exit Beatrice. 
 
 D. Pedro. By my troth, a pleasant-spirited lady. 
 
 Lton. There's little of the melancholy element 
 in her, my lord: she is never sad, but when she 
 sleeps ; and not ever sad then ; for I have heard 
 my daughter say, she hath often dreamed ol' un- 
 happiness, and waked herself with laughing. 
 
 D. Pedro. She cannot endure to hear tell of a 
 husband. 
 
 Leon,. 0, by no means ; she mocks all her woo- 
 ers out of suit. 
 
 D. Pedro. She were an excellent wife for Bene- 
 dick. 
 
 Leon. O LorO, my lord, if they were but a week 
 married, they would talk themselves mad. 
 
 D. Pedro. Count Claudio, when mean you to go 
 to church ? 
 
 Claud. To-morrow, my lord: Time goes on 
 crutches, till love have all his rites. 
 
 Lewi. Not till Monday, my dear son, which is 
 hence a just seven-night ;" and a time too brief too, 
 to have all things answer my mind. 
 
 D. Pedro. Come, you shake the head ct so long 
 a breathing; but, I warrant thee, Cl.iudio, the 
 time shall not go dully by us ; I will, in the interim, 
 undertake one of Hercules' labours ; which is, to 
 bring signior Bc.nedick, and the lady Beatrice into 
 a mountain of affection, the one with the other. I 
 would fain have it a match ; and I do_ubt not but 
 to fashion tf, if you three will but minister such 
 assistance as I shall give you direction. 
 
 Leon. My lord, I am for you, though it cost me 
 ten nights' watchings. 
 
 Claud. And I, my lord. 
 
 D. Pedro. And you too, gentle Hero ? 
 
 Hero. I will do any modest ofiice, my lord, to 
 help my cousin to a good husband. 
 
 1). Pedro. And Benedick is not the tmhopefullest 
 husband that I know : thus far can I praise him ; 
 he is of a noble strain, 1 of approved valour, and 
 confirmed honesty. I will teach you how to hu- 
 mour your cousin, that she shall fall in love with 
 Benedick : and I, with your two helps, will so 
 pract ise on Benedick, that, in despite of his quick 
 wit and his queasy* stomach, he shall fall in love 
 with Beatrice. If we can do this, Cupid is no 
 longer an archer ; his glory shall be ours, for we 
 are the only love-gods. Go in with me, and I will 
 tell you my drift. [Exeunt. 
 
 SCEA'E II. Another room in Leonato's house. 
 Enter Don John and Borachio, 
 
 D. John. It is so ; the count Claudio shall marry 
 the daughter of Leonato. 
 
 Bora. Yea. my lord ; but I can cross it. 
 
 D. John. Any bar, any cross, any impediment 
 will be medicinable to me : I am sick in displea- 
 sure to him ; and whatsoever comes athwart his 
 affection, ranges evenly with mine. How canst 
 thou cross this marriage ? 
 
 Bora. Not honestly, my lord ; but so covertly 
 that no dishonesty shall appear in me. 
 
 M) Lineage. (2) Fastidious. (3) Pretend. 
 
 D. John. Show me briefly how. 
 
 Bora. I think, I toid your lordship, a year since, 
 hovy much I am in the favour of Margaret, the 
 waiting gentlewoman to Hero. 
 
 D. John. I remember. 
 
 Bora. I can, st any unseasonable instant of the 
 night, appoint her to look out at her lady's cham- 
 ' ber-window. 
 
 D. John. What life is in that, to be the death of 
 this marriage ? 
 
 Bora. The poison of that lies in you to temper. 
 Go you to the prince your brother : spare not to 
 tell him, that he hath wronged his honour in mar- 
 rying 1 the renowned Claudio (whose estimation do 
 you mightily hold up) to a contaminated stale, 
 such a one as Hero. 
 
 D. John. What proof shall I make of that ? 
 
 Bora. Proof enough to misuse the prince, to vex 
 Claudio, to undo Hero, and kill Leonato : look you 
 for anv other issue ? 
 
 D. John. Only to despite them, I will endeavour 
 any thing. 
 
 Bora. Go tlien, find me a meet hour to draw 
 Don Pedro and the count Claudio, alo_ne : tell them, 
 that you know that Hero loves me ; intend 3 a kind 
 of zeal both to the prince and Claudio, as in love 
 of your brother's honour who hath made this 
 match; and his friend's reputation, who is thus 
 like to be cozened with the semblance of a maid, 
 that you have discovered thus. They will scarcely 
 believe this without trial : offer them instances"; 
 which shall bear no less likelihood, than to see me 
 at her chamber- window ; hear me call Margaret, 
 Hero ; hear Margaret, term me Borachio ; and 
 bring them to see this, the very night before the in- 
 tended wedding: for, in the mean time, I will eo 
 fashion the matter, that. Hero shall be absent ; and 
 there shall appear such seeming truth of Hero's 
 disloyalty, that jealousy s,hall be called assurance, 
 and all the preparation overthrown. 
 
 D. John. Grow this to what adverse issue it can, 
 I will put it in practice : Be cunning in the work- 
 ingthis, and thy fee is a thousand ducats. 
 
 Bora. Be you constant in the accusation, and 
 my cunning shall not shame me. 
 
 'D. John. I will presently go learn their day ef 
 marriage. [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE III. Leonato's Garden. Enter Bene- 
 dick and a Boy. 
 
 Bene. Boy, 
 
 Boy. Signior. 
 
 Bene. In my chamber- window lies a book; bring 
 ;t hither to me in the orchard. 
 
 Boy. I am here already, sir. 
 
 Bene. I know that; but I would have ther 
 lence, and here again. [Exit Boy.] I do mucl 
 wonder, that one man, seeing how much anothci 
 man is a fool when he dedicates his behaviours fi 
 ovc, will, after he hath laughed at such shallov 
 "ollies in others, become the argument of his owi 
 scorn, by falling in love : and such a man is Clati- 
 lio. I have known, when there was no music witl 
 >iin but the drum and fife, and now had he rathe 
 iear the tabor and the pipe : I have known, whei 
 ic would have walked ten mile afoot, to see a goot 
 armour; and now will he lie ten nights awakr 
 carving Ihe fashion of a new doublet. He wa 
 wont to speak plain, and to the purpose, like a 
 honest man, and a soldier ; and now is he turned or 
 thographer ; his words are a very fantastical bar 
 quet, just so many strange dishes. May I be e 
 converted, and see with these eyes ? I cannot tell 
 I think not: I will not be sworn, but lore ma
 
 Stent III. 
 
 MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. 
 
 135 
 
 transform me to an oyster ; but I'll take my oath' Bene. [Jlside.] An he had been a do?, that 
 on it, till he have made an oyster of me, he shall should have howled thus, they would have hanged 
 never make me such a fool. One woman is fair ; him : and I pray God, his bad voice bode no mis- 
 yet I am well: another is wise; yet I am well; chief! I had as lief have heard the night-raven, 
 another virtuous ; yet I am well : but till all graces come what plague could have come after it. 
 be in one woman, one woman shall not come in my! D. Pedro, lea, marry ; [To Claudio.] Dost 
 grace. Rich she shall be, that's certain ; wise, o'r.thou hear, Balthazar? I pray thee, get us some 
 I'll none; virtuous, or I'll never cheapen her; fair, | excellent music: for to-morrow night we would 
 or I'll never look on her ; mild, or come not nearjhave it at the lady Hero's chamber- window. 
 me ; noble, or not 1 for an angel ; of good dis- Balth. The best I can, my lord, 
 course, an excellent musician, and her hair shall I D, Pedro. Do so: farewell. [Exeunt Balthazar 
 be of what colour it please God. Ha! the prince j and music.] Come hither, Leonato : What was it 
 and monsieur Love ! I will hide me in the arbour. i you told me of to-day? that your niece Beatrice 
 
 [Withdraws, j was in love with siguior Benedick ? 
 
 Enter Don Pedro, Leonato, and Claudio. 
 D. Pedro. C ome, shall we hear this music ? 
 Claud. Yea, my good lord : How still the 
 
 evening is, 
 
 As hush'd on purpose to grace harmony ! 
 D. Pedro, bee you where Benedick hath hid 
 
 himself? 
 
 Claud. O, very well, my lord : the music ended, 
 We'll fit the kid-fox 1 with a penny-worth. 
 
 Enter Balthazar, with music. 
 
 D. Pedro. Come, Balthazar, we'll hear that 
 song again. 
 
 Balth. O good my lord, tax not so bad a voice 
 To slander music any more than once. 
 
 D. Pedro. It is the witness still of excellency, 
 To put a strange face on his own perfection: 
 I prav thce, sing-, and let me woo no more. 
 
 Balth. Because you talk of wooing, I will sing; 
 Since many a wooer doth commence his suit 
 To her he thinks not worthy ; yet he woos ; 
 Yet will he swear, he loves. 
 
 D. Pedro. Nay, pray thee, come : 
 
 Or, if thou wilt hold longer argument, 
 Do it in notes. 
 
 Balth. Note this before my notes, 
 
 There's not a note of mine that's worth the noting. 
 
 D. Pedro. Why, these are very crotchets that he 
 
 speaks ; 
 Note, note, forsooth, and noting ! 
 
 [Jlfusfc. 
 
 Beni. Now, Diriiie air ! now is his soul ravish- 
 ed! Is it not strange, that sheep's guts should 
 hale souls out of men's bodies ? Well, a horn for 
 my money, when all's done. 
 
 Balthazar sings. 
 I. 
 
 Balth. Sigh no more, ladies, sigh no more, 
 
 Jtlen were deceivers em-; 
 One foot in s;a, and (me on shore; 
 To one thin^ constant never: 
 Then sign not so, 
 But let them go, 
 Jlnd be you blith and bonny ; 
 Converting all your sounds of wo 
 Into, Hey nonny, nanny. 
 
 II. 
 Sin* no more ditties, sing no mo' 1 
 
 Of dumps so didl and heavy; 
 The fraud of men u'as ever so, 
 Since summer first tens leavy. 
 
 Then sigh not so, <S"C. 
 D. Pedro. By my troth, a good song. 
 Balth. And an ill singer, my lord. 
 D. Pedro. Ha? no; no, faith ; thou singest well 
 enough for a shift. 
 
 Claud. O,ay: Stalk on, stalk on j the fowl sits. 
 [Jlside to Pedro.] I did never think that lady 
 would have loved any man. 
 
 Leon. No, nor I neither ; but most wonderful 
 that she should so dote on signior Benedick, whom 
 she hath in all outward behaviours seemed ever to 
 abhor. 
 
 Bene. Is't possible? Sits the wind in that corner? 
 
 [Jlside. 
 
 Leon. Bv my troth, my lord, I cannot tell what 
 to think of it ; but that'she loves him with an ec- 
 ra<red affection, it is past the infinite of thought. 1 
 
 JD. Pedro. May be, she doth but counterfeit. 
 
 Claud. 'Faith, like enough. 
 
 Leon. O God! counterfeit! There never was 
 counterfeit of passion came so near the life of pas- 
 sion, as she discovers it. 
 
 D. Pedro. Why, what effects of passion shows she? 
 
 Claud. Bait the hook well ; this fish will bite. 
 
 [Jlside. 
 
 Leon. What effects, my lord ? She will sit you, 
 You heard my daughter tell you how. 
 
 Claud. She did indeed. 
 
 D. Pedro. How, how, I pray you ? You amaze 
 me : I would have thought her spirit had been in- 
 vincible acrahist all assaults of affection. 
 
 Leon. I would have sworn it had, my lord ; 
 especially against Benedick. 
 
 Bene. [Jlside.} I should think this a gull, but 
 that the wnite-bearded fellow speaks it: knavery 
 cannot, sure, hide itself in such reverence. 
 
 Claiid. He hath ta'en the infection ; hold it up. 
 
 Ltside 
 
 D. Pedro. Hath she made her affection known 
 to Benedick? 
 
 Leon. No ; and swears she never will : that's 
 her torment. 
 
 Claud. 'Tis true, indeed; so your daughtsr 
 says : Shall I, says she, that have so oft encoun- 
 tered him with scorn, write to him that flore him ? 
 
 Leon. This says she now when she is beginning 
 to write to him : for she'll be up twenty times a 
 night ; and there will she sit in her smock, till she 
 have writ a ehect of paper : my daughter tells 
 us all. 
 
 Claud. Now you talk of a sheet of paper, re- 
 member a pretty jest your daughter told us of. 
 
 Leon. O! When "she had writ it, and was 
 reading it over, she found Benedick and Beatrice 
 between the sheet ? 
 
 Claud. That. 
 
 Leon. O ! she tore the letter into a thousand 
 half-pence ; railed at herself, that she should be so 
 immodest to write to one that she knew would flout 
 her : / measure him. says she, by my own spirit ; 
 for I should flout him, if he writ to me ; yea, 
 though I love him, I should. 
 
 Claud, Then down upon her knees she falls, 
 
 (\) Young or cub-fox, (Z) Longer. (3) Beyond the power of thought to concent*
 
 MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. 
 
 Aeilll. 
 
 weeps, sobs, beats her heart, tears her hair, prays, 
 curses: U sweet Benedick! God give me patience! 
 
 Leon. She doth, indeed ; my daughter says so : 
 and the ecstasy 1 hath so much overborne her, that 
 my daughter is sometimes afraid she will do a des- 
 perate outrage to herself ; It is very true. 
 
 D. Pedro. It were good that Benedick knew of] 
 it by some other, if she will not discover it. 
 
 Claud. To what end ? He would make but a 
 sport of it, and torment the poor lady worse. 
 
 D. Pedro. An he should, it were an alms to 
 hang him : she's an excellent sweet lady ; aud, out 
 of afi suspicion, she is virtuous. 
 
 Claud. And she is exceeding wise. 
 
 D. Pedro. In every thing, butin loving Benedick. 
 
 Leon. O my lord, wisdom and blood combating 
 n so tender a body, we have ten proofs to one, that 
 blood hath the victory. I ana sorry for her, as I liave 
 just cause, being her uncle and her guardian. 
 
 D. Pedro. I would she had bestowed this dotage 
 on me ; I would have dafPd 2 all other respects, and 
 made her half myself: I pray you, tell Benedick 
 of it, and hear what he will say. 
 
 Leon. Were it good, think you ? 
 
 Claud. Hero thinks surely, she will die for she 
 says, she will die if he love" her not ; and she will 
 die ere she makes her love known ; and she will 
 die if he woo her, rather than she will 'bate one 
 Oreath of her accustomed crossness. 
 
 D. Pedro. She doth well: if she should make ten- 
 der of her love, 'tis verv possible he'll scorn it ; for 
 the man, as vouknow all, hath a contemptible 3 spirit. 
 
 Claud. He is a very proper* man. 
 
 D. Pedro. He hath, indeed, a good outward 
 Happiness. 
 
 Clcatd. 'Fore God, and in my mind, very wise. 
 
 D. Pedro. He doth, indeed, show some "sparks 
 that are like wit. 
 
 l*on. And I take him to be valiant. 
 
 D. Pedro. As Hector, I assure you : and in the 
 managing of quarrels you may say he is wise ; for 
 either he avoids them with trreat ciiscretion, or un- 
 dertakes lh*.m with a most Christian- like fear. 
 
 l^eon. If he do fear God, he must necessarily 
 keep peace ; if he break the peace, he ought to 
 enter into a quarrel with fear and trembling'. 
 
 D. Pedro. And so will he do ; for the man doth 
 fear God, howsoever it seems not in him, by some 
 large jests he will make. Well, I am sorry for 
 vour niece: shall we go see Benedick, and tell 
 him of her love ? 
 
 Cltrud. Never tell him, my lord ; let her wear it 
 out with srood counsel. 
 
 Leon. Nay, that's impossible ; she may wear her 
 heart out first. 
 
 D. Pedro. Well, we'll hear furthrr of it by your 
 daughter ; let it cool the while. I love Benedick 
 well ; and I could wish he would modestly examine 
 him=elf, to see how much he is unworthy so good a 
 lady. 
 
 Leon. Mv lord, will vou walk ? dinner is ready. 
 
 Claud. If he do not dote on her upon this, I will 
 never trust my expectation. [*1side. 
 
 D. Pedro. 'Let there be the same net spread for 
 her; and that must your daughter and her gentle- 
 woman carry. The sport will be, when they hold 
 one an opinion of another's dotage, and no such 
 matter ; that's the scene that I would see, which 
 will be merely a dumb show. Let us send her to 
 eall him in to dinner. [rfside. 
 
 [Exeunt Don Pedro, Claudio, and Leonato. 
 
 Benedick advances from above. 
 
 Bene. This can be no trick : the conference wa 
 sadly borne. 5 They have the truth of this from 
 Herb. They seem to pity the lady ; it seems, her 
 affections have their full bent. Love me ! why, it 
 must be requited. I hear how I am censured : they 
 say, I will bear myself proudly, if I perceive the 
 love come from her ; they say too, that she will 
 rather die than give any sign of affection. I did 
 never think to marry : I must not seem proud : 
 Huppy are they that hear their detractions, and 
 
 for loving me : By my trotn, it is no addition to her 
 ' wit ; nor no great argument of her folly, for I will 
 be horribly in love with her. I may chance have 
 some odd quirks and remnants of wit broken on 
 me, because I have railed so long against mar- 
 riage: But doth not the appetite alter ? A man 
 loves the meat in his youth, that he cannot endure 
 in his age : shall quips ? and sentence*, and these 
 paper bullets of the brain, awe a man from the ca- 
 reer of his humour? No: the world must be peopled. 
 When I said, I would die a bachelor. I did not 
 think I should live till I were married. Here cornea 
 Beatrice : By this day, she's a fair lady ; I do spy 
 some marks of love in her. 
 
 Enter Beatrice. 
 
 Beat. Against my will, I am sent to bid you 
 come in to dinner. 
 
 Bene. Fair Beatrice, I thank you for your pains. 
 
 Beat . I took no more pains for those thanks, than 
 you take pains to thank me ; if it had been painful, 
 I would not have come. 
 
 Bene. You take pleasure in the message ? 
 
 Beat. Yea, just so much ns you may take upon a 
 knife's point, and_ choke a daw withal": You have 
 no stomach, signior : fare you well. [Exit. 
 
 Bene. Ha ! Against my will I am sent to bid 
 you come to dinner there's a double meaning in 
 that. / took no more pains for those thanks, than 
 you took pains to thank me that's as much as to 
 
 (I) Alienation of mind. 
 S) Contemptuous, 
 
 Thrown off. 
 Handsome, 
 
 get her picture. 
 
 [Exit. 
 
 ACT III. 
 
 SCYE /. Leonato's Garden. Enter Hero, 
 Margaret and Ursula. 
 
 Hero. Good Margaret, run thee into the parlour ; 
 There shall thou find my cousin Beatrice 
 Proposina" with the prince and Claudio : 
 Whimper her ear, ana tell her, I and Ursula 
 Walk in the orchard, and our whole discourse 
 Is all of her ; say, that thou overheard'st us ; 
 And bid her steal into the pleached bower, 
 Where honey- suckles, ripen'd by the sun, 
 Forbid the sun to enter ; like favourites. 
 Made proud by princes, that advance their pride 
 Against that power that bred it: there will she 
 
 hide her, 
 
 To listen our propose : this is thy office, 
 Bear thee well in it, and leave us alone. 
 
 Jtlarg. I'll make her come, I warrant you-pre- 
 sently. [Exit. 
 
 (5) Seriously carried on, (C) DiKonr*lnj,
 
 Sttne I. 
 
 MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. 
 
 Hero. Now, Ursula, when Beatrice doth come, 
 As we do trace this alley up and down, 
 Our talk must only be of Benedick: 
 When I do name him, let it be thy part 
 To praise him more than ever man did merit : 
 My talk to thee must be, how Benedick 
 Is sick in love with Beatrice : of this matter 
 Is little Cupid's crafty arrow made, 
 That only wounds by hearsay. Now begin ; 
 
 Enter Beatrice, behind. 
 
 For look where Beatrice, like a lapwing, runs 
 Close by the ground, to near our conference. 
 
 Urs. The pleasant'st anglin? is to see the fish 
 Cut with her golden oars the silver stream, 
 And greedily devour the treacherous bait: 
 So angle we for Beatrice ; who even now 
 Is couched in the woodbine coverture : 
 Fear you not my part of the dialogue. 
 
 Hei-o. Then go we near her, that her ear lose 
 
 nothing 
 Of the false sweet bait that we lay for it 
 
 [They advance to the bower. 
 No, trulv, Ursula, she is too disdainful ; 
 I know, her spirits are as coy and wild 
 As fcaggards of the rock. 1 
 
 Urs. But are yon sure, 
 
 That Benedick loves Beatrice so entirely? 
 
 Hero. So says the prince, and my new-trothed 
 lord. 
 
 Urs. And did they bid you tell her of it, madam ? 
 
 Hero. They did entreat me to acquaint her of it : 
 But I persuaded them, if thev lov'd Benedick, 
 To wish him wrestle with affection, 
 And never to lot. Beatrice know of it. 
 
 Urs. Why did you so I Doth not the gentleman 
 Deserve as full, as fortunate a bed. 
 As ever Beatrice shall couch upon / 
 
 Hero. god of love ! I know, he doth deserve 
 As much as mny be yielded to a man : 
 But nature never frain'd a woman's heart 
 Of prouder stuff than that of Beatrice : 
 Disdain and scorn ride sparkling in her eyes, 
 Misprising* what they look on : and her wit 
 Values itself so highly, that to her 
 All matter else seems weak : she cannot love, 
 Nor take no shape nor project of atleetion, 
 She is so self-endeared. 
 
 Urs. Sure, I lliink so ; 
 
 And therefore, certainly, it were not good 
 She knew his love, lest she make sport at it. 
 
 Hero. Why, you speak truth: Ineveryetsawmnn, 
 How wise, how noble, young, how rarely featur'd, 
 But she would spell him backward : if faiv-fac'd, 
 She'd swear, the gentleman should be her sister ; 
 If black, why, nature, drawing of an antic, 
 Made a foul blot : if tall, a lance ill-headed ; 
 If low, an agate very vilely cut : 
 If speaking-, why, a vane blown with all winds : 
 If silent, why, a block moved with none. 
 So turns she" every man the wrong side out ; 
 And_ never gives to truth and virtue, that 
 Which simpleness and merit purchaseth. 
 
 Urs. Sure, sure,suchcarpingisnotcommendablo. 
 
 Hero. No : not to be so odd, and from all fashions, 
 As Beatrice is, cannot be commendable : 
 But who dare tell her so ? If I should speak, 
 She'd mock me into air ; O, she. would laugh me 
 Out of myself, press me to death with wit. 
 Therefore let Benedick, like cover'd fire, 
 Consume away in sighs, waste inwardly : 
 
 A species of hawk. 
 
 (2) Undervaluing. 
 (4) Conrgriation, 
 
 It were a better death than die with tnockl ; 
 Which is as bad as die with tickling. 
 
 Urs. Yet tell her of it hear what she will ay. 
 
 Hero. No ; rather I will go to Benedick, 
 And counsel him to fight against his passion : 
 And, truly, I'll devise some honest slanders 
 To stain my cousin with : one doth not know, 
 How much an ill word may empoison liking. 
 
 Urs. O, do not do your cousin such a wrong. 
 She cannot be so much without true judgment 
 (Having so swift 3 and excellent a wit, 
 As she is priz'd to have,) as to refuse 
 So rare a gentleman as signior Benedick, 
 
 Hero. He is the only man in Italy, 
 Always excepted my dear Claudio. 
 
 Urs. I pray you, be not angry with me, madam, 
 Speaking my fancy ; signior Benedick, 
 For shape, for bearing, argument," and valour, 
 Goes foremost in report through Italy. 
 
 Hero. Indeed, he hath an excellent good name. 
 
 Urs. His excellence did earn it, ere' he had it- 
 When are you married, madam ? 
 
 Hero. Why, every day ; to-morrow : come, go 
 
 in; 
 
 .'11 show thee some attires ; and have thy counsel. 
 Which is the best to furnish me to-morrow. 
 
 Urs. She's iim'd, 1 I warrant you ; we hare 
 caught her, madam. 
 
 Hero. If it prove so, then loving goes by haps : 
 Some Cupid kills with arrows, some with traps. 
 
 [Exeunt Hero and Ursula. 
 
 Beatrice advances. 
 Beat. What fire is in mine ears ? Can this be true? 
 
 Stand I condemn'd for pride and scorn so much? 
 Contempt, farewell ! ana maidsn pride, adieu ! 
 
 No glory lives behind the back of such. 
 And, Benedick, love on, I will requite thee 
 
 Taming my wild heart to thy loving hand ; 
 If thou dost love, my kindness shall incite thee 
 
 To bind our loves up in a holy band : 
 For others say, thou dost deserve ; and I 
 Believe it better than reportingly. [Exit. 
 
 SCENE II. Jl room, in JL,eonato's house. Enter 
 Don Pedro, Claudio, Benedick, and Leonato. 
 
 D. Pedro. I do but stay till your marriage be 
 consummate, and then I go toward Arratron. 
 
 Claud. I'll bring you thither, my lord,lf you'll 
 vouchsafe me. 
 
 D. Pedro. Nay, that would be as great a soil in 
 :he new gloss of your marriage, as to show a child 
 lis new coat, and forbid him to wear it. I will only 
 je bold with Benedick for his company ; for, from 
 the crown of his head to the sole of his foot, he is 
 all mirth ; he hath twice orthrice cut Cupid's bow- 
 string-, and the little hangman dares not shoot at 
 niin : he hath a heart as "sound as a be'.l, and his 
 ongue is the clapper ; for what his heart thinks, his 
 .ongue speak?. 
 
 Bene. Gallants, I am not as I have been. 
 
 Leon. So say I ; methinks, you are sadder. 
 
 Claud. I hope, he be in love. 
 
 D. Pedro. Hang him, truant ; there's, no true 
 drop of blood in him, to be truly touch'd with lore : 
 The be sad, he wants money. 
 
 Bene. I have the tooth-ach. 
 
 D. Pedro. Draw it. 
 
 Bene. Hang it ! 
 
 Claud. You must hang it first, and draw it aflr 
 wards. 
 
 V. Pedro. What ? sigh for th tooth-ach ? 
 
 (5) EnsnarM with birdUm*
 
 128 
 
 MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. 
 
 Act lit. 
 
 Leon. Where is but a humour, or a worm? 
 
 Bent. Wall, every one can master a grief, but 
 he that has it. 
 
 Claud. Yet say I, he is in love. 
 
 D. Pedro. There is no appearance of fancy in 
 him, unless it be a fancy that he hath to strange dis- 
 guises; as, to be a Dutchman to-day; aFrenchman 
 to-morrow ; or in the shape of 'two countries at 
 once, as a German from the waist downward, all 
 slop; 1 and a Spaniard from the hip upward, no 
 doublet : unless he have a fancy to this foolery, as 
 it appears he hath, he is no fool for fancy, as you 
 would have it appear he is. 
 
 Claud. If he be not in love with some woman, 
 there is no believing old signs : he brushes his hat 
 o'mornings ; what should that bode ? 
 
 D. Pedro. Hath any man seen him at the barber's ? 
 
 Claud. No, but the barber's man hath been seen 
 with him ; and the old ornament of his cheek hath 
 already stuffed tennis-balls. 
 
 Leon. Indeed, he looks younger than he did, by 
 the loss of a beard. 
 
 D. Pedro. Nay, he rubs himself with civet : can 
 you smell him out by that ? 
 
 Claud. That's as much as to say, the sweet 
 youth's in love. 
 
 D. Pedro. The greatest note of it is his melan- 
 choly. 
 
 Claud. And when was he wont to wash his face ? 
 
 D. Pedro. Yea, or to paint himself? for the 
 which, I hear what they say of him. 
 
 Claud. Nay, but his jesting spirit ; which is now 
 crept into a lutestring, and now governed by stops. 
 
 D. Pedro. Indeed, that tells a heavy tale fpr him : 
 conclude, conclude, he is in love. 
 
 Claud. Nay, but I know who loves him. 
 
 D. Pedro. That would I knoiv too ; I warrant, 
 one that knows him not. 
 
 Claud. Yes, and his ill conditions ; and, in de- 
 spite of all, dies for him. 
 
 D. Pedro. She shall be buried with her face up- 
 wards. 
 
 Bene. Yet is this no charm for the tooth-ach. 
 Old signior, walk aside with me : I have studied 
 eight or nine wise words to speak to you, which 
 these hobby-horses must not hpar. 
 
 [Exeunt Benedick and Leonato. 
 
 D. Pedro. For my life, to break with him about 
 Beatrice. 
 
 Claud. 'Tis even so : Hero and Margaret have 
 by this played their parts with Beatrice ; and then 
 the two bears will not bite one another, when they 
 meet. 
 
 Enter Don John. 
 
 D. John. My lord and brother, God save you. 
 
 D. Pedro. Good den, brother. 
 
 D. John. If your leisure served, I would speak 
 with you. 
 
 D. Pedro. In private ? 
 
 D. John. If it please you ; yet count Claudio 
 may hear; for what I would speak of concerns him. 
 
 D. Pedro. Whit's the matter ? 
 
 D. John. Means your lordship to bn married to- 
 morrow? [To Claudio. 
 
 D. Pedro. You know he does. 
 
 D. John. I know not that, when he knows what 
 I know. 
 
 Claud. If there be any impediment, I pray you 
 discover it. 
 
 D. John. You may think I love you not; let 
 that appear hereafter, and aim better at me by that 
 I now will manifest : for my brother, I think, he 
 
 (\) Large loose breeches, 
 
 holds you well ; and in dearness of heart hath holp 
 to effect your ensuing marriage: surely, suit ill 
 spent, and labour ill bestowed ! 
 
 D. Pedro. Why, what's the matter? 
 
 D. John. I came hither to tell you ; and, cir- 
 cumstances shortened, (for she hath been too long 
 a talking of,) the lady is disloyal. 
 
 Claud. Who? Hero? 
 
 D. John. Even she ; Leonato's Hero, your Hero, 
 every man's Hero. 
 
 Claud. Disloyal? 
 
 D. John. The word is too good to paint out her 
 wickedness ; I could say, she were worse ; think 
 you of a worse title, and I will fit her to it. Won- 
 der not till further warrant : go but with me to- 
 night, you shall see her chamber-window entered ; 
 even the night before her wedding-day : if you love 
 her then, to-morrow wed her; but it would better 
 fit your honour to change your mind. 
 
 Claud. May this be so / 
 
 D. Pedro. I will not think it. 
 
 D. John. If you dare not trust that you see, con- 
 fess not that you know : if you will follow me, I 
 will show you enough ; and when you have seen 
 more, and heard more, proceed accordingly. 
 
 Claud. If I see any thing to-night why I should 
 not marry her to-morrow ; in the congregation, 
 where I should wed, there will I shame her. 
 
 D. Pedro. And, as I wooed for thee to obtain 
 her, I will join with thee to disgrace her. 
 
 D. John. I will disparage her no farther, till you 
 are my witnesses : bear it coldly but till midnight, 
 and let the issue show itself. 
 
 D. Pedro. O day untowardly turned ! 
 
 Claud. O mischief strangely thwarting ! 
 
 D. John. plague right well prevented ! 
 So will you say, when vou have seen the sequel. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE III.Jl street. Enter Dogberry and 
 Verges, with the Watch. 
 
 Dogb. Are you good men and true ? 
 
 Vcrg. Yea, or else it were pity but they should 
 suffer salvation, body and soul. 
 
 Dogb. Nay, that were a punishment too pood for 
 Ihem, if they should have any allegiance in them, 
 being chosen for the prince's watch. 
 
 Verg. Well, give them their charge, neighbour 
 Docrberry. 
 
 Dogb. First, who think you the most desartless 
 man to be constable. 
 
 1 Watch. Hugh Oatcake, sir, or George Seacoal ; 
 for they can write and read. 
 
 Dogb. Come hither, neighbour Seacoal. God 
 hath blessed you with a good name : to be a well- 
 favoured man is the gift of fortune ; but to write 
 and read comes by nature. 
 
 2 Watch. Both which, master constable, 
 
 Dogb. You have; I knew it would be your an- 
 swer. Well, for your favour, sir, why, give God 
 thanks, and make no boast of it ; a'nd for your 
 writing and reading, let that appear when there is 
 no need of such vanity. You are thought here to 
 be the most senseless and fit man for the constable 
 of the watch ; therefore bear you the lantern : this 
 is your charge ; you shall comprehend all vagrom 
 men : you are to bid any man stand, in the prince's 
 name. 
 
 2 Watch. How if he will not stand ? 
 
 Dogb. Why then, take no note of him, but let 
 him go ; and presently call the rest of the watch 
 together, and thank God you are rid of a knave. 
 
 Verg. If he will not stand when he is bidden, ht 
 is none of the prince's subjects,
 
 Sttne 111. 
 
 MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. 
 
 12U 
 
 Dogb. True, and they are to meddle with none [ now forward with thy talc. 
 
 but the prince's subjects : you shall also make no| Bora, Stand thee close then under this penthouse, 
 noise in the streets; for, for the watch to babble and for it drizzles rain; and I will, like a true drunkard, 
 
 talk, is most tolerable, and not to be endured. 
 
 2 Watch. \Ve will rather sleep than talk ; we 
 know what belongs to a watch. 
 
 Dogb. Why, you speak like an ancient and most 
 quiet watchman ; for I cannot see how sleeping 
 should offend: only, have a care that your bills' be 
 not stolen: Well, you are to call at all the ale- 
 houses, and bid those that are drunk gel them to bed. 
 
 -2 Watch. Ho-.v if they will not? 
 
 Dogb. Why then, let them alone till they are so- 
 ber ; if they make you not then the better answer, 
 you may say, thev are not the men you took themfor. 
 
 2 Watch. Well, sir. 
 
 Dogb. If you meet a thief, you may suspect him, 
 by virtue of your office, to be no true man : and, 
 for such kind of men, the less you meddle or make 
 with them, why, the more is for your honesty. 
 
 2 Watch. It we know him to be a thief, shall we 
 not lay hands on him ? 
 
 Dagb. Truly, by your office, you may ; but I 
 think, they that touch pitch will be defiled : the 
 most peaceable way for you, if you do take a thief, 
 is, to let him show himself what he is, and steal out 
 of your company. 
 
 Verg. You have been always called a merciful 
 man, partner. 
 
 Dogb. Truly, I would not hang a dog by my will ; 
 much more a man who hath any honesty in him. 
 
 Verg. If you hear a child cry in the night, you 
 must call to the nurse, and bid her still it. 
 
 2 Watch. How if the nurse be asleep, and will 
 not hear us ? 
 
 Dogb. Why then, depart in peace, and let the 
 child wake her with cryinar; for the ewe that will 
 not hear her lamb when it baes, will never answer 
 a calf when he bleats. 
 
 Verg. 'Tis very true. 
 
 Dogb. This is the end of the charge. You, con- 
 
 Enter Borachio and Conrade. 
 Bora. What! Conrade, 
 Watch. Peace, stir not. [Aside. 
 
 Bora. Conrade, I say ! 
 Con. Here man, I am at. thy elbow. 
 Bora. Mass, and my efbow itched ; I thought 
 there would a scab follow. 
 
 Con. I will owe thee an answer for that ; and 
 
 fl) Weapons of the watchmen. 
 
 (2) Unpractised in the ways of Uic world. 
 
 tittf.-r all to thee. 
 
 Watch. [.Iside.] Some treason, masters; yet 
 stand close. 
 
 Born. Therefore know, I have earned of Don 
 John a thousand ducats. 
 
 Con. Is it possible that any villany should be so 
 dear? 
 
 Bora. Thou should'st rather ask, if it were pos- 
 sible any villany should be so rich ; for when such 
 villains have need of poor ones, poor ones may 
 make what price they will. 
 
 Co?!. I wonder at it. 
 
 Bora. ThtU sho'.vs thou art unconfirmed j* thou 
 knowest, that the fashion of a doublet, or a hat, or 
 a cloak, is nothing: to a man. 
 
 Con. Yes, it is apparel. 
 
 Bora. I mean the fashion. 
 
 Con. Yes, the fashion is the fashion. 
 
 Bora. Tush ! I may as well say, the fool's the 
 fool. B at scest thou not what a deformed thief this 
 fashion is? 
 
 Watch. I know that Deformed ; he has been a 
 vile thief this seven jear ; he aoes up and down 
 
 "! a crentleman : I remember his name. 
 
 Bora. Didst thou not hear somebody? 
 
 Con. No ; 'twas the vane on the house. 
 
 Bw. Scest thou not, I say, what a deformed 
 thisf this fashion is? how giddily he turns about 
 all the hot bloods, between fourteen and five and 
 thirfv? sometime, fashioning' them like Pharaoh's 
 =oldiersin the reechy 3 painting; sometime, like god 
 Bel's priests in the old church window ; sometime, 
 like the shaven Hercules in the smirched* worm- 
 eaten tapestry, where his cod-piece seems as massy 
 as his club ? 
 
 Con. All this I sec ; and see, that the fashion 
 wears out more apparel than the man : but art not 
 thou thyself giddy with the fashion too, that thou 
 
 stable, are to present the prince's own person ; if hast shifted 'out of thy tale to tell me of the 
 you meet the prince in the night, you may stay him. p - 
 
 Verg. Nay, by'r lady, that I think he cannot. 
 
 Dogb. Five shillings to one on ; t, wilh any man 
 that knows the statues, he may stay him : marry, 
 not without the prince be willing: for, indeed, the 
 watch ought to offend no man ; and it is an offence 
 to stay a man against his will. 
 
 Ver*. By'r lady, I think, it be so. 
 
 Dog-6. Ha, ha, ha ! Well, masters, good nisrht : 
 an there be any matter of weight chances, call up 
 me : keep your fellows' counsels and your own, 
 and (roodnfght. Come, neighbour. 
 
 2 Watch. Well, masters, we hear our charcre : 
 let us go sit here upon the church-bench till two, 
 and then all to bed. 
 
 Dogb. One word more, honest neighbours: I 
 pray you, watch about signior Leonato's door ; for 
 the wedding bein? there to-morrow, there is a great 
 coil to-night: adieu, be vigilant, I beseech you. 
 
 [Exeunt Dogberry and Verges. 
 
 fashion ? 
 
 Bora. Xot =o neither: but know, that I have to- 
 niorht wooed Margaret, the lady Hero's gentlewo- 
 man, by the name of Hero: she leans me out at 
 iier mistress' chamber- window, bids me a thousand 
 times good night. I tell this tale vilely : I should 
 first tell thee, how the prince, Claudio, and my 
 master, planted and placed, and possessed by rny 
 master Don John, saw afar off in the orchard this 
 amiable encounter. 
 
 Con. And thouiht they, Margaret was Hero ? 
 
 Bora. Two of them did, the prince and Claudio; 
 but the devil my master knew she was Margaret; 
 and partly by his oaths, which first possessed them, 
 partly by the dark ni<rht, which did deceive them, 
 but chiefly bv my villany, which did conf.rm any 
 slander that Don" John had made, away went Clau- 
 dio enrasred: swore he would meet her as he was 
 appointed, next morning 1 at the temple, and there, 
 before the whole congregation, shame her with 
 what he saw over-night and send i.ei nome again 
 without a husband. 
 
 1 Watch. We charge you in the prince's name, 
 stand. 
 
 2 Watch. Call up the right master constable : 
 we have here recovered the most dansrerous piece 
 of lechery that ever was known in the common- 
 wealth. 
 
 1 Watch. And one Deformed is one of them ; I 
 know him, he wears a lock. 
 
 (3) Smoked. (4) SoUei
 
 130 
 
 MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. 
 
 Act HI. 
 
 Con, Masters, masters. 
 
 2 Watch. You'll be made bring Deformed forth, 
 I warrant you. 
 
 Con. Masters, 
 
 1 Watch. Never speak ; we charge you, let us 
 obev you to go with us. 
 
 Bora. We are like to prove a goodly commodity, 
 being taken up of these men's bills. 
 
 Con. A commodity ia question, I warrant you. 
 
 Come, we'll obey you. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE IV. A room, in Leonato's house. En- 
 ter Hero, Margaret, and Ursula. 
 
 Hero. Good Ursula, wake my cousin Beatrice, 
 and desire her to rise. 
 Urs. 1 will, lady. 
 Hero. And bid her come hither. 
 
 Urs. Well. 
 
 [Exit Ursula. 
 
 .Varg-. Troth, I think, your other rabato 1 were 
 better. 
 
 Hero. No, pray thee, good Meg, I'll wear this. 
 
 Jttar<r. By my troth, it's not so good ; and I war- 
 rant, your cousin will say so. 
 
 Hero. My cousin's a fool, and thou art another ; 
 I'll wear none but this. 
 
 Jtfarg. 1 like the new tire 2 within excellently, 
 if the hair were a thought browner : and your 
 Down's a most rare fashion, i'faith. I saw the 
 duchess of Milan's gown, that they praise so. 
 
 Hero. O, that exceeds, they say. 
 
 Marg. By my troth it's but a night-gown in re- 
 spect oT yours : Cloth of gold, and cuts, and laced 
 with silver ; set with pearls, down sleeves, side- 
 sleeves, 1 and skirts round, underborne with a bluish 
 tinsel : but for a fine, quaint, graceful, and excel- 
 
 Marg. Well, an you be not turned Turk, there's 
 
 no more sailing by the star. 
 
 Beat. What means the fool, trow? 
 
 Marg. Nothing I ; but God send every on 
 their heart's desire! 
 
 Hero. These gloves the count sent me, they are 
 an excellent perfume. 
 
 Beat. I am stuffed, cousin, I cannot smell. 
 
 Marg. A maid, and stuffed ! there's goodly 
 catching of cold. 
 
 Beat. 0, God help me ! God help me ! how 
 ,ong have you profess'd apprehension 1 
 
 jlarg. Ever since you left it : doth not my wit 
 Become me rarely ? 
 
 Beat. It is not seen enough, you should wear 
 it in your cap. By my troth, I am sick. 
 
 Marg. Get you some of this distilled Carduua 
 Benedietus, and lay it to your heart ; it is the only 
 :hin<* for a qualm. 
 
 Hero. There thou prick'st her with a thistle. 
 
 Beat. Benedictus ! why Benedictus ? you have 
 some moral 5 in this Benedictus. 
 
 t'rg. Moral? no, by my troth, I have no moral 
 meaning ; I meant, plain holy thistle. You may 
 ,hink, perchance, that I think you are in love : 
 lay, by'r lady, I am not such a fool to think what 
 [ list ; 'nor I list not to think what I can ; nor, in- 
 deed, I cannot think, if I would think my heart 
 out of thinking, that you are in love, or that you 
 will be in love, or that you can be in love : yet 
 Benedick was such another, and now is he become 
 a man : he swore he would never marry ; and yet 
 now, in despite of his heart, he eat.s his meat with- 
 out grudginsr : and how you may be converted, I 
 know nof ; but mcthinks, you look with your eyes 
 
 lent fashion, your's is worth ten on't. 
 
 Hero. God give me joy to wear it, for my heart 
 is exceeding heavy ! 
 
 Marg. 'Twill fie heavier soon, by the weight of 
 a man. 
 
 Hero. Fie upon thce ! art not ashamed ? 
 
 Marg. Of wnat, lady ? of speaking honourably ? 
 Is not marriage honourable in a beggar 1 Is not 
 your lord honourable without marriage ? I think 
 you would have me say, saving your reverence, 
 a husband: an bad thinking do not wrest true 
 speaking, I'll offend nobody : Is there any harm in 
 the heavier for a husband ? None, I think, an il 
 it be the right husband, and the right wife ; other- 
 wise, 'tis light, and not heavy : Ask my lady Bea- 
 trice else, here she comes. 
 
 Enter Beatrice. 
 
 Hero. Good morrow, coz. 
 
 Beat. Good morrow, sweet Hero. 
 
 Hero. Why, how now ! do you speak in the sick 
 tune? 
 
 Beat. I am out of all other tune, methinks. 
 
 Marg. Clap us into Light o' love ; that goes 
 without a burden ; do you sing it, and I'll dance it. 
 
 Beat. Yea, Light o' love, with your heels ! 
 then if your husband have stables enough, you'l 
 see he shall lack no barns. 
 
 Marg. O illegitimate construction * I scorn that 
 with my heels. 
 
 Beat. 'Tis almost five o'clock, cousin ; 'tis time 
 you were ready. By my troth I am exceeding ill ; 
 fley ho ! 
 
 Marg. For a hawk, a horse, or a husband ? 
 
 Beat. For the letter that begins them all, H.* 
 
 (1 ) A kind of ruff. (2) Head-dress. 
 
 (3) Long'sleevea, (4) t. , far an <W/K or pain, 
 
 as other women do. 
 Beat. W T hat pace, is this that thy tongue keeps 7 
 Marg. Not a false gallop. 
 
 Re-enter Ursula. 
 
 Urs. Madam, withdraw ; the prince, the count, 
 signior Benedick, Don John, and all the gallant* 
 
 of the town, are come to fetch you to church. 
 
 Hero. Help to dress me, good coz, 
 rood Ursula. 
 
 jood Meg, 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE V. Another mom in Leonato's house. 
 Enter Leonato, with Dogberry and! Verges. 
 
 Leon. What would you with me, honest neigh- 
 bour? 
 
 Dogb. Marry, sir, I would have some confi- 
 dence with you, that decerns you nearly. 
 
 Leon. Brief, I pray you ; for you see, 'tis a busy 
 time with me. 
 
 Dogb. Marry, this it i, sir. 
 
 Verg. Yes, in truth it is, sir. 
 
 Leon. What is it, my good friends ? 
 
 Dogb. Goodman Verges, sir, speaks a little ofl' 
 the matter : an old man, sir, and his wits are not 
 so blunt, as, God help, I would desire they were ; 
 but, in faith, honest, as the skin between his brows. 
 
 Verg. Yes, I thank God, I am as honest as any 
 man Hvincr, that is an old man, and no honeste'r 
 than I. 
 
 Dogb. Comparisons are odorous : palabras, 
 neighbour Verges. 
 
 Leon. Neighbours, you are tedious. 
 
 Dogb. It pleases your worship to sav so, but we 
 are the poor duke's officers ; but, truly, for mine 
 own part, if I were as tedious as a king, I could 
 find in my heart to bestow it all of your worship. 
 
 Leon. All thy tediousness on me ! ha ! 
 
 (S) Hidden meaning.
 
 Sime I. 
 
 MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. 
 
 131 
 
 Dogb. Yes, and 'twcrft a thousand times more 
 than *tis : for I hear as good exclamation on your 
 worship, as of any man in the city ; and though I 
 be but a poor man, I am glad to hear it. 
 
 Vtrg. And so am I. 
 
 Leon. I would fain know what you have to say. 
 
 Ver%. Many, sir, our watch to-ni<rht, except- 
 ing your worship's presence, have ta'en a couple 
 
 ofas" arrant knaves as any in Me ssina. Give me this maid, your daughter ? 
 
 Dogb. A good old man, sir; he will be talking ; Leon. As freelv, son, as God did give her me. 
 as they say, When the a^e is in, the wit is out ; Claud. And what have I to gire you back, whose 
 God help us! it is a world to see! 1 Well said.! worth, 
 
 i'faith, neighbour Vercres : well, God's a goon ; May counterpoise this rich and precious gift. 
 
 Leon. I dare make his answer, none. 
 
 Claud. O, what men dare do ! what men mar do ! 
 what men daily do ! not knowing what they do ! 
 
 Bene. How now ! interjections ? Why, then 
 sonin be of laughing 1 , as, ha ! ha ! he ! 
 
 Claud. Stand thee by, friar : Father, by your 
 
 leave ; 
 Will you with free and unconstrained soul 
 
 7). Ptdro. Nothing, unless you render her again. 
 Claud. Sweet prince, you learn me noble thank- 
 fulness. 
 
 There, Leonato, take her back again ; 
 Give not this rotten orange to your friend ; 
 Leon. Indeed, neighbour, he comes too short of She's but the sign and semblance of her honour : 
 
 Behold, how like a maid she blushes here : 
 0, what authority and show cf truth 
 Can cunning sin'cover itself withal ! 
 
 man ; an two men ride of a horse, one must ride 
 behind: an honest soul, i'faith, sir; b_v my troth 
 he is, as ever broke bread : hut, God is to be wor- 
 shipped : all men are not alike ; alas, good neigh- 
 bour ! 
 
 you. 
 
 Do%b. Gifts, that God gives. 
 Leon. I must leave vou. 
 
 Dogb. One word, sir : our watch, sir, have, in- 
 deed, comprehended two auspicious persons, and 
 
 Comes not that blood, as modest evidence, 
 
 To witness simple virtue ? Would you not swear, 
 
 we would have them this morning examined before j All you that see her, that she were "a maid, 
 your worship. j By these exterior shows ? But she is none : 
 
 Leon. Take their examination yourself, and bring: She knows the heat of a luxurious* V>ed: 
 it me ; I am now in great haste, as it may appearjHer blush is guiltiness, not modesty. 
 
 unto you. 
 Do'gb. It shall be suffiganee. 
 Lton. Drink some wine ere you go : fare you well. 
 
 Enltr a Messenger. 
 
 Jlesf. My lord, they stay for you to give your 
 daughter to'her husband. 
 
 Leon. What do you mean, my lord ? 
 ^ Claud. Not to be married, 
 
 Not knit my soul to an approved wanton. 
 
 Lean. Dear my lord, if you, in your own proof 
 Have vanquish'd the resistance of her youth, 
 And mr.de defeat of her virginity, - 
 
 Cluit;'. I know what you would say ; If I har 
 known her, 
 
 You'll say, she did embrace me as a husband. 
 
 Leon. I will wait upon them ; I am readv. 
 
 r ji r A* A t -\i ~ * " u l ^>i>5 anc UAU tJiiiuiacc me ua 
 
 [Exeunt Leonato and MeMertgw. A , e i, cniiate the ' fore hand sin: 
 Do?*. Go good partner, go; get .you to I-nnc.s| N Leonato 
 
 SeaC" Hi/< nimi linn^r RIB rif?i nnfl intrHnrn tri tnol. * 
 
 gaol 
 
 ; to you ? 
 
 ecmmg! l will write against it: 
 some oi mem u> a non coir .- omy gei ine icarneu y ml f me a ^ Dian in 5 hcr orb 
 
 writer to set down our excommuiucation, and meet; V: f , mste as jn the bud ere - t be b , Q ' wn 
 
 oaU *"' Bat you are more intemperate in your blood 
 
 . Ven:i, or those pamper'd animals 
 That rage in savage sensuality. 
 //era." Is my lord well, th'at he doth speak co 
 
 wide '!* 
 
 I^eon. Sweet prince, why speak not you ? 
 D. Pedro. What should I speak ? 
 
 |T smnd dishcnour'd, that have gone about 
 Leon. Come, friar Francis, be brief; only to the j'f o link my dear friend to a common stale. 
 
 r_ f r : A .,,. .v.n :* .i,_:. l. e on. Are these things spoken? or do I but dream? 
 
 D. John. Sir, they are spoken, and these things 
 
 arc true. 
 
 Bene. This looks not like a nuptial. 
 Hero. True, God ' 
 
 . Leonatn, stand I here ? 
 
 ACT IV. 
 
 SC.V I. The inside of a church. En'er Don 
 Pedro, Don John, Leonato, Friar, Claudio, 
 Benedick, Hero, and Beatrice, ice. 
 
 plain form of marriage, and you shall recount their 
 particular duties afterwards. 
 Friar. You come hither, my lord, to marry this 
 
 lady ? 
 
 Claud. No. 
 
 Lton. To be married to her, friar ; you come to 
 marrv her. |Is this the prince '! Is this the prince's brother 7 
 
 Friar. Lady, you come hither to be married toils this face Hero's ? Are our eyes our own ? 
 this count ? j Leon. All this is so ; but what cf this, my lord ? 
 
 Hero. I do. Clw.'-l. Let me but move one question to your 
 
 Friar. If either of you know any inward impedi- daughter ; 
 
 men! why you should not be conjoined, I chargejAnd, by that fatherly and kindly power 
 
 you, on your souls, to utter it. 
 Claud. Know you any, Hero? 
 Hero. None, my lord. 
 Friar. Know you any, count? 
 
 (1) It is worth seeing, 
 
 (3) Licentious. 
 
 (2) Lascivious. 
 
 That you have in her, bid her answer truly. 
 
 Leon. I chanre thee do so, as thou art my child. 
 
 Hero. O God defend me ! how am I beset ! 
 What kind of catechizing call you this? 
 
 Claud. To make you answer truly to your name, 
 
 (4) Remote from the business in hand,
 
 J32 
 
 MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. 
 
 Act IV. 
 
 Hero. Is it not' Hero ? Who can bjot that name 
 With any just reproach? 
 
 Claud. Marry, that can Hero ; 
 
 Hero itself can blot out Hero's virtue. 
 What man was he talk'd with you yesternight 
 Out at your window, betwixt twelve and one ? 
 Now, if you are a maid, answer to this. 
 
 Hero. I talk'd with no man at that hour, my lord. 
 
 D. Pedro. WTiy, then are you no maideu. 
 
 Leonato, 
 
 I am sorry you must hear ; upon mine honour, 
 Myself, my brother, and this srrieved count, 
 Did see her, hear her, at that hour last nip-lit, 
 Talk with a ruffian at her chamber-window ; 
 Who hath, indeed, most like a liberal 1 villain, 
 Confess'd the vile encounters they have had 
 A thousand times in secret. 
 
 D. John. Fie, fie ! they are 
 
 Not to be nam'd, my lord, not to be spoke'of j 
 There is not chastity enough in language,* 
 Without offence, to utter them : thus, pretty lady, 
 1 am sorry for thy much misrrovcrnnienl. 
 
 Claud. O Hero! what a Hero ha4st thou been, 
 If half thy outward "races had been placed 
 About thy thoughts, and counsels of thy heart ! 
 But, fare thee well, most foul, most fair ! farewell, 
 Thou pure impiety, and impious purity ! 
 For thee I'll lock up all the gales of love, 
 And on my eye-lids shall conjecture hang, 
 To turn all beauty into thoughts of harm, 
 And never shall it more be gracious. 2 
 
 Leon, Hath no man's dagger here a point for 
 me ? [Hero ,iroo)w. 
 
 Beat. Why, how now, cousin? wherefore sink 
 you down ? 
 
 D.John. Come, let us go: these things, coinc 
 
 thus to light, 
 Smother her spirits up. 
 
 [Exeunt Don Pcdr.o, Don John, and Claudio. 
 
 Bene. How doth th^ lady ? 
 
 Beat. Dead, I think ; help, uncle ; 
 
 Hero ! why, Hero! Uncle ! Signior Benedick ! 
 friar ! 
 
 Leon. O fate, take not awav thy heavy hand ! 
 Death is the fairest cover for her shame, 
 That may be wish'd for. 
 
 Beat. How now, cousin Hero ? 
 
 Friar. Have comfort, lady. 
 
 Leon. Dost thou look up ? 
 
 Friar. Yra ; wherefore should she not ? 
 
 Leon. Wherefore ? Why, doth not every earthly 
 
 thing 
 
 Cry shame upon her ? Could she here deny 
 The story that is printed in her blood? 
 Do not live, Hero ; do not ope thine eves : 
 For did I think thou would'st not quickly die, 
 Thought I thy spirits wore stronger th:ui thy shames, 
 Myself would, on tlv.- rearward 6T reproaches, 
 Strike at thy life, t ri'-v'd L, I h;td but one ? 
 Chid I for that at frucral nature's frame ? 3 
 O, one too much by thee ! Why had I one ? 
 W r hy ever wast thou lovely in my eyes ? 
 Wmr had I not, with cJsr-.rita.ble liniij, 
 Too"k up a beggar's isr-.ie at my "rates ; 
 Who smirched" thus, and mired with infamy, 
 I might have said, JVb part of it is mine, 
 This shame derives itself from unknown loins 1 
 But mine, and mine I lov'd, and mine I prais'd, 
 And mine that I was proud on ; mine so much, 
 That I myself was to myself not mine, 
 Valuing of her ; why, she 0, she is fallen 
 
 (1) Too free of tongue. 
 (S) Disposition of things. 
 
 (2) Attractive. 
 
 Into a pit of ink ! that the wide sea 
 Hath drops too few to wash her clean again ; 
 And salt too little, which may season give 
 To her foul tainted flesh ! 
 
 Bene. Sir, sir, be patient : 
 
 For my part, I am so attir'd in wonder, 
 I know not what to sav. 
 
 Bent. O, on my soul, mv cousin is belied ! 
 
 Bene. Lady, were you her bedfellow last night? 
 
 Beat. No, truly, not : although, until last night, 
 I have this twelvemonth been her bedfellow. 
 
 Leon. Confirm'd, confirm'd! O, that is stronger 
 
 made, 
 
 Which was before barr'd up with ribs of iron ! 
 Would the two princes lie ? and Claudio lie ? 
 Who lov'd her so, that, speaking of her foulness^ 
 Wash'd it with tears ? Hence from her ; let her die. 
 
 Friar. Hear me a little ; 
 For I have only been silent so lone, 
 And given way unto this course of fortune, 
 By noting of the lady : I have mark'd 
 A thousand blushing apparitions start 
 Into her face ; a thousand innocent shames 
 In anjtel whiteness bear away those blushes ; 
 Aisii in her eye there hath appear'd a fire, 
 To burn tbe errors that these princes hold 
 Against her maiden truth : Call me a _fool ; 
 Trust not my reading, nor my observations, 
 Which with experimental seal doth warrant 
 The tenor of my book ; trust not my 
 My reverence, calling, nor divinity, 
 If this sweet lady lie not guiltless'hcre 
 Under some biting error. 
 
 Lean. . Friar, it cannot be : 
 
 Thou seost, that all the grace that she hath left, 
 Is, that *he will not add to her damnation 
 A sin of perjury ; she not denies it : 
 Why seek'st thou then to cover with excuse 
 That which appears in proper nakedness ? 
 
 Friar. Lady, w hat man is he you are accused of? 
 
 Hero. They know thai do accuse ine ; I know 
 
 none : 
 
 If I know more of any man alive, 
 Than that which maiden modesty doth warrant, 
 Let all my sins lack mercy ! O my father. 
 Prove you that any man with me convers'd 
 At hours unmeet, or that I yesternight 
 Maintain'd the change of words with any creature, 
 Refuse me, hate me, torture me to death. 
 
 Frirr. There is som,e strange misprision* in the 
 princes. 
 
 Bene. Two of them have the very bent of honour ; 
 And if their wisdoms be misled in this, 
 The practice of it lives in John the bastard, 
 Whose spirits toil in frame of villanics. 
 
 Lean. I know not; if they ?peak but truth of her, 
 Thuse hands shall tear her; if they wrong her 
 
 honour, 
 
 The proudest of them shall well hear of it. 
 Time hath not yet : ; o cirk'il this blood of mine, 
 Nor ag-e so cat up my invention, 
 Nor fortune made such havoc of mv means, 
 Nor my b:;d life reft me so much of friends, 
 But they slinll fnut, nwak'd in such a kind, 
 Both strength of limb, and policy of raind, 
 Ability in means, and choice of friends, 
 To quit me of them thoroughly. 
 
 Friar. Pause a while, 
 
 And let my counsel sway you in this case. 
 Your daughter here the princes left for dead ; 
 Let her a while be secretly kept in. 
 And publish it, that she is' dead indeed 
 
 (4) Sullied, 
 
 (5) Misconception,
 
 Seme I. 
 
 MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. 
 
 133 
 
 Maintain a mourning ostentation ; 
 And on your family's old monument 
 Hang- mournful epitaphs, and do all rites 
 That appertain unto a burial. 
 Leon. YVhat shall become of this? What will 
 
 this do ? 
 Friar. Marry, this, well carried, shall on her 
 
 behalf 
 
 Chansre slander to remorse ; that is some good : 
 But not for that dream I on this strange course, 
 But on this travail look for greater birth. 
 She dying, as it must be so maintain'd, 
 Upon the instant that she was accus'd, 
 Shall be lamented, pitied, and cxcus'd, 
 Of every hearer : for it so fails out, 
 That what we hare we prize not to the worth, 
 Whiles' we enjoy it ; but being lacked and lost, 
 Why, then we rack- the value ; then we find 
 The virtue, that possession would not show us 
 Whiles it was ours : So will it fare with Clau- 
 
 dio : 
 
 When he shall hear she died upon 3 his words, 
 The idea of her life shall sweetly creep 
 Into his study of imagination ; 
 And every lovely oraan of her life 
 Shall come apparell'd in more precious habit, 
 More moving-delicate, and full of life, 
 Into the eye and prospect of his soul, 
 Than when she liy'd indeed : then shall he mourn 
 (If ever love had interest in his liver,) 
 And wish he had not so accused her ; 
 No, though he thought his accusation true. 
 Let this be so, and unubt not but success 
 Will fashion the event in better shape 
 Than I can lay it down in likelihood. 
 But if all aim" but this be levell'd false, 
 The supposition of the lady's death 
 Will quench the wonder of her infamy: 
 AnJ, if it sort not well, you may conceal her 
 (As best befits her wounded reputation,) 
 in some reclusive and religious iii'c, 
 Out of ail eyes, tongues, minds, and injuries. 
 
 Dene. Signior Leonato, let the friar adviVe you: 
 And though you know my inwardness 4 and love 
 Is very much unto the prince and CJaudio, 
 Yet, by mine honour, I will deal in thii 
 As secretly, and justlv, as your o-iui 
 Should with your body. 
 
 Leal. As strange as the thin? I know not: it 
 were as possible for me to say, I loved nothing so 
 well as you: but believe me not; and yet I lie not; 
 I confess nothing, nor I deny nothing: I am sorry 
 for rny cousin. 
 
 Bene. By my sword, Beatrice, thou lovest me. 
 
 Beat. Do not swear by it, and eat it. 
 
 Bene. I will swear by it, that you love me ; 
 and I will make him eat it, that says, I love not 
 you. 
 
 Beat. Will you not eat your word ? 
 
 Btne. With no sauce that can be devised to it 
 I protest I love thee. 
 
 Beat. Why then, God forgive me ! 
 
 Bene. Wfiat offence, sweet Beatrice? 
 
 Beat. You have staid me in a happy hour ; I 
 was about to protest I loved you. 
 
 Bene. And do it with all thy heart. 
 
 Beat. I love you with so much of ay heart, that 
 none is left to protest. 
 
 Leon. 
 
 Being that I flow in grief, 
 
 Bene. Come, bid me do any tiling for thee. 
 
 Beat. Kill Ciaudio. 
 
 Bene. Ha ! not for the wide world. 
 
 Beat . You kill me to deny it : farewell. 
 
 Bene. Tarry, sweet Beatrice. 
 
 Beat. I am gone, though I am here ; there is 
 no love in you : nay, I pray you, let me go. 
 
 Bene. Beatrice, 
 
 Beat. In faith 1 will go. 
 
 Bene. AVe'll be friends first. 
 
 Beet. You dare easier be friends with me, than 
 fight with mine enemy. 
 
 Bene. Is Ciaudio thine enemy ? 
 
 Beat. Is he not approv'd in the height a villain, 
 that hath slandered, scorned, dishonoured my kins- 
 woman? O, that I were a man! What! bear 
 her in hand, 5 until they come to take hands ; and 
 then with public accusation, uncovered slander, 
 unmitigated rancour, O God, that I were a man ! 
 1 would eat his heart in the market-place. 
 
 Bene. Hear r;se, Beatrice ; 
 
 Beat. Talk ->;iia a Liaii out at a window? a 
 proper savin? ! 
 
 Bene. Nay but, Beatrice ; 
 
 Beat. Sweet Hero! she is wronged, she is 
 slandered, she is undone. 
 
 Bent. Beat 
 
 Beat. Princes, and counties!' Surely a princely 
 
 The smallest twine may lead me. 
 
 Friar. 'Tis well consented ; presently awav ; 
 For to strange sores strangely they strain the 
 cure. 
 
 testimony, a goodly count-eonfect ;' a sweet gal- 
 lant, surely ! O that I were a man for his sake ! or 
 that I had any friend would be a man for my sake ! 
 But manhood is melted into courtesies, 8 valour into 
 (compliment, r.nd men are only turned into tongue, 
 
 Come, lady, die to live : lS:is wedding day, land trim ones t;io : he is now"as valiant as Ilercu- 
 
 Perhaps, is but prolonged : have patience 1 , and'les, that only tells a lie, and swears it :-^I cannot 
 endure. [Exe. Friar, Hero, anrfLeon. : be a man with wishing, therefore I will die a wo- 
 Bene. Lady Beatrice, have you wept all this;ma:i witligrievhig. 
 
 while? 
 
 Beat. Yea, and I will weep a while longer. 
 Bene. I will not desire that. 
 Beat. You have no reason, I do it freely. 
 Bene. Surely. I do believe your fair cousin is 
 
 Bene . Tarry, good Beatrice : by this hand I love 
 thee. 
 
 Bi\tt. Use it for my love some other way than 
 swearing iiy it. 
 
 B^ne. Think vou in your soul the count Ciaudio 
 
 wrong'd. Jhath wronged Hero ? 
 
 Beat. Ah, how much might the man deserve of Beat. Yea, as sure as I have a thought, or a 
 me, that would right her ! soul. 
 
 Bene. Is there any way to show such friendship?! Bene. Enough, I am engaged, I will challenge 
 
 Beat. A very even way, but no such friend. 
 Bene. May a man do it ? 
 Beat. It is a man's oifice, but not yours. 
 Bene. I do love nothing in the world so well as 
 you ; is not that strange 1 
 
 (1) WTiile. 
 '4) Intimacy. 
 
 (2) Over-rate. (3) By. 
 (5) Delude her with hopes. 
 
 irn ; I will kiss your hand, and so leave you : by 
 lis hand, Ciaudio shall render me a dear account': 
 
 ill ni 
 this 
 
 as you hear of me, so think of me. Go. comfort 
 your cousin: I must say, she is dead ; and so fare- 
 well. [Exeunt. 
 
 (6) Noblemen. (7) A nobleman made out of sugar 
 (8) Ceremony.
 
 134 
 
 MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. 
 
 Act V. 
 
 
 Verg. Let them be in band. 1 
 
 Con. Off, coxcomb ! 
 
 Dogb. God's my life ! where's the sexton ? let 
 him write down the prince's officer, coxcomb. 
 Come, bind them : - Thou naughty varlet ! 
 
 Con. Awav ' you are an ass, you are an ass. 
 
 D*S*- D' st & not Pcct my place ? Dost 
 - that he were here 
 
 SCENE II. Jl prison.- Enter Dogberry, Ver- 
 ges, and Sexton, in gowns; and the Watch, 
 
 with Conrade ana Borachio. 
 
 Dogb. Is our whole dissembly appeared ? 
 
 Verg. 0, a stool and a cushion for the sexton! 
 
 Sexton. Which be the malefactors ? 
 
 Dosb. Marrv. that am I and my partner. 
 
 Vtrg. Nay/that's certain ; we have the exhibi- h " ot su *P ect y >' ea " ? T C i that he were here 
 tion io examine i wrlte me down an ass ! but, masters, remein- 
 
 Sextm. But whiclrare the offenders that are to bej b ^, that I am an ass; though it be not written 
 examined ? let them come before master constable. d J ^ ior **t not that I am an ass :-N o, thou 
 
 DoSf- Yea, marrv, let them come before iuc.-! villa '. tho " art ?' piety, asshall.be proved 
 What is vour name,' friend ? j u P on lh ? e . b 7 & ood witness. I am a wise fellow ; 
 
 Bo a 'Borachio (and, which is more, an olhcer; and, which is more, 
 
 Do'b. Pray write down-Borachio. Jours, 1 a . householder : and, which is more, as prettv a 
 
 .,>, J [piece ol flesh as an v is in Messina; and one that 
 
 - i knows the law, 
 
 Con'. I am a gentleman, sir, and my name fellows tnt s law go to; and a iich fellow enough, 
 p I |20 to ; and a fellow that hath had losses ; and one 
 
 n*.' Write down-master gentleman Con-! ihat f hath two gowns, and even- thing handsome 
 .-Masters, do vou serve Gofl about him : -Bring him away. 0, that I had been 
 
 n _ V. a s l r wc hope. wnt lowa-*u ass. [nf. 
 
 rade 
 
 Con. Bora. 
 
 Dogb. Write down that they hope they serve 
 God: and write God first; for God defend but 
 God should go before such villains ! Masters, it is 
 proved already that you are little better than fal.se 
 knaves ; and it will go near to be thought so shortly. 
 How answer you for yourselves? 
 
 Con. Marry, sir. we say we are none. 
 
 Dogb. A marvellous wittv fellow, I assure you ; 
 but I will go about with him. Come you hither, 
 sirrah : a word in vour ear, sir ; I say to you, it is 
 thought you are false knaves. 
 
 jBora. Sir, I say to you, we arc none. 
 
 Dogb. Well, stand aside. 'Fore God, they are 
 6oth in a tale: have you writ down that they are 
 none ? 
 
 Sexton. Master constable, you go not the way to 
 
 Enter 
 
 ACT V. 
 
 SCENE L Before Leonato's hcuse. 
 Leonato and Antonio. 
 
 .Int. If you go on thus, you will kill yourself; 
 And 'tis not wisdom, thus to second grief 
 Against yourself. 
 
 Leon, I pray thee, cease thy counsel, 
 
 Which falls into mine ears as profitless 
 As water in a sieve : give i;ot me counsel ; 
 Nor let no camforter delight mine car, 
 But such a one whose wrongs do suit wilh mine. 
 Bring me a father, that so lov'd his rhild, 
 
 examne; you must call forth the watch that arc i 
 their accusers. 
 
 . J. v . * her is oyerwhelmM like mine, 
 
 er accusers. bid h> m 'V&& of patience : 
 
 Dos-b. Yea, marrv, that's the eftest way: Let Mealure his wo the length and breadth of mine, 
 the watch come forth : Masters, I charge" you, in And let it answer every strain for strain ; 
 the prince's name, accuse these men. As "M" <r thus, and such a grief for such, 
 
 1 Watch. This man said, sir, that Don John, Jn every lineament, branch, shape, and form : 
 e prince's brother, was a villain. If such a one will smile, and stroke his beard ; 
 
 Dosrb. Write down prince John a villain. | ry T sorrow, wag! and hem, when he should groan, 
 " 
 
 the prince's brother, 
 
 Dogb. Write do 
 
 Why "this is flat perjury, to call a prince's brother 
 villain. 
 
 Boj-a. Master constable, 
 
 Dogb. Pray thee, fellow, peace ; I do not like 
 thy look, I promise thee. 
 
 Sexton. What heard you him say else ? 
 
 2 Watch. Marry, that he had received a thou- 
 sand ducats of Don John, for accusing the lady 
 Hero wrongfully. 
 
 Dogb. Flat burglary, as ever was committed. 
 
 Verg. Yea, by the mass, that.it is. 
 
 Sexton. What else, fellow '/ 
 
 1 Watch. And that Count Claudio did mean, 
 upon his words, to disgrace Hero before the whole 
 assembly, and not marry her. 
 
 1)056. O villain ! thou wilt be condemned into 
 everlasting redemption for this. 
 Sexton. What else? 
 
 2 Watch. This is all. 
 
 Sexton. And this is more, masters, than you can 
 deny. Prince John is this morning secretly stolen 
 
 tch grief with proverbs ; make misfortunes drunk 
 With candle-wasters ; bring him yet to me, 
 And I of him will gather patience. 
 But there is no such man : For, brother, men 
 Can counsel, and speak comfort to that grief 
 Which they themselves not feel ; but, tasting it, 
 Their counsel turns to passion, whioh before 
 Would give preceptia! medicine to rage, x 
 Fetter strong madness in a silken thread, 
 Charm ache with air, and agony with words : 
 No, no ; 'tis all men's oilice to "speak patience 
 To those that wring under the load of sorrow ; 
 But no man's virtue, nor sufficiency, 
 To be so moral, when he shalj endure 
 The like himself: therefore give me no counsel : 
 My griefs cry louder than advertisement. 1 
 
 .flnt. Therein do men from children nothing differ. 
 
 Lewi. I pray thee, peace : I will be flesh and 
 
 blood ; 
 
 For there was never yet philosopher, 
 That could endure the tooth-ach patiently ; 
 
 away: Hero was in this manner accused, in this] However they have writ the style of gods, 
 very manner refused, and upon the grief of this, And madc \ P lsh - at chance and sufferance, 
 suddenly died. Master constable, let these men ,^it. Yet bend not all the harm unpn yourself : 
 be bound, and brought to Leonato's ; I will go 
 
 before, and show him their examination. 
 Dogb. Come, let them be opinioned. 
 
 (1) Bond, 
 
 Make those, that do offend you, suffer too. 
 [Exit. J-eon. There thou speak'st reason : nay, I will 
 
 do so. 
 
 'My soul doth tell me. Hero is belied ; 
 (2) Admonition, 'And that shdl Claudio know, so shall the prince,
 
 Bctntl. 
 
 MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. 
 
 135 
 
 And all of them, that thus dishonour her. 
 Enter Don Pedro and Claudio. 
 
 Jtit. Here comes the prince, and Claudio, hastily. 
 
 D. Pedro. Good den, good den. 
 
 Claud. Good day to both of you. 
 
 Leon. Hear you mv lords, 
 
 D. Pedro. " We have some haste, Leonato. 
 
 Leon. Some haste, my lord ! well, fare you 
 
 well, my lord : 
 Are you so hasty now ? well, all is one. 
 
 D'. Pedro. Nay, do not quarrel , with us, good 
 old man. 
 
 .int. If he could rieht himself with quarrelling, 
 Some of us would lie low. 
 
 Clavd, Who wrongs him ? 
 
 Leon. ~ Marry, 
 
 Thou, thou dost wrong me ; thoii dissembler, thou : 
 Nay, never lay thy hand upon thy sword, 
 I fear thee not. 
 
 Clai'.d. Marry, beshrew my hand, 
 
 If it should give your agt,- .such cause of fear : 
 In faith, my hand meant nothing to my sword. 
 
 Leon. Tush, tush, man, never fleer and jest at ine : 
 I speak not like a dotard, nor a fool ; 
 A*, under privilege of age, to brag 
 What I have done btiny young, or what would do, 
 Were I not old: Know, Claudio, to thy head, 
 Thou hast so wrong'd mine innocent child and me, 
 That I am forc'd to lay my reverence by ; 
 And, with tray hairs, and bruise of many days, 
 Do challenge thee to trial of a man. 
 I say, thou hast belied mine innocent child ; 
 Thy slander hath gone through and through her 
 
 heart, 
 
 And she lies buried with her ancestors : 
 O ! in a tomb where never scandal slept, 
 Save this of her's framed by thy villany. 
 
 Clwul. My villany '! 
 
 Leon. ~ Thine, Clatidio ; thine I say. 
 
 D. Pedro. You say not right, old man. 
 
 Leon. My lord, my lord, 
 
 I'll prove it on his body, if he can- : 
 Despite his nice fence, and his active practice, 1 
 His May of youth, and bloom of lustyhood. 
 
 Claud. Away, I will not have to do with you. 
 
 Leon. Canst thou so ilaff me/ Thou hast kilPd 
 
 my child ; 
 If thou kill's* me, boy, thou shalt kill a man. 
 
 .int. He shall killtwo of us, and men indeed : 
 But that's no matter; let him kill one first : 
 AVin me and wear me, let him answer me, 
 Come, follow me, boy ; come, boy, follow me : 
 Sir boy, I'll whip you from your ibining 2 fence ; 
 Nay, as I am a gentleman, I will. 
 
 L*on. Brother, 
 
 .int. Content yourself: God knows, I lov'd my 
 
 niece ; 
 
 And she is dead, slander'd to death by villains ; 
 That dare as well answer a man, indeed, 
 As I dare take a serpent by the tongue : 
 Bovs, apes, braggarts, Jacks, milksops ! 
 
 Leon. Brother Antony, 
 
 .Int. Hold you content ; What, man ! I know 
 
 them, yea, 
 
 And what they weigh, even to the utmost srrnple : 
 Scrambling, out-facing, fashion-mong'ring bovs, 
 That lie, and cog, and flout, deprave and slander, 
 Go anticly, and shew outward hideousness, 
 And speak off half a dozen danrerous words, 
 How they might hurt their enemies, if they durst, 
 And this is all. 
 
 (1) Skill in fencing, (2) Thrusting. 
 
 Leon. But, brother Antony, 
 
 .Int. Come, 'tis no matter ; 
 
 Do not you meddle, let me deal ii> this. 
 
 D. Pedro. Gentlemen both, we will not wake 
 
 your patience. 
 
 My heart is sorry for your daughter's death ; 
 But, on my honour, s.he was charged with nothing 
 But what was true, and very full of proof. 
 
 Leon. My lord, my lord, 
 
 D. Pedro. I will not hear you. 
 
 Leon. No? 
 
 Brother, away : I will be heard ; 
 
 .Lit. And shall, 
 
 Or some of us will smart for it, 
 
 [Exeunt Leonato and Antonio. 
 
 Enter Benedick. 
 
 D. Pedro. See, see, here comes the man we weat 
 to seek. 
 
 Claud. Now, signior! what news ? 
 
 Bene. Good day, my lord. 
 
 D. Pedro. Welcome, signior : You are almost 
 come to part almost a fray. 
 
 Claud. We had like to have had our two nose* 
 snapped off with two old men without teeth. 
 
 D. Pedro. Leonato and his brother : What 
 think'at thou ? Had we fought, I doubt, we should 
 hav: been too young for them. 
 
 Bene. In a false quarrel there is no true ralour. 
 I came to seek you both. 
 
 Claud. We have been up and down to seek thee ; 
 for we are high-proof melancholy, and would fain 
 have it beaten away : Wilt thou "use thy wit ? 
 
 Btne. It is in my scabbard ; shall I draw it ? 
 
 D. Pedro. Dost thou wear thy wit by thy side ? 
 
 Claud. Never any did so, though very many 
 have been beside their wit. I will Did thee draw 
 as we do the minstrels ; draw, to pleasure us. 
 
 D. Pedro. As I am an honest man, he looks pale : 
 Art thou sick or angry ? 
 
 Claud. What ! courage, man ! What though care 
 killed a cat, thou hast mettle enough in thee to kill 
 care. 
 
 Bene. Sir, I shall meet your wit in the career, an 
 you charge it against me : I pray you, choose 
 another subject. 
 
 Claud. Nay, then give him another staff; this 
 last was broke cross. 
 
 D. Pedro. By this light, he changes more and 
 more : I think, he be angry indeed. 
 
 Claud. If he be, he knows how to turn his girdle.' 
 
 Bene. Shall I speak a word in your ear ? 
 
 Claud. God bless me from a challenge ! 
 
 Bene. You are a villain ; I jest not : I will make 
 it good how you dare, with what you dare, and 
 when you dare : Do me right, or I will protest 
 your cowardice. You have'kiiled a sweet lady, 
 and her death shall fall heavy on you : Let me hesr 
 from you. 
 
 Claud. Well, I will meet you, so I may have good 
 cheer. 
 
 D. Pedro. What, a feast ? a feast ? 
 
 Claud. I'faith, I thank him : he hath bid* me to 
 a calPs-head aiid a capon ; the which if I do not 
 carve most curiously, sav, my knife's naugnt. 
 Shall I not find a woodcock too ? 
 
 Bene. Sir, your wit ambles well ; it goes easily. 
 
 D. Pedro. "I'll tell thee how Beatrice praised fhy 
 wit the other day : I said, thou hadst a fine wit ; 
 True, says she, a" fine lilllt one : *Vo. said I, a, great 
 wit ; Right, says she, c great gross one : Way, said 
 I, a good wit : Just, said she, it hurts nobody : 
 
 (3) To gire a challenge. _ (4) Inrited.
 
 430 
 
 MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. 
 
 V. 
 
 Nay, said I, the gentleman is icise ; Certain, said 
 she, a wise gentleman : Nay, said I, he hath the 
 tongues; That I believe, said she, for he swore a 
 thing to me on Monday night, which he forswore 
 en Tuesday morning; there'' s a double tongue; 
 there's hoo longiies. Thus did she, an hour toge- 
 ther, trans-shape thy particular virtues ; yet, at 
 last, she concluded with a sigh, thou wast the pro- 
 perest man in Italy. 
 
 Claud. For the which she wept heartily, and 
 said, she cared not. 
 
 D. Pedro. Yea, that she did ; but yet, for all 
 that, an if she did not hate him deadly, she would 
 love him dearly : the old man's daughter told us all. 
 
 Claud. All, all ; and moreover, God saw him 
 when he was hid in the garden. 
 
 D. Pedro. But when shall we set the savage 
 bull's horns on the sensible Benedick's head ? 
 
 Claud. Yea, and text underneath, Here dwells 
 Benedick the married man. 
 
 Bent. Fare you well, boy ; you know my mind ; 
 I will leave you now to your gossip-like humour : 
 you break jests as braggarts do their blades, which, 
 God be thanked, hurt not. My lord, for your many 
 courtesies I thank you: I must discontinue your 
 company ; your brother, the bastard, is fled from 
 Messina : you have, among: you, killed a sweet and 
 innocent lady : for my lord Lack-beard, there, he 
 and I shall meet ; and till then, peace be with him. 
 [Exit Benedick. 
 
 D. Pedro. He is in earnest. 
 
 Claud. In most profound earnest ; and, I'll war- 
 rant you, for the love of Beatrice. 
 
 D. Pedro. And hath challenged thee ? 
 
 Claud. Most sincerely. 
 
 D. Pedro. What a pretty thinar man is, when he 
 goes in his doublet and hose, and leaves on' his \vit ! 
 
 Enter Dogberry, Verges, and the Watch, with 
 Conrade and Borachio. 
 
 Claud. He is then a giant to an ape : but then is 
 an ape a doctor to such a man. 
 
 D. Pedro. But, soft you, let be ; pluck up, my 
 
 heart, and be sad ! 
 fled? 
 
 Did he not say my brother \vas 
 
 Dogb. Come, you, sir; if justice cannot tame 
 you, she shall ne'er weigh more reasons in her ba- 
 lance ; nay, an you be a cursing hypocrite once, 
 you must be looked to. 
 
 D. Pedro. How now, two of my brother's men 
 bound Borachio, one ! 
 
 Claud. Hearken to their offence, my lord ! 
 
 D. Pedro. Officers, what offence have these men 
 
 kill me. I have deceived even your very eyes: 
 what your wisdoms could not discover ? these shal- 
 low fools have brought to light ; who, in the night, 
 overheard me confessing to this man, how Don 
 John your brother incensed 2 me to slander the lady 
 Hero ; how you were brought into the orchard, 
 and saw me court Margaret in Hero's garments ; 
 !iow you disgraced her, when you should marry 
 iier : my villany they have upon record ; which I 
 tiad rather seal with my death, than repeat over to 
 my shame : the lady is dead upon mine and my 
 muster's false accusation ; and, briefly, I desire 
 nothing but the reward of a villain. 
 
 I). Pedro. Runs not this speech like iron through 
 your blood ? 
 
 Claud. I have drunk poison whiles he utter'd it. 
 
 D. Pedro. But did my brother set thee on to this ? 
 
 Bora. Yea, ana paid me richly for the practice 
 of it. 
 
 D. Pedro. He is compos'd and fram'd of trea- 
 chery: 
 And fled he is upon this villany. 
 
 Claud. Sweet Hero ! now thy image doth appear 
 In the rare semblance that I lov'd it first. 
 
 Dog-6. Come, bring away the plaintiffs ; by this 
 time our Sexton hath reformed signior Leonato of 
 the matter : and masters, do not forget to specify, 
 when time and place shall serve, that I am an ass. 
 
 Verg. Here, here comes master signior Leonato, 
 and the Sexton too. 
 
 Re-enter Leonato and Antonio, with the Sexton. 
 
 Leon. Which is the villain ? Let me see his eyes ; 
 That ivhen I note another man like him, 
 I may avoid him: Which of these is he? 
 
 Bora. If you would know your wronger, look on 
 me. 
 
 Leon. Art thou the slave, that with thy breath 
 
 hast kill'd 
 Mine innocent child? 
 
 Bora. Yea, even I alone. 
 
 Leon. No, not so, villain , thou bely'st thyself ; 
 Here stand a pair of honourable men, 
 A third is fled, that had a hand in it : 
 I thank you, princes, for my daughter's death ; 
 Record it with your high and woVthy deeds 
 'Twas bravely done, if you bethink you of it. 
 
 Claud. I know not how to pray your patience, 
 Yet I must speak : Choose your revenge yourself ; 
 Impose 3 me to what penance your invention 
 Can lay upon my sin ; yet sinn'd I not, 
 But in mistaking. 
 
 Dogb. Marry, sir, they have committed false re- 
 port ; moreover, they have spoken untruths ; se- 
 condarily, they arc slanders ; sixth and lastly, they 
 have belied a lady ; thirdly, they have verified un- 
 just things : and, to conclude, they are lying knaves. 
 
 D. Pedro. Firsi, I ask thee what ihcy have done : 
 thirdly, I ask thee what's Iheir offence ; sixlh and 
 lastly, why they are committed ; and, to conclude, 
 what you lay to their charge ? 
 
 Claud. Rightly reasoned, and in his own divi- 
 sion ; and, by my troth, there's one meaning well 
 suited. 
 
 D. Pedro. Whom have you offended, masters, 
 that you are thus bound "to your a:is\ver? this 
 learned constable is too cunning to be understood: 
 
 What's your offence? 
 Bora. Sweet prince. 
 
 let me go no further to 
 
 DUI tt, IJlVCtL pi 1IM0W| l**l nil* j^v* III* Illl LIICI IV 
 
 fljine answer ; do you hear me, and let this count 
 
 '!) Serious. 
 
 (2) Incited. 
 
 D. Pedro. 
 
 By my soul, nor I ; 
 
 And yet, to satisfy this good old man, 
 I would bend under any heavy weight 
 That he'll enjoin me to. 
 
 Leon. I cannot bid you bid my daughter live, 
 That were impossible ; but, I pray you both, 
 Possess 4 the people in Messina here 
 How innocent she died : and, if your love 
 Can labour ought in sad invention. 
 Hang her an epitaph upon her tomb, 
 And sing it to her bones ; sing it to-night : 
 To-morrow morning come you to my house ; 
 And since you could not be my son-in-law, 
 Be yet my nephew : my brother hath a daughter, 
 Almost the copy of my child that's dead, 
 And she alone is heir to both of us j 
 Give her the right you should have given her cousin, 
 
 And so dies my revenge. 
 Claud. 
 
 O, noble sir, 
 
 Your over-kindness doth wring tears from me! 
 (3) Common' 1 , (4) Acquaint.
 
 Scene II. 
 
 MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. 
 
 187 
 
 I do embrace your offer ; and dispose 
 For henceforth of poor Claudio. 
 
 Leon. To-morrow then I will expect your coming ; 
 To-nieht I take my leave. This naughty ixan 
 Shall face to face be brought to Margaret, 
 Who, I believe, was pack'd in all this wrong, 
 Hir'd to it by your brother. 
 
 Bora. No, by my soul, she was not ; 
 
 Nor knew not what she did, when she spoke to me ; 
 But always hath been just and virtuous, 
 In any thing that I do know by her. 
 
 Dogb. Moreover, sir, (which, indeed, is not un- 
 der white and black,) this plaintiff here, the oflen- 
 der, did call me ass : I beseech you, let it be re- 
 membered in his punishment : and also, the watch 
 heard them talk of one Deformed : they say, he 
 wears a key in his ear, and a lock hanging by it ; 
 and borrows money in God's name ; the which he 
 hath used so long, and never paid, that now men 
 grow hard-hearted, and will lend nothing for God's 
 sake : pray you, examine him upon that point. 
 
 Leon. I thank thee for thy care and honest pains. 
 
 Dogb. Your worship speaks like a most thankful 
 and reverend youth ; and I praise God for you. 
 
 Leon. There's for thy pains. 
 
 Dogb. God save the foundation ! 
 
 Leon. Go, I discharge thee of thy prisoner, and 
 I thank thee. 
 
 Dogb. I leave an arrant knave with your wor- 
 ship ; which, I beseech your worship, to correct 
 yourself, for the example of others. God keep you* 
 worship ; I wish your worship well ; God restore 
 you to health : I humbly give you leave to depart ; 
 and if a merry meeting may be wished, God prohi- 
 bit it, Come, neighbour. 
 
 [Exeunt Dogberry, Verges, and Watch. 
 
 Leon. Until to-morrow morning, lords, farewell. 
 
 .i/if. Farewell, my lords ; we look for you to- 
 morrow. 
 
 D. Pedro. We will not fail. * 
 
 Claud. To-nisjht I'll mourn with Hero. 
 
 [Exeunt Don Pedro and Claudio. 
 
 Leon. Bring you these fellows on ; we'll talk 
 
 with Margaret, 
 
 How her acquaintance grew with this lewd 1 fellow. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE II. Leonato's Garden. Enter Bene- 
 dick and Margaret, mteliny. 
 
 Bene. Pray thee, sweet mistress Margaret, de- 
 serve well at my hand;;, by helping me to the speech 
 of Beatrice. 
 
 Marg. Will you then wri'e me a sennet in praise 
 of my beauty '! 
 
 Bene. In so high a style, Margaret, that no man 
 living shall come over it ; for, in most comely truth, 
 thou deserves! it. 
 
 JUarg. To have no man come over me? why, 
 shall I always keep below stairs? 
 
 Bene. Thy wit is as quick as the greyhound's 
 mouih, it catches. 
 
 Jl/ar.e-. And your's as blunt as the fencer's foils, 
 which hit, but hurt not. 
 
 Bene. A most manly wit, Margaret, it will nc' 
 hurt a woman ; ami so I pray thee, call Beatrice : 
 I give thee the bucklers. 
 
 Marg. Give us the swords, we have bucklers c 
 our own. 
 
 Bene. If you use them, Maroraret, you must pu 
 in the pikes wi:h a vice ; and they are dangerous 
 weapons for maids. 
 
 Marg. Well, I will call Beatrice to yo;i, who, I 
 think, hath legs. [Exit Margaret. 
 
 (1) Ignorant. (2) Holiday chrases. 
 
 Bene. And therefore wilrceme. 
 
 The god of love, [Singing.] 
 
 That sits above, 
 Jlnd knows me, and knows me, 
 Hew pitiful I deserve, 
 
 mean, in singing ; but in loving, Leander the 
 good swimmer, Troilus the first employer of pan- 
 lars, and a whole book full of these quondam car- 
 >ei.-mongers, whose names yet run smoothly in the 
 :ven road of a blank verse, why, they were never 
 so trulv turned over and over as my poor self, in 
 ove: Marry, I cannot show it in rhyme: I have 
 ried ; I can find out no rhyme to lady but oaby, an 
 nnocent rhyme ; for scorn, horn, a hard rhyme ; 
 "or school, J'oot, a babbling rhyme ; very ominous 
 jndings : No, I was not born under a rhyming 
 >lanet, nor I cannot woo in festival terms.* 
 
 Enter Beatrice. 
 
 Sweet Beatrice, would'st thou come when I called 
 .hec? 
 
 Beat. Yea, sisnior, and depart when you bid me. 
 
 Bene . O. stay but till then ! 
 
 Beat. Tlien,'is spoken; fare you well now: 
 and yet, ere I f o, let me go with that I came for, 
 which is, with knowing what hath passed between 
 you and Claudio. 
 
 Bene. Only foul Fords ; and thereupon, I will 
 ,dss thee. 
 
 ,, Beat. Foul words is but foul wind, and foul wind 
 s but foul breath, end foul breath is noisome ; 
 therefore I will depart unkissed. 
 
 Bene. Thou hast frighted the word out of his 
 right sense, so forcible is thy wit : But, I must tell 
 thee plainly, Ciaiidio undergoes 1 my challenge ; 
 ar.d either I must shortly hear from him, or I will 
 subscribe him a coward. And, I pray thee now, 
 tell me, for which of my bad parts didst thou first 
 fall in love ivi:h me ? 
 
 Beat. For them all together ; which maintained 
 so politic a state of evil, that they will not admit 
 any good part to intermingle wilh them. But for 
 which of my good parts did you first suffer love 
 for me ? 
 
 Bene. Suffer lore ; a gcod epithet ! I do suffer 
 love, indeed, fcr I love thee against my will. 
 
 Beat. In spite of your heart, I think ; alas ! poor 
 heart ! If you spite it for my sake ; I will spite it 
 for yours ; for I will never love that which my 
 friend hates. 
 
 Bene. Thou and I arc tco xvise to wop pccccably. 
 
 Beat. It appeals not in this confession : there's 
 not one wise man among twenty that will praise 
 himself.- 
 
 Bene. An old, an old instance, Beatrice, that lived 
 in the time of coed neighbours : if a man do not 
 erect in this age his own tomb ere he dies, he shall 
 live no longer ia monument, than the bell rings, 
 and the w id ow weeps. 
 
 Btat. And how lone is that, think you ? 
 
 Bene. Question ? -Whv, an hour in clamour, 
 and a quarter in rheum : Therefore, i* is most expe- 
 dient for the wise (if Don Worm, his conscience, 
 find no impediment to the contrary,) to be the 
 trumpet of IT'S p-.vn virtues, as I am to myself: So 
 much for praising myself (who, 1 myself will bear 
 witness, is praiseworthy,) and HOW tell me, How 
 doth your cousin? 
 
 Beat. Very ill. 
 
 Bene. And how do you ? 
 
 Beat. Very ill too. 
 
 Bene. Serve God, love me, and mend: 
 
 (3) Is subject to, 
 S i
 
 1,18 
 
 MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. 
 
 Act f. 
 
 will I leave you too, for here comes one in haste. 
 Enter Ursula. 
 
 C/rs. Madam, you must come to your uncle ,,, 
 
 render's old coil 1 at home: it is proved my lady j Withdraw into a chamber by yourselves; 
 Hero hath been falsely accused, the prince and I And when I send for you, come hither mask'd : 
 Claudio mightily abused; and Don John is the 'The prince and Claudio promis'd by this hour 
 author of all, who is fled and gone : will you come To visit me : You know your olfice, brother ; 
 
 Jlnt. Well, I am glad that all things sort so well. 
 Bene. And so am I, being else by faith enforc'd 
 To call young Claudio to a reckoning for \t. 
 ; Leon. Wen, daughter, and you gentlewomen all, 
 
 it ' \\7li Vwli-ofir irfr* -a s)iimVui* \\V X*mirAlvP* 
 
 presently ? 
 
 Beat . Will you go hear this news, signior ? 
 
 Bene. I will live in thy heart, die in thy lap, and 
 be buried in thy eyes ; and, moreover, I will go 
 with thee to thy uncle's. [Exeunt. 
 
 SCEAT III. The inside of a church. Enter 
 Don Pedro, Claudio, and attendants with music 
 
 and tapers. 
 
 Claud. Is this the monument of Leonato? 
 Bitten. It is, my lord. 
 Claud. [Reads from a scroll.] 
 
 Done to death by slanderous tongues, 
 
 Was the Hero that here lies : 
 Death, in guerdmi 1 of her wrongs. 
 
 Gives her fame wHich never dies : 
 So the life, that died with shame, 
 Lives in death with glorious fainc. 
 
 [Affixing it. 
 
 Hang thou there upon the tomb, 
 Praising her when I am dumb.- 
 
 Now, music, sound, and sing 
 SONG. 
 
 You must be lather to your brother's daughter, 
 And give her to young Claudio. [Exeunt Ladies. 
 
 .in<. Which I will do with confirm'd countenance. 
 
 Bene. Friar, I must entreat your pains, I think. 
 
 Friar. To do what, signior ? 
 
 Bene. To bind me, or undo me, one of them. 
 Signior Leonato, truth it is, good signior, 
 Your niece regards me with an eye of favour. 
 
 Leon. That eye my daughter lent her ; 'Tis most 
 
 true. 
 
 Bene. And I do with an eye of love requite her. 
 Leon. The sight whereof, I think, you had from 
 
 me, 
 From Claudio, and the prince ; But what's vour 
 
 will .' 
 
 Bene. Your answer, sir, is enigmatical : 
 But, for my will, my will is, your good will 
 May stand with ours, this day to be conjoin'd 
 In the estate of honourable marriage ; 
 In which, cood friar, I shall desire your help. 
 Leon. My he:trt is with your liking. 
 Friar. And my help, 
 
 your solemn hymrtk!* Here comes the prince, and Claudio. 
 
 Enter Don Pedro and Claudio with attendants. 
 
 Pardon, Goddess of the night, 
 Those that slew thy virgin knight ; 
 For the which, with songs of wo, 
 Round about her tomb tney go. 
 Midnight, assist our moan ; 
 Help us tu sigh and groan, 
 
 Heavily, heavily : 
 
 Graves, yawn, and yield your dead, 
 Till death be uttered, 
 
 Heavily, heavily. 
 Claud. Now, unto thy bones good night ! 
 
 Yearly will I do this rite. 
 D. Pedro. "Good morrow, masters ; put your 
 
 torches out : 
 
 The wolves have prey'd ; and look, the gen- 
 tle day, 
 Before the wheels of Phoebus, round about 
 
 Dapples the drowsy east with spots of gray : 
 Thanks to vou all, and leave us ; fare you well. 
 Claud. Good morrow, masters ; each his several 
 
 way. 
 D. Pedro. Come, let us hence, and put on other 
 
 weeds : 
 And then to Leonato's we will go. 
 
 Claud. And, Hymen, now with luckier issue 
 
 speeds, 
 Than this, for whom we render'd up this wo ! 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE W. Jl room in Leonato's house. En- 
 ter Leonato, Antonio, Benedick, Beatrice, Ur- 
 sula, Friar and Hero. 
 
 Friar. Did I not tell you she was innocent ? 
 
 Lton. So are the prince and Claudio, who accus'd 
 
 her, 
 
 Upon the error that you heard debated : 
 But Margaret was in some fault for this ; 
 Although against her will, as it appears 
 IB the true course of all the question. 
 
 H) Stir 
 
 (2) Reward. 
 
 J). Pedro. Good morrow to this fair assembly. 
 
 Leon. Good morrow, prince ; good morrow, 
 
 Claudio ; 
 
 We here attend you arc vou yet determin'd 
 To-day to marry with my brother's daughter ? 
 
 Claud. I'll hokj my mind, were she an Ethiope. 
 
 Leon. Call her forth, brother, here's the friar 
 readv. [Exit Antonio. 
 
 D. Pedro. Good morrow, Benedick: Why, what's 
 
 the matter, 
 
 That you have such a February face, 
 So full of frost, of storm, and cloudiness ? 
 
 Claud. I think, he thinks upon the savage bull : 
 Tush, fear not, man, we'll tip thy horns with gold, 
 And all Europa shall rejoice at thee ; 
 As once Europa did at lusty Jove, 
 When he would play the noble beast in love. 
 
 Bene. Bull Jove,"sir, had an amiable low ; 
 And some such strange bull leap'd your father's 
 
 / cow, 
 
 And got a calf in that same noble feat, 
 Much like to you, for you have just his bleat. 
 
 Re-enter Antonio, icith the Ladies mask'd. 
 
 Claud. For this I owe you: here come other 
 
 reckonings. 
 Which is the lady I must seize upon ? 
 
 tint. This same is she, and I do give you her. 
 
 Claud. Why, then she's mine : Sweet, let me see 
 your face. 
 
 Leon. No, that you shall not, till you take her hand 
 Before this friar, and swear to marry her. 
 
 Claud. Give me your hand before this holy friar ; 
 I am your husband, if you like of me. 
 
 Hero. And when I lived, I was your other wife : 
 
 [ Unmasking. 
 
 And when you loved, you were my other husband. 
 
 Claud. Another Hero ? 
 
 Hero. Nothing certainer . 
 
 One Hero died defil'd ; but I do live, 
 And, surely as I live, I am a maid.
 
 MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. 
 
 133 
 
 D. Pedro. The former Hero ! Hero that is dead ! lit ; for man is a giddy thin?, and this is my eonelu- 
 
 Leon. She died, my lord, but wliiles her slander sion. For thv part, Claudio, I did think to hare 
 liv'd. j beaten thee; but in that 1 thou art like to be mjr 
 
 Friar. All this amazement can I qualify ; kinsman, live unbruised, and love my cousin. 
 
 When after that the holy rites are ended, 
 I'll tell you largely of fair Hero's death : 
 Mean time, let wonder seem familiar, 
 And to the chapel let us presently. 
 
 Bent. Soft and fair, friar. Which is Beatrice 1 
 
 Beat. I answer to that name ; [ Unmasking. 
 What is your will 1 
 
 Bent. Do not vou love me 1 
 
 Beat. 
 
 No, no more than reason. 
 
 Bine. Whv, then your uncle, and the prince, 
 
 and Claudio, 
 
 Have been deceived ; for they swore you did. 
 lie at . Do not you love me "! 
 Bent. No. no more than reason. 
 
 Beat. Why tlien, my cousin, Margaret, and 
 
 Ursula, 
 Are much deceiv'd ; for they did swear you did. 
 
 I had well hoped, thou vvou'ld'st have de- 
 nied Beatrice, that I might have cudgelled thee out 
 of thv single life, to make thee a double dealer ; 
 which, out of question, thou wilt be, if my cousin 
 do not look exceeding narrowly to thee. 
 
 Bene. Come, come, we are friends : let's have 
 a dance ere we are married, that we may lighten 
 our hearts, and our wives' heels. 
 
 Lewi. We'll have dancing- afterwards. 
 
 Bene. First, o' my word ; therefore, play, mu- 
 sic. Prince, thou art sad; get thee a wile, get 
 thee a wife : there is DO stall more reverend than 
 one tipped with horn. 
 
 Enter a Messenger. 
 
 Aless. Mv lord, vour brother John is ta'en in 
 flight, 
 
 Bene. They swore that you were almost sick forj An j brought with armed men back to Messina. 
 
 Bene. Think not on him till to-morrow ; I'll de 
 vise thee brave punislunents for him. Strike up, 
 
 [Done*. 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 pipers. 
 
 Beat. They swore that you were well-nigh dead 
 
 for me. 
 Bene. 'Tis no such matter : Then, you do not 
 
 love me ? 
 
 Beat. No, truly, but in friendly recompense. 
 Leon. Come, cousin, I am sure you love the 
 
 gentleman. 
 Claud. And I'll be sworn upon't, that he loves 
 
 her; 
 
 For here's a paper, written in his hand, 
 A halting sonnet of his own pure bruin, 
 Fashiou'd to Beatrice. 
 
 Hero. And here's another, 
 
 Writ in my cousin's hand, stolen from her pocket, 
 Containing her affection unto Benedick. 
 
 Bn\t. A miracle ! here's our own hands a<rainst|in the conversation of Beatrice, may be excused 
 our hearts! Come, I will have thee ; but, by thisjon account of the steadiness and friendship so ap- 
 light, I take thee for pity. (parent in her behaviour, when she urges her lover 
 
 1 to risk his life by a challenge to Claudio. In the 
 conduct of the fable, however, there is an imper- 
 fection similar to that which Dr. Johnson has point- 
 ed out in The Merry Wires of Windsor: the 
 second contrivance is less ingenious than the first : 
 or, to speak more plainly, the same incident is be- 
 come stale by repetition. I wish some other method 
 had been found to entrap Beatrice, than that very 
 one which before had been successfully practised on 
 
 This play may be justly ^said to contain two of 
 the most sprightly characters that Shakspeare ever 
 drew. The wit, the humourist, the gentleman, 
 and the soldier, are combined in Benedick. It is to 
 be lamented, indeed, that the first and most splen- 
 did of these distinctions, is disgraced by unneces- 
 sary profanercss ; for the goodness of his heart is 
 hardly sufficient to atone for the license of his 
 tongue. The too sarcastic levity, which flashes out 
 
 Beat. I would not deny you ; but, by this good 
 day, I yield upon great persuasion ; and, partly, to 
 nave your life, for I was told you were in a consump- 
 
 tion. 
 
 Bene. Peace, I will stop your mouth. 
 
 [Kitsing her. 
 D. Pedro. How dost thou, Benedick the married 
 
 man? 
 
 Bene. I'll tell thee what, prince ; a college of wit- 
 crackers cannot flout me out of my humour : dost 
 thou think, I care for a satire, or an epigram ; No : 
 if a man will be beaten with brains, he shall wear 
 nothing handsome about him : In brief, since I do 
 propose to marry, I will think nothing to any pur- 
 
 Benedick. 
 
 JUuch J1& 
 from one of 
 
 under the title of Benedick and Beatrix. Heming 
 the player received, on the 20th of Mav, 1613, the 
 
 r o Jlbmd .Voting- (as I understand 
 Mr. Vertae's MS'S.) formerly passed 
 
 pose that the world can say against it; and there- sum of forty pounds, and twenty pounds more as 
 fore never flout at me for what I have said against his majesty's gratuity, for exhibiting six plays at 
 
 Hampton Court, among which was this comedy. 
 (1) Because. 6TEEVENS.
 
 ( 140 
 
 MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S BREAM, 
 
 PERSONS REPRESENTED. 
 
 Theseus^ duke ofJithens. 
 Egeus, Jather to Hermia. 
 
 Philostrate, master of the revel* to Theseus, 
 
 Quince, the carpenter. 
 
 Snug, the joiner. 
 
 Bottom, the wearer. 
 
 Flute, the bellows-mender. 
 
 Snout, the tinker. 
 
 Starveling-, the tailor. 
 
 Hippolyta, queen of the Jlmazons, betrothed to 
 
 Theseus. 
 
 Hermia, daughter to Egeus, in love with Lysander. 
 Helena, in love with Demetrius. 
 
 Oberon, Idng of the fairies. 
 Titania, queen of the fairies. 
 Puck, or Robin Good-fellow, o fairy. 
 Peas-Blossom, -\ 
 
 Mustard-seed, ) 
 Pyramus, ~\ 
 
 wldl '' > Characters in the interlude, per- 
 Moonshine, C f wm ** ^ tlie Clowns. 
 Lion, J 
 
 Outer furies attending their king and queen. 
 
 Attendants on Tkessus and Hippolyta. 
 Scene, Jlthens, and a irood not far from it. 
 
 ACT I. 
 
 SCEJfE I. Athens. A room in the palace oj 
 Theseus. Enter Theseus, Hjppolyla, Philos- 
 trate, and attendants. 
 
 Theseus. 
 
 li OW, fair Hippolyta, our nuptial hour 
 Draws on apace: four luppy days bring in 
 Another moon : but, oh, mtfthinks, how" slow 
 This old moon wanes ! she lingers rny desires, 
 Like to a step-dame, or a dowager. 
 Long withering out a voung man's revenue. 
 
 Hip. Four days will quickly steep themselves in 
 
 nights : 
 
 Four nights will quickly dream away the lime ; 
 And then the moon, like to a silver bow 
 New bent in heaven, shall behold (he night 
 Of our solemnities. 
 
 The. Go, Philostrate, 
 
 Stir up the Athenian youth to merriments ; 
 Awake the pert and nimble spirit of mirth ; 
 Turn melancholy forih to funerals, 
 The pale companion is not for our pomp. 
 
 [Exit J'hilostralc. 
 
 Hippolyta. I woo'd thee with my sword, 
 And won thy love, doing thee injuries ; 
 But I will wed thee in another key, 
 With pomp, with triumph, 1 and with revelling. 
 
 Enter Egeus, Hermia, Lysander, and Demetrius. 
 
 Ese. Happy be Theseus, our renowned duke ! 
 
 The. Thanks, good Egeus : what's the news 
 with thee ? 
 
 E.S*. Full of vexation come I, with complaint 
 Against my child, my daughter Hermia. 
 Stand forth, Demetrius ; My noble lord, 
 This man hath my consent to marry her : 
 Stand forth, Lysander ; and, my gracious duke, 
 This hath bewitch'd the bosom of my child : 
 Thou, thou, Lysander, thou hast given her rhymes, 
 
 (1) Shows. 
 
 And interchang'd love-tokens with my child : 
 Thou hast by moon-light at her window sung, 
 With feigning voice, verses of feigning love ; 
 And stolen the impression of her fantasy 
 With bracelets df thy hair, rings, ga\tds, 2 conceits, 
 Knacks, trifles, nosepays, sweet-meats; messengers, 
 Of strong prevailment in unharden'd youth : 
 With cunninghast thou rilch'd my daughter's heart; 
 Turn'd her obedience, which is due to me, 
 To stubborn harsh:;- >a : ^ini, my gracious duke, 
 Be it so she will not here before your ^ race 
 Consent to marry with Demetrius, 
 
 Or to her death ; according to our law, 
 Immediately provided in that case. 
 
 The. What say you, Hermia? be advis'd, fair maid: 
 To you your Hither should be as a god ; 
 One that cotnpos'd your beauties ; yea, and one 
 To whom you are but as a form in was, 
 By him imprinted, and within his power 
 To. leave the figure, or disii'.rure it. 
 Demetrius is a worthy gentleman. 
 
 Htr. So is 'Lysander. 
 
 The. In himself he is: 
 
 But, in this kind, wanting your father's voice, 
 The othermust.be held the worthier. 
 
 Her. I would my lather look'd but with my eyes. 
 
 The. Rather your eyes must with his judgment 
 loolv. 
 
 II?r. I do entreat your frracc to pardon me. 
 I know not by what power I am made bold ; 
 Nor how it may concern my modesty, 
 In such a presence here, to plead rny thought? : 
 But I beseech your trrace that I may know 
 The worst that mayl>efal me in this case, 
 If I refuse to wed Demetrius. 
 
 The. Either to die the death, or to abjure 
 For ever the society of men. 
 Therefore, fair Hermia, question your desires, 
 Know of your youth, examine well your blood. 
 Whether, if you yield not to your father's choice,
 
 MIDSUMMER NIGHT'S DREAM. 
 Act IV. Scene 1, 
 
 LOVE'S LABOUR'S LOST, 
 
 Act IV. Scene 2.
 
 Scent I. 
 
 MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S DREAM. 
 
 You can endure the livery of a nun ; 
 
 For aye 1 to be in shady cloister mew'd, 
 
 To live a barren sister all your life, 
 
 Chanting taint hymns to the cold fruitless moon. 
 
 Thrice blessed tney, that master so their blood, 
 
 To undergo such maiden pilgrimage : 
 
 But earthiier happy is Ihe rose'distill'd, 
 
 Than that, which, withering on the virgin thora, 
 
 Grows, lives, and dies, in single blessedness. 
 
 Htr. So will I grow, so live, so die, my lord, 
 Ere I will yield my virgin patent up 
 Unto his lordship, whose unwished yoke 
 Mv soul consents not to give sovereignty. 
 
 ~T!u. Take time to pause : and, by the next now 
 
 moon 
 
 (The sealing-day betwixt my love and me, 
 For everlasting bond of fellowship,) 
 Upon that day either prepare to die, . 
 
 For disobedience to your father's will ; 
 Or else, to wed Demetrius, as he would: 
 Or on Diana's altar to protest, 
 For aye austeritv and single life. 
 
 Dem. Relent/sweet Hermia ; And, Lysander, 
 
 yield 
 Thy crazed title to my certain right 
 
 Lys. You have her father's love, Demetrius ; 
 Let me have Hermia's : do you marrv him. 
 
 Ege. Scornful Lysander ! true, he hath my love ; 
 And what is mine njy love shall render him ; 
 And she is mine ; and all my right of her 
 I do estate unto Demetrius." 
 
 Lys. I am, my lord, as well deriv'd as he, 
 As well possess-d ; my love is more than his ; 
 My fortunes every way as fairly rank'd, 
 If hot with vantage, as Demetrius' ; 
 And, which is more than all these boasts can be, 
 1 am belov'd of beauteous Hermia : ' 
 Why should not I then prosecute my right ? 
 Demetrius, I'll avouch it to his heaa, 
 Made love to Nedar's daughter, Helena, 
 And won her soul ; and she. sweet lady, dotes ; 
 Devoutly dotes, dotes in idol 
 Upon this spotted 1 and inconstant man. 
 
 The. I must confess, that i have heard so much, 
 And with Demetrius thought to have spoke thereof; 
 But, beine over-full of setf-affaira, 
 My mind did lose it But, Demetrius, come ; 
 And come, Etreus ; you shall rro with me, 
 I have some private schooling for you both. 
 For you, fair Hermia, look you arm yourself 
 To fit your fancies to your father's wl'l ; 
 Or else the law of Athens yield you u;> 
 (Which by no means we may extenuate,) 
 To death, 'or to a vow of single Hie. 
 C*ome, my Hippolyta ; what cheer, my love ? 
 Demetrius, ami Eixeus, go alon;r : 
 I must employ you in soine business 
 Against our nuptial ; and confer with you 
 Of something nearly that concerns yourselves. 
 
 Ege. With duty and drsire we fallow you. 
 
 [Exeunt Thes. Hip. Eye. Dem. and train. 
 
 Lys. How now, my love ? Why is your cheek 
 
 so pale ? 
 How chance the roses there do fade FO fast ? 
 
 Her. Belike for want of rain ; which I could well 
 Beteem them' from the tempest of mine eyes. 
 
 Lv. Ah me ! for aught that ever I could read, 
 Could ever hear by tale or history, 
 The course of true love never did" run smooth : 
 But, either it was different in blood ; 
 
 Her. O cross ! too high to be enthrall'd to low ! 
 
 Ever. 
 
 Black. 
 
 (2) Wicked. 
 (5) Lovers. 
 
 (3) Give, bestow. 
 (6) Pole-stars. 
 
 MI 
 
 Lys. Or else misgraffed, in respect of years ; 
 
 Her. spite ! too old to be engag'd to young I 
 
 Lys. Or else it stood upon the choice of friends . 
 
 Her. O hell ! to choose love by another's eye ! 
 
 Lys. Or, if there were a sympathy in choice, 
 i War, death, or sickness did lay siege to it ; 
 | Making it momentary as a sound, 
 Swift as a shadow, short as any dream ; 
 Brief as the lightning in the collied* night, 
 That, in a spleen, unfolds both heaven and earth, 
 And ere a man hath power to say, Behold ! 
 The ja'.ss of darkness do devour it up: 
 So quick bright things come to confusion. 
 
 Her. If then true lovers have been ever eross'd, 
 It stands as an edict in destiny : 
 Then let us teach our trial patience, 
 Because it is a customary cross ; 
 As 'due to love, as thoughts, and dreams, and 
 
 sighs, 
 Wishes, and tears, poor fancy's* followers. 
 
 Lys. A good persuasion ; therefore, hear me, 
 
 Hermia. 
 
 I have a widow aunt, a dowager 
 Of great revenue, and she hath no child : 
 From Athens is her house remote seven league* ; 
 And she respects me as her only son. 
 There, gentle Hermia, may I marry thee ; 
 And to that place the sharp Athenian law 
 Cannot pursue us : if thou lov'st me then, 
 Steal forth thy father's house to-morrow night ; 
 And in the wood, a league without the town, 
 Where I did meet thee once with Helena, 
 To do observance to a morn of May, 
 There will I stay for thee. 
 
 Her. My good Lysander : 
 
 I swear to thee, by Cupid's strongest bow ; 
 By his best arrow" with the golden head; 
 By the simplicity of Venus' doves ; 
 By that which knitteth souls, and prospers loves ; 
 And by that (ire which burn'd the Carthage queen, 
 When the false Trojan under sail was seen ; 
 By all the vows tha.1 ever men have broke, 
 In number more than ever women spoke ; 
 In that same place thou hast appointed me, 
 To-morrow truly will I meet with thee. 
 
 Lys. Keep promise, love: look, here comes 
 Helena. 
 
 Ent^r Helena. 
 
 Her. Godspeed fair Helena ! Whither away? 
 
 Htl. Call you me. fi-ir ? that feir atrain unsay. 
 Demetrius loves your fair : O happy fair ! 
 Your eye? are lode-stars ; s and your tongue's sweet 
 
 air 
 
 More tuneable than Urk to shepherd's ear, 
 When wheat is green, when hawthorn buds appear. 
 Sickness is catching ; O were favour' so I 
 Yours would I catch, fair Hermia, ere I go ; 
 My ear should catch vour voice, my eye your rye, 
 My tongue should catch vourtongue's sweet melodv. 
 Wore the world mine, Demetrius bein? bated, 
 The rest I'll cive to be to you translated. 
 O, tench me how you look ; and with what art 
 Yo'i sway the motion of Demetrius' heart. 
 
 Htr. I frown upon him, yet he loves me still. 
 
 Hel. 0, that your frowns would teach my smiles 
 such sk"ill ! 
 
 Her. I give him curses, yet he gives me love. 
 
 Hel. O, that my prayers could such affection 
 move ! 
 
 Her. The more I hate, the more he follows me. 
 
 Htl. The more I love, the more he hateth me, 
 
 (7) Countenance,
 
 . 
 
 142 
 
 MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S DREAM. 
 
 .fcf 
 
 Her. HU folly, Helena, la no fault of mine. 
 Hd. None, but your beauty ; 'would that fault 
 
 were mine ! 
 Her. Take comfort; he no more shall see my 
 
 face ; 
 
 Lysander and myself will fly this place. 
 Before the time I did Lysander ste, 
 Seem'd Athens as a paradise to me : 
 
 then, what graces in my love do dwell, 
 That he hath turn'd a heaven unto hell ! 
 
 Lys. Helen, to you our minds we will unfold : 
 To-morrow night when Phoebe doth behold 
 Her silver visage in the wat'ry glass, 
 Decking with liquid pearl the blatled grass 
 (A time that lovers' flights doth still conceal,) 
 Through Athene' gate* have we devis'd to steal. 
 
 Her. And in the wood, where oAcn you and I 
 Upon faint priiurose-bed.s were wont to lie, 
 Emptying- our bosoms of their counsel sweet: 
 There" my Lysander and myself shall meet: 
 And thence, from Athens, turn away our eyes, 
 To seek new friends and stranger companies. 
 Farewell, sweet playfellow ; prav thou for us, 
 And good luck grant thee thy Demetrius ! 
 Keep word, Lvsander : we must starve our sight 
 From lovers' food, till morrow deep midnight. 
 
 [Exit Hermia. 
 
 Lys. I will, my Hermia. Helena, adieu : 
 Ai you on him, Demetrius dote on vou ! 
 
 [Exit Lysander. 
 
 Hel. How happy some, o'er other some can be ! 
 Through Athens I am thought as fair as she. 
 But what of that 7 Demetrius thinks not so ; 
 He will not know what all but he do know. 
 And as he errs, doting on Hermia's eyes, 
 So I, admiring of his qualities, 
 Things base and vile, holding no quantity, 
 Love can transpose to form and dignity." 
 Love looks not with the eves, but with the mind ; 
 And therefore is wingsd Cupid painted blind : 
 Nor hath love's minJ of any judgment taste ; 
 Wings, and no eyes, figure unheedy haste: 
 And therefore is love said to be a child, 
 Because in choice he is so oft beguil'd. 
 As waggish boys in game 1 themselves forswear, 
 So the boy love i* perjur'd every where: 
 For ere Demetrius look'd on Hermia's eyne,* 
 He hail'd down oaths, that he was only mine ; 
 And when thi-% hail some heat from Hermia felt, 
 So he dissolv'd. and showers of oaths did nielt. 
 
 1 will go tell him of fair Hermia's flight : 
 Then to the wood will he, to-morrow night, 
 pursue her ; mul for this intelligence 
 
 If I hare thanks, it is a dear expense : 
 But herein mean I to enrich my pain, 
 To have his sight thither, and back again. [Exit. 
 
 SCE.VE II. The 3itm,f. .J room in a Cottage. 
 Enter Snug, Bottom, Flute, Snout, Quince, and 
 Starveling. 
 
 Quirt. Is all our company hrrc ? 
 
 Bot. You were, best to call them generally, man 
 by man, according to the scrip. 
 
 *Quin. Here is the scroll of every man's namp. 
 which is thought fit, through all Athens, to play in 
 our interlude before the duke and duchess, on* his 
 weddine-day at nisrht. 
 
 Bot. "First, good Peter Quince, sav what the 
 play treats on ; then read the names of the actors ; 
 ana so grow to a point. 
 
 Quiit. Marry, our play is The most lamcnta- 
 
 (1) Sport (t) Eye*, (3) As if. 
 
 Ible comedy, and most cruel death, of Pyrunu* and 
 'Thisby. " 
 
 Bot. A very good piece of work, I aasure you, 
 and a merry. Now, good Peter Quince, call forth 
 your actor* by the scroll : Masters, spread your- 
 selves. 
 
 Qutn. Answer, as I call you. Nick Bottom, 
 the weaver. 
 
 Hot. Ready: name what part I am for, and pjo- 
 ceed. 
 
 Qiun. You, Nick Bottom, are set down for Py 
 ramus. 
 
 Bot. What is Pyramus ? a lover, or a tyrant? 
 
 Qum. A lover, that kills himself most 'gallantly 
 for love. 
 
 Bot. That will ask some tears in the true per- 
 forming of it : If I do it, let the audience look to 
 their t-yi.s ; I will move storms, I will condole in 
 some measure. To the rest,: Yet my chief hu- 
 mour is for a tyrant: I could play Erclts rarely, 
 or a part to tear a cat in, to make all split. 
 " The raging rocks, 
 
 " With shivering shocks, 
 
 " Shall break the locks 
 
 " Of prison-gates : 
 " And Phibbus' car 
 " Shall shine from far, 
 " And make and mar 
 
 " The foolish fates." 
 
 jThis was lofty ! Now name the rest of the play- 
 ers. This is Ercles 1 vein ; a tyrant's vein ; a lovr 
 is more condoling. 
 
 Quin. Francis Flute, the bellows-mender. 
 
 Hu. Here, Peter Quince. 
 
 Quin. You must take Thisby on you. 
 
 Flu. What is Thisby ? a wandering knight 7 
 
 Qj.'in. It is the lady that Pyramus must love. 
 
 Fin. Nay, faith, fet me not play a woman ; 1 
 have a beard coming. 
 
 Q:/in. That's all one ; you shall play it in a 
 mask, and you may speak as small as you will. 
 
 Bot. An I may hide my face, let mc'play Thisby 
 too : I'll speak in a monstrous little voice ; TA/s'- 
 ne, Thisne, *'lh, Pyramus, my lover dear; thy 
 Thisby dtar ! and lady dear ! 
 
 Qutn. No, no ; you must play Pyramus, and, 
 Flute, you Thisby. 
 
 Bot. "Well, proceed. 
 
 QK?;I. Robin Starveling, the tailor. 
 
 fitar. Here ? Peter Quince. 
 
 Qw'tt. Robin Starveling, you must play Thisby's 
 mother. Tom Snout, the tinker. 
 
 finmit. Here, Peter Quince. 
 
 Qwn. You, Pyramus's father ; myself, Thisby's 
 father; Smiir, the joiner, you, the lion's part:' 
 and, I hope, here is a plav fitted. 
 
 ,S?n<-. Have you the lion's part written? pray 
 you, if it be, give it me, for I am slow of study. 
 
 Qut'n. You may dp it extempore, for it is nothing 
 but roaring. 
 
 Bot. Let me play the lion too : I will roar, that 
 I will do any man's heart good to hear me ; I will 
 roar, that I will make the duke say, Let him roar 
 again. L'.t him roar again. 
 
 Quiri. An you should do it too terribly, you 
 would fright ihe duchess and the ladies, that thev 
 would shriek : and that were enough to hung us all. 
 
 All. That would bans us every mother's son. 
 
 Bot. I grant you, friends, if that you should 
 fright the ladies out of their wits, they wtuld have 
 no more discretion but to hang us : but I will ag- 
 gravate my voice so, that I will roar you as a-ently 
 as any sucking dove ; I will rear you n* 'twr 
 any nightingale,
 
 Setne L 
 
 MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S DREAM. 
 
 143 
 
 Qutn. You can play no part but Pyramus : for 
 Pyramus is a sweet-faced man ; a proper man, as 
 one shall see in a summer's day ; a most lovely, 
 gentleman-like man ; therefore you must needs 
 plav Pyramus. 
 
 Bat. Well, I will undertake it. What beard 
 were I best to play it in ? 
 
 Qutn- Why, what you will. 
 
 Bot. I will discharge it in either vour straw- 
 coloured beard, your orange-tawny beard, your 
 purple-in-grain beard, or your Frehch-crown-co- 
 lour beard, your perfect yellow. 
 
 Qutn. Some ol'your French crowns have no hair 
 at all, and then you will play h.irt-f.iced. But, 
 masters, here are your parts : and I am to entreat 
 you, request you, "and desire you, to con them by 
 to-morrow night: and meet me in ihe palace wood, 
 a mile without the tov.n, by moon-light ; there will 
 we rehearse : for if %ve meet in the city, we shall 
 be dogg'd with company, and our devices known. 
 In the mean time I will draw a bill of properties, 1 
 such as our plav wants. I pray you, fail me not. 
 
 Bot. We will meet ; and there we may rehearse 
 more obscenely, and courageously. Take pains ; 
 be perfect; adieu. 
 
 Qutn. At the duke's oak we meet. 
 
 Bot. Enough ; Hold, or cut bow-strings.* [Exe. 
 
 ACT II. 
 
 SCD.VJB /. *J wood near Athens. Enter a Fairy 
 at one door, and Puck at another. 
 
 Puck. How now, spirit ! whither wander you ? 
 fai. Over hill, over dale, 
 
 Thorough bush, thorough brier, 
 Over park, over pale, 
 
 Thorough flood, tiioroucrh fire, 
 I do wander every where, 
 Swifter than the moones sphere ; 
 And I serve the fairy queen, 
 To dew her orbs 3 upon the green : 
 The cowslips tall her pensioners be ; 
 hi their gold coats spots you see ; 
 Those be rubies, fairy favours, 
 In those freckles live their savours : 
 I must go seek some dew-drops here, 
 And hang a pearl in every cowslip's ear. 
 Farewell, thou lob* of 5pirits. I'll be gone : 
 Our queen and all her elves come here anon. 
 
 :Call'd Robin Good-fellow : are you not be, 
 ' That fright the maidens of the villagerr ; 
 Skim milk ; and sometimes labour ID the quern,* 
 | And bootless make the breathless housewife churn , 
 ! And sometime make the drink to bear no barm ;' 
 'Mislead night- wanderers, laughing at their harm: 
 Those that Hobgoblin call you, and sweet Puck, 
 You do their work, and they shall hare good luck 
 Are not you he ? 
 
 Puck. Thou speak'st aright ; 
 
 I am that merry wanderer of Ihe night. 
 I jest to Oberon, and make him smile, 
 W' hen I a fat and bean-fed horse beguile, 
 Neighing in likeness of a filly foal : 
 Ana sometime lurk I in a gossip's bowl, 
 In very likeness of a roasted crab ;' 
 And, when she drinks, against her lips I bob, 
 And on her wither'd dew-lap pour the ale. 
 The wisest aunt, telling the saddest tale, 
 Sometime for three-foot, stool mistaketh me : 
 Then slip I from her bum, down topples she, 
 And tailor cries, and falls into a cough ; 
 And then the whole quire hold their hips, and loffej 
 And waxen in their mirth, and neeze, and swear 
 A merrier hour was never wasted there. 
 But room, Faery, here comes Oberon. 
 
 Fai. And here my mistress: 'Would that he 
 were gone ! 
 
 SCE.VE IL Enter Oberon, at one door, with hit 
 train, and Titania, at another, with hers. 
 
 Obe. Ill met by moon-light, proud Titania. 
 Tita. What, jealous Oberon? Fairy, skip hence ; 
 I have forsworn his bed and company. 
 
 Obe. Tarrv, rash wanton ; Am no't I thy lord? 
 Tita. Then I must be thy lady : But I k'now 
 When thou hast stol'n away from friry land, 
 And in the shape of Corin sal all day, 
 Playing on pipes of corn, and versing love 
 To amorous Phillida. Why art thou here, 
 jCome from the farthest stee'p of India ? 
 I But that forsooth, the bouncing Amazon, 
 iVour buskin'd mistress, and your warrior lore, 
 To Theseus must be wedded'; and you come 
 To zive their bed joy and prosperity. 
 
 Obe . How canst thou thu, for shame, Titania, 
 [Glance at my credit with Hippolyta, 
 i Knowing I know thv love to Theseus ? 
 j Didst thou not lead, kirn through the glimmering 
 
 night 
 
 ; From Perisrenia, whom be ratished? 
 ; And make him with fair 2Egl break his faith, 
 
 Puck. The king doth keep his revels here to-night; With Ariadne, and Antiopa? 
 Take heed, the queen come not within his sight. Tita. Thce are the forgeries of jealousy : 
 
 For Oberon is passing fell nnd wrath, And never, since the middle summer's spring, 
 
 Mr! we on hill, In dale, forest, or mead, 
 j By paved fountain, or by rushy brook, 
 |Or on the beached margent of" the sea, 
 >To dance our ringlets to the whistling wind, 
 JBut with thy brawls thou hast disturbed our sport : 
 I Therefore the winds, piping to us in vain, 
 
 Because that she, as her attendant, h;tth 
 A lovely boy, stol'n from an Indian king ; 
 She never had so sweet a chanyeling : 
 And jealous Oberon would have the child 
 Knight of his train, to trace the forests wild : 
 
 But she, perforce, withholds the loved hoy, t 
 
 Crowns him with flowers, and makes hiin all her' As in rovenge, hare suckvTup from the sea 
 jov : ; Contagious foars ; which falling in the land, 
 
 And now they never meet in trrovc, or green, jHave every pelting 16 river made so proud, 
 
 By fountain clear, or spangled star-light sheen,* [That they have overborne their continents.:' 
 But they do square ; e that all their elves, for fear, The ox hath therefore stretch'd his yoke in vain, 
 Creep into acorn cups, and hide them there. 'The ploughman lost his sweat ; and the green corn 
 
 Fat. Either I mistake your shape and making Hath rotted, ere his youth attain'd a beard : 
 quite, I The fold stands empty in the drowned field, 
 
 Or else you are that shrewd and knavish sprite, And crows are fatted with the murrain flock ; 
 
 (1) Articles required in performing a play. 
 () At all events. (3) Circles. 
 
 (4) A term of contempt, (5) Shining. 
 
 (6) Quarrel. (7) Mill. (8) Yeast. 
 
 (9) Wild apple. (10) Petty. 
 (11) Banks which contain them.
 
 144 
 
 MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S DREAM. 
 
 The nine men's morris" is fill'd up with mud ; 
 And the quaint mazes in the wanton green 
 For lack of tread, are unclistinguishatle : 
 The human mortals waul their winter here ; 
 No night is now with hymn or carol blest: 
 Therefore the moon, the governess of floods, 
 Pale in her anger, washes ail the air, 
 That rheumatic diseases do abound : 
 And thorough this distemperature, we see 
 The seasons alter: hoary-hsadad frosts 
 Fall in the fresh lap of the crimson rose ; 
 And on old Hyems' chin, an icy crown, 
 An odorous chaplcl of sweet summer buds 
 Is, as in mockery, set : The spring, the summer, 
 The child ing 2 autumn, angry winter, change 
 Their wonted liveries ; and the 'mazed world, 
 By their increase, 3 noiv knows not which is which : 
 And this same progeny of evils comes 
 From our debate, from our dissension ; 
 We are their parents and original. 
 
 Obe. Do you amend it then ; it lies in you : 
 W T hy should Titania cross her Oberon ? 
 I do but beg a little changeling boy, 
 To be my henchman.* 
 
 Tita. Set your heart at rest, 
 
 The fairy land buys not the child of me. 
 His mother was a vot r ress of my order : 
 And, in the spiced Indian air, by night, 
 Full often hath she gossip'd by my side ; 
 And sat with me on Neptune's yellow sands, 
 Marking the embarked traders on the flood ; 
 When we nave lauih'd to see the sails conceive, 
 And grow big-bellied, with the wanton wind : 
 Which she, with pret.lv and with swimming gait 
 (Following her womb, then rich with my young 
 
 'squire,) 
 
 Would imitate ; and sail upon the land, 
 To fetch me trifles, and return again, 
 As from a voyage, rich with merchandise. 
 But she, being mortal, of that boy did die ; 
 And, for her sake, 1 do rear up Her boy : 
 And, for her sake, I will not part with hi;n. 
 
 Obe. How long within this wood intend you stay? 
 
 Tita. Perchance, till after Theseus' wedding-day. 
 If you will patiently dance in our round, 
 And see our moon-light revel?, po v.-ilh i:s : 
 If not, shun me, and I will spare your haunts. 
 
 Obe. Give me that bay, and I will po with thee. 
 
 Tita. Not for thy kingdom. Fairies, away : 
 We shall chide downright, if I longer stay. 
 
 [Eifiiiit Tiiania and ht-r trrin. 
 
 Obe. Well, go thy way : tliou shall not from this 
 
 grove. 
 
 Till I torment thee for this injurv. 
 My pentle Puck, come hither : Thou remember'st 
 Since once I sat upon a promontory, 
 And heard a mermaid, on a dolphin's back, 
 Uttering such dulcet and harmonious breath, 
 That the rude sea grew civil at her song ; 
 And certain stars shot madly from their spheres, 
 To hear the sea-maid's music. 
 
 Puck. I remember. 
 
 Obe. That very time I saw (but thoucould'st not,) 
 Flying between the cold moon and the earth, 
 Cupid all arm'd : a certain aim he took 
 At a fair vestal, throned by the west ; 
 And loos'd his love-^hafl smnrMy from his bow, 
 As it should pierce a hundred thousand hearts : 
 But I might see young Cupid's fie-y shaft 
 Queneh'd in the chaste beams of the wat'ry moon ; 
 And the imperial vot'ress passed on, 
 
 M) A pame played by boys. 
 
 (2) Autumn producing flowers unseasonably. 
 
 In maiden meditation, fancy-free.* 
 
 Yet mark'd I where the bolt of Cupid fell: 
 
 It fell upon a little western (lower, 
 
 Before, milk-white ; now purple with lore'i 
 
 wound, 
 
 And mnidens cull it, love-in-idleness. 
 Fetch me that flower ; the herb I show'd thee once ; 
 The juice of it on sleeping eyelids laid, 
 Will iiiaite or man or woman madly dole 
 Upon ihe next live creature that it sees. 
 Fetch me this herb : and be thou here again, 
 Ere the leviathan can s'.vim a league. 
 
 Puck. I'll put a girdle round about the earth 
 In forty minutes. [Exit Puck. 
 
 Obe. Having once this juice, 
 
 I'll watch Titania when she is asleep, 
 And drop the liquor of it in her eves : 
 The next thing then she waking looks upon 
 (Be it on lion, bear, or wolf, or bull, 
 On meddling monkey, or on busy ape,) 
 She shall pursue it with the soul of love. 
 And ere I take this charm off from her sight 
 (As I can take it, with another herb,) 
 I'll make her render up her page to me. 
 But who comes here 1 I am invisible ; 
 And I will over-hear their conference. 
 
 Enter Demetrius, Helena following him. 
 
 Dem. I love thee not, therefore pursue me not. 
 Where is Lvsandcr, and fair Hermia? 
 The one I'll slay, the other slayeth me. 
 Thou told'st me, they were stol'n into this wood. 
 And here am I, and wood 6 vithin this wood, 
 Because I cannot meet with Hermia. 
 Hence, sret thee gone, and follow me no more. 
 
 ILL You draw me, you hard-hearted adamant ; 
 But yet you draw not iron, for my heart 
 Is true as steel : leave you your power to draw, 
 And I shall have no power" to follow you. 
 
 Dem. Do I entice you ? Do I speak you fair? 
 Or rather, do I not in plainest truth 
 Tell von I do not, nor I cannot love you ? 
 
 He). And even for that do I love you the more. 
 I am your spaniel ; and. Demetrius, 
 The more you beat me, I will fawn on you : 
 Use me but as your spaniel, spurn me, strike me, 
 Neglect me, lose me ; only jr.ve me leave, 
 Unworthy as I am, to follow you. 
 Whrxt worser place can I beg in your lore 
 (And yet a place of high respect with me,) 
 Than to be used ns you use your dop ? 
 
 Dem. Tempt not too much the hatred of my spirit; 
 For I am sick, when I do look on thee. 
 
 Hel. And I am sick when I look not on you. 
 
 Dem. You do impeach 7 your modesty too much, 
 To leave the city, and commit yourself 
 Into the hands of one that loves you not; 
 To trust Ihc opportunity of night, 
 And the ill counsel of a desert place, 
 With the rich worth of your virginity. 
 
 Hel. Your virtue is mv privilege for that. 
 Tt is not night, when I do fee your face, 
 Therefore I think I am not in ihe night : 
 N r doth this wood lack worlds of company ; 
 For you, in my respect, are all (lie world : 
 T'-.c.'n how can it he said, I am alone, 
 When all the world is here to look on me ? 
 
 Dim. I'll run from thee, and h : de me in the brakes, 
 And leave thee to the mercy of wild beasts. 
 
 Hel. The wildest h-ith not such a heart as you. 
 Run when you will, the story shall be chang'd ; 
 
 (3) Produce. (4) Page. (5) Exempt from IOT. 
 (6) Mad, raving. (7) Bring in question
 
 Scene III. 
 
 MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S DREAM. 
 
 145 
 
 Apollo flies, and Daphne holds the chase ; 
 The dove pursues the griffin ; the mild hind 
 Makes speed to catch the tiger: bootless speed ! 
 When cowardice pursues, and valour Hies. 
 
 Dem. I will not stay thy questions ; let me go : 
 Or, if thou follow me, do not believe 
 But I shall do thee mischief in the wood. 
 
 Hel. Ay, in the temple, in the town, the field, 
 You do me mischief. Fie, Demetrius ! 
 Your wrongs do set a scandal on my sex : 
 We cannot light for love, as men may do ; 
 We should be woo'd, and were not made to woo. 
 I'll follow thee, and make a heaven of hell, 
 To die upon 1 the hand I love so well. 
 
 [Extunl Dem. and Hel. 
 
 Obe. Fare thee well, nymph: ere he do leave 
 
 this grove, 
 Thau shalt fly him, and he shall seek thy love. 
 
 Re-enter Puck. 
 
 Hast thou the flower there ? Welcome, wanderer. 
 
 Puck. Ay, there it is. 
 
 Obe. I pray thee, give it me, 
 
 I know a bank whereon the wild thym-j blows, 
 Where ox-lips" and the nodding violet grows ; 
 Quite over-canopied with lush 3 woodbine, 
 With sweet musk-roses, and with eglantine : 
 There sleep.* Titania, some time of the night, 
 Lull'd in these flowers with dances and delight ; 
 And there the snake throws hr enamell'd skin 
 Weed wide enough to wrap a fairy in : 
 And with tha juice of this I'll streak her eyes, 
 And make her full of hateful fantasies. 
 Take thou some of it, and seek through this grove : 
 A sweet Athenian lady is in love 
 With a disdainful youth : anoint his eyes ; 
 do it, when the next thing 1 he espies 
 be the lady : thou shalt know the man 
 L the Athenian garments he hath on. 
 nffect it with some care ; that he may prove 
 More fond on her, than she upon her love : 
 And look thou meet me ere the first cock crow. 
 
 Puck. Fear not, my lord, your servant shall do 
 so. [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE III. Another part of the wood. Enter 
 Titania, with her train. 
 
 Tita. Come, now a roundel, 4 and a fairy song ; 
 
 Then, for the third part of a minute, hence ; 
 
 Some, to kill cankers in the musk-rose buds ; 
 
 Some, war with rear-mice 4 for their leathern wings, 
 
 To make my small e^vcs coats : and some, keep 
 back * t 
 
 The clamorous owl, that nightly hoots, and won- 
 ders 
 
 At our quaint spirits : 6 sing me now asleep ; 
 
 Then to your offices, and let me rest. 
 
 SONG. 
 
 1 Fai. You spotted snakes, loith double tongue, 
 
 Thorny hedge-hogs, be not seen ; 
 Newts,'' and blind-worms, 3 do no wrong ; 
 Come not near our fairy queen : 
 
 Chorus. Philomel, with melody, 
 
 Sing in our sioeel lullaby ; 
 Lulla, Itdla, lullaby ; lulla, lulla, lullaby : 
 Never harm, nor spell, nor charm, 
 Come our lovely lady nigh ; 
 So, good night, with ltdlaby. 
 
 By. (2) The greater cowslip. 
 A kind or dance. (j) Bats. 
 
 II. 
 
 2 Fai. Weaving spiders, come not here ; 
 
 Hence, yuu long-legged spinners t hence : 
 Beetles black, approach not near ; 
 Worm, nor snail, do no offence. 
 Chorus. Philomel, with melody, Sfc. 
 1 Fai. Hence, away ; now all is well : 
 One, aloof, stand sentinel. 
 
 [Exeunt Fairies. Titania sleeps. 
 
 Enter Oberon. 
 Obe. What thou seest, when thou dost wake. 
 
 f Squeezes the flower on Titania's eyt-lid$. 
 Do it for thy true love take : 
 Love, and languish for his sake: 
 Be it ounce, 3 or cat, or bear, 
 Pard, or boar with bristled hair, 
 In thy eye that shall appear 
 When thou wak'st, it is thy dear ; 
 Wake, when some vile thing is near. [Exit. 
 
 ^Entcr Lysander and Ilermia. 
 
 Lys. Fair love, you faint with wandering in lh 
 
 wood ; 
 
 And to speak truth, I have forgot our way ; 
 We'll rest us, Hermia, if you think it good. 
 And tarry for the comfort of the day. 
 Her. Be it so, Lysander : find you out a bed, 
 For I upon this bank will rest mv head. 
 
 Lys. One turf shall serve as pillow for us both; 
 One heart, one bed, two bosoms, and one troth. 
 
 Her. Nay, srood Lysander ; for my sake, my dear, 
 Lie further off yet, do not lie so near. 
 
 Lys. O, take the sense, sweet, of my innocence ; 
 Love takes the meaning, in love's conference. 
 ' mean, that my heart unto yours is knit, 
 jo that but one heart we can make' of it: 
 Two bosoms interchained with an oath ; 
 So then, two bosoms, and a single troth. 
 Then, by your side no bed-room me deny ; 
 "or, lying so, Hermia, I do not lie. 
 
 Her. Lysander riddles very prettily : 
 Vow much beshrew my manners and my pride, 
 f Ilermia meant to sav, Lysander lied. 
 Jut, gentle friend, for love and courtesy 
 T ,ie further off; in human modesty 
 juch separation, as, may well be said, 
 Secomes a virtuous bachelor and a maid : 
 So far be distant ; and good night, sweet friend : 
 Thy love ne'er alter, tilfthy sweet life end ! 
 
 Lys. Amen, amen, to that fair prayer, say I ; 
 Vnd then end life, when I end loyalty ! 
 Here is my bed : sleep give thee all his rest ! 
 Her. With half that wish the wisher's eyes be 
 press'd! [They sleep. 
 
 Enter Puck. 
 
 Puck. Through the forest ha^e I gone, 
 But Athenian found I none, 
 On whose eyes I might approve 
 This flower's force in stirring love. 
 Night and silence ! who is here ? 
 Weeds of Athens he doth wear : 
 This is he, my master said, 
 Despised the Athenian maid ; 
 And here the maiden, sleeping sound, 
 On the dank and dirty ground. 
 Pretty soul ! she durst not lie 
 Near this lack-love, kill-courtesy. 
 Churl, upon thy eyes I throw 
 All the power this charm doth owe: 1 * 
 
 Slow-worms. 
 T
 
 14C 
 
 MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S DREAM. 
 
 Act 111. 
 
 When thou wak'st, let lore forbid 
 Sleep his seat on thy eyelid. 
 So awake, when I am gone ; 
 For I must now to Oberon. 
 
 [Exit. 
 
 Enter Demetrius and Helena, running* 
 
 Htl. Stay, though thou kill me, sweet Demetrius. 
 
 Dem. I charge thee, hence, and do not haunt 
 me thus. 
 
 Htl. O, wilt thou darkling 1 leave me ? do not so. 
 
 Dem. Stay, on thy peril ; I alone will go. 
 
 [Exit Demetrius. 
 
 Htl. O, I am out of breath in this fond chase ! 
 The more my prayer, the lesser is my grace. 
 Happy is Hermia, wheresoe'er she lies ; 
 For she hath blessed and attractive eyes. 
 How came her eyes so bright ? Not with salt tears : 
 If so, my eyes are oftener wash'd than hers. 
 No, no, I am as ugly as a bear ; 
 For beasts that meet me, run away for fear : 
 Therefore, no marvel, though Demetrius 
 Do, as a_ monster, fly my presence thus. 
 What wicked and dissembling glass of mine 
 Made me compare with Hermia's sphery eyne.? 
 But who is here ? Lysander ! on the ground ! 
 Dead ? or asleep ? I see no blood, no wound : 
 Lysander, if you live, good sir, awake. 
 
 Lys. And run through fire I will, for thy sweet 
 sake. [Waking. 
 
 Transparent Helena ! Nature here shows art, 
 That through thy bosom makes me see thy heart. 
 Where is Demetrius ? O, how fit a word 
 Is that vile name, to perish on my sword ! 
 
 Hel. Do not sav so, Lysander ; say not so : 
 What though he love your Hermia? Lord, what 
 
 though? 
 Yet Hermia still loves you : then be content. 
 
 Lys. Content with Hermia ? No : I do repent 
 The tedious minutes I with her have spent. 
 Not Hermia, but Helena I love : 
 Who will not change a raven for a dove ? 
 The will of man is by his reason sway'd ; 
 And reason says you are the worthier maid. 
 Things growing are not ripe until their season : 
 So I, bemg_ young, till now ripe not to reason ; 
 And touching now the point of human skill, 
 Reason becomes the marshal to my will, 
 And leads me to your eyes ; where I o'erlook 
 Love's stories written in love's richest book. 
 
 Hel. Wherefore was I to this keen mockery born ? 
 When, at your hands, did I deserve this scorn ? 
 Is't not enough, is't not enough, young man, 
 That I did never, no, nor never can, 
 Deserve a sweet look from Demetrius' eye, 
 But you must flout my insufficiency ? 
 Good troth, you do me wrong, good sooth, you do, 
 In such disdainful manner me to woo. 
 But fare you well : perforce I must confess, 
 I thought you lord of more true gentleness. 
 O, that a lady, of one man refus'd, 
 Should, of another, therefore be abus'd ! [Exit. 
 
 Lys. She sees not Hermia : Hermia, sleep thou 
 
 there; 
 
 And never may'st thou come Lysander near ! 
 For, as a surfeit of the sweetest things 
 The deepest loathing to the stomach brings ; 
 Or, as the heresies, that men do leave, 
 Are hated most of those they did deceive ; 
 So thou, my surfeit, and my'heresy, 
 Of all be hated ; but the most of me ! 
 And all my powers, address your love and misfit. 
 To honour Helen, and to be her knight ! [Exit. 
 
 Her. [Starting.] Help me, Ljsander, help me : 
 
 do thy best ? 
 
 To pluck this craw ling serpent from my breast ! 
 Ah me, for pity ! what a dream was here ! 
 Lvsander, look, how I do quake with fear : 
 Methought a serpent eat my heart away, 
 And you sat smiling at his cruel prey : 
 Lysander ! what, remov'd ? Lysander ! lord ! 
 What, out of hearing ? gone ? ho sound, no word? 
 Alack, where are you ? speak, an if you hear ; 
 Speak, of all loves ;* I swoon almost with fear. 
 No ? then I well perceive you are not nigh : 
 Either death, or you, I'll find immediately. [Exit. 
 
 ACT III. 
 
 SCENE I. The same. The queen af fairies 
 lying asleep. Enter Quince, Snug, Bottom, 
 Flute, Snout, and Starveling. 
 
 Sot. Are we all met ? 
 
 Qui/j. Pat, pat ; and here's a marvellous con- 
 venient place for our rehearsal : this green plot shall 
 be our stage, this hawthorn brake our tvring-house ; 
 and we will do it in action, as we will do it before 
 the duke. 
 
 Hot. Peter Quince, 
 
 Qwin. What say'st thou, bully Bottom ? 
 
 Bot . There are things in this comedy of Pyramus 
 and Thisby, that will never please. First, Pyramus 
 must draw a sword to kill himself; which the ladies 
 cannot abide. How answer you that? 
 
 Snout. By'rlakin, 3 a parlous* fear. 
 
 Star. I believe, we must leave the killing out, 
 when all is done. 
 
 Bot. Not a whit ; I have a device to make all 
 well. Write me a prologue : and let the prologue 
 seem to say, we will do no harm with our swords ; 
 and that Pyramus is not killed indeed : and, for the 
 more better assurance, tell them, that I, Pyramus, 
 am not Pyramus, but Bottom the weaver : this will 
 put them out of fear. 
 
 Qut'n. Well, we will have such a prologue ; and 
 it shall be written in eight and six. 
 
 Bot. No, make it two more ; let it be written in 
 eight and eight. 
 
 Snout. Will not the ladies be afeard of the lion ? 
 
 Star. I fear it, I promise you. 
 
 Bot. Masters, you ought to consider with your- 
 selves : to bring in, God shield us ! a lion among 
 ladies, is a most dreadful thing ; for there is not a 
 more fearful 5 wild-fowl than your lion, living ; and 
 we ought to look to it. 
 
 Snout. Therefore, another prologue must tell he 
 is not a lion. 
 
 Bot. Nay, you must name his name, and half his 
 face must be seen through the lion's neck ; and he 
 himself must speak through, saying thus, or to the 
 same defect, Ladies, or fair ladies, I would wish 
 you, or, I would request you, or, I would entreat 
 vou, not to fear, not to tremble: my life for yours. 
 If you think I come hither as a_ lion, it were pity of 
 my life : no, I am no such thing ; I am a man as 
 other men are : and there, indeed, let him name his 
 name ; and tell them plainly, he is Snug the joiner. 
 
 Qttin. Well, it shall be so. But there is two 
 hard things ; that is, to bring the moon-light into a 
 chamber: for you know, Pyramus and Thisby 
 meet by moon-light. 
 
 Snug. Doth the moon shine, that night we play 
 our play ? 
 
 (1) In the dark. (2) By all that is dear. (3) By our ladykin, (4) Dangerow, (5) Terrible,
 
 Scent 1. 
 
 MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S DREAM. 
 
 147 
 
 Bot. A calendar, a calendar ! look in the alma- 
 nac ; find out moon-shine, find out moon-shine. 
 
 Quin. Yes, it doth shine that night. 
 
 Bot. Why, then you may leave a casement of 
 the great chamber window, where we play, open ; 
 and the moon may shine in at the casement. 
 
 Quin. Ay ; or else one must come in with a bush -, ,,-- 
 
 of thorns arid a lanthorn, and say, he comes to dis- of your own ; Do you ? 
 figure, or to present, the perso'n of moon-shine. Re-enter Quince 
 
 Then there is another thing: we must have a wall 
 in the great chamber ; for Pyramus and Thisbv, 
 
 Bot. Why do they run away ? this is a knarery 
 of them, to make me afeard.* 
 
 Re-enter Snout. 
 
 Snout. O Bottom, them art changed! what do I 
 see on thee ? 
 Bot. What do you see ? you sec an ass's head 
 
 says the story, did talk through the chinks of a wall. 
 
 Snug. You never can bring in a wall. What 
 fay you. Bottom ? 
 
 But. Some man or other must present wall: and 
 let him have some plaster, or some loam, or some 
 rough-cast about him, to signify wall ; or let him 
 hold his fingers thus, and through that cranny shall 
 Pyramus and Thisby whisper. 
 
 Quirt. If that may be, then all is well : Come, 
 sit down, every mother's son, and rehearse your 
 parts. Pyramus, you begin : when you have spoken 
 your speech, enter into that brake, 1 and so every 
 one according to his cue. 
 
 Enter Puck behind. 
 
 Puck. What hempen home-spuns have we swag- 
 gering here, 
 
 So near the cradle of the fairy queen ? 
 What, a play toward ? I'll be an auditor ; 
 An actor too, perhaps, if I see cause. 
 
 Quin. Speak, Pyramus: Thisby, stand forth. 
 
 Pyr. Thisby, the flowers of odious savours 
 sweet, 
 
 Quin. Odours, odours. 
 
 Pyr. Odours savours sweet : 
 
 So doth thy breath, my dearest Thisby dear. 
 But, hark, a voice .' stay thou but here a while. 
 
 *1nd by ami by I trfUfc thee appear. [Exit. 
 
 Puck. A stranger Pyramus th:m e'er play'd here ! 
 [Jsid'e. Exit. 
 
 7"Aw. Must I speak now ? 
 
 Quin. Ay, marry, must you : for vou must un- 
 derstand, he goes but to see a noise {hat he heard, 
 
 translated. 
 
 Qin'n. Bless thee, Bottom ! bless thee ! thou art 
 
 [Exit. 
 
 Bot. I see their knavery : this is to make an as* 
 of me ; to fright me, if they could. But I will not 
 stir from this place, do what they can : I will walk 
 up and down here, and I will sing, that they shall 
 iiear I am not afraid. [Sing?. 
 
 The ousel-cock, so black of hue, 
 
 With orange-tawny bill, 
 The throstle with his note so true, 
 The wren with little quill ; 
 
 Tita. What angel wakes me from my flowery bed ? 
 
 [ Waking. 
 BoL The finch, the sparrow, and the lark, 
 
 The plain-song cuckoo 11 gray, 
 Whose note full many a man doth mark, 
 Jlnd dares not answer, nay ; 
 
 for, indeed, who would set his wit to so foolish a 
 bird? who would give a bird the lie, though he 
 cry, cuckoo, never so ? 
 
 Tita. I pray thee, gentle mortal, sing again : 
 Mine ear is much enamour'd of thy note, 
 So is mine eye enthralled to thy shape ; 
 And thy fair virtue's force perforce doth move me, 
 On the first view, to say, to swear, I love thee. 
 
 Bot. Methinks, mistress, you should have little 
 reason for that : and yet, to say the truth, reason 
 and love keep little company together now-a-days : 
 the more the pity, that some honest neighbours will 
 not make them friends. Nay, I can gleek," upon 
 
 Tita. Thou art as wise as thou art beautiful. 
 
 and is to'come again. ?'\ N ? t .u?' neit ^r : butif I had wit enough to 
 
 This. Most radiant Pyramus, most lily-white o/jf l out of thls wood > I have en "Sh to serve mine 
 hue. 
 
 Of colour like the red-rose on triumphant brier, 
 Most briskly juvenal,* and eke most lovely Jew, 
 
 .is true as truest horse, that yet if mild never tire, 
 ril meet thee, Pyramus, at .Y7nm/' tomb. 
 
 lown turn. 
 
 Tita. Out of this wood do not desire to go ; 
 Thou shalt remain here, whether thou wilt or no. 
 I am a spirit, of no common rate ; 
 The summer still doth tend upon mv state, 
 
 Quin. Ninus' tomb, man: whv you must not And I do love thee : theretore, go with me ; 
 speak that yet ; that vou answer to Pyramus : vou * u /* the ,e . fa ' es u to , att ? nd on thee ; 
 speak all your part at once, cues' arid all.-Pyra- i Arld ^ *? fe * ch thee jewels from the deep : 
 mus enter ; vour cue is past ; it is, nerer tire. Am . 1 & 1 whae thou on pressed flowers dost sleep : 
 
 And I will purse thy mortal grossness so, 
 
 Re-enter Puck, and Bottom with an ass's head. 
 
 TAw. O, .& true as truest horse, that yet would 
 never tire. 
 
 Pyr. If I were fair, Thisby, I were only thine : 
 
 Qtcin. O monstrous ! O strange! we are haunted. 
 Pray, masters ! fly, masters ! hehp ! [Exe. Clowns. ! 
 
 Puck. I'll follow you, I'll lead you about a round, 
 Through bog, through bush, through brake, through' 
 
 brier ; 
 Sometime a horse I'll be, sometime a hound, 
 
 A hocr, a beardless bear, sometime a lire ; 
 
 That thou shalt like an airy spirit go. 
 Peas-blossom! Cobweb! Moth! and Mustard-seed! 
 
 Enter four Fairies. 
 
 1 Fai. Ready. 
 
 2 Fai. And I. 
 
 3 Fai. And I. 
 
 4 Fai. Where shall we go 7 
 Tita. Be kind and courteous to this gentleman ; 
 
 jHop in his walks, and sambol in his eyes ; 
 JFeed him with apricocks and dewberrfes,' 
 
 And neigh, and bark, and grunt, and roar, and burn, i With purple grapes, green fins, and mulberries ; 
 Like horse, hound, hog, bear, fire, at every turn. 'The honey bags steal from the humble-bees. 
 
 [Exit. I And, for night tapers, crop their waxen thighs, 
 
 And light them at the fiery glow-worm's eyes, 
 
 fl) Thicket. (2) Young man. 
 
 (3) The last words of the preceding speech, 
 
 which serve as a hint to him who is to speak next. 
 
 ( 4) Afraid. (5) The cuckoo, with his uniform note t 
 (6) Joke. (7) Gooseberries,
 
 148 
 
 MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S DREAM. 
 
 Ad III. 
 
 To hare my love to bed, and to arise ; 
 And pluck the wings from painted butterflies, 
 To fan the moon-beams from his sleeping eyes : 
 Jf pd to him, elves, and do him courtesies. 
 
 1 Fai. Hail, mortal ! 
 
 2 Fai. Hail ! 
 9 Fai. Hail ! 
 4 Fai. Hail! 
 
 Hot. I cry your worship's mercy, heartily. I 
 beseech, your worship's name. 
 
 Cob. Cobweb. 
 
 Bot. I shall desire you of more acquaintance, 
 good master Cobweb : if I cut my n'nger, I shall 
 make bold with you. Your name, honest gentleman ? 
 
 Peas. Peas-blossom. 
 
 Bet. I pray you, commend me to mistress Squash, 
 your mother, and to master Peascod, your father. 
 Good master Peas-blossomj I shall desire of you 
 more acquaintance too. lour name, I beseech 
 you, sir ? 
 
 Jutes. Mustard-seed. 
 
 Bot. Good master Mustard-seed, I know your 
 patience well : that same cowardly, giant-like ox- 
 beef hath devoured many a gentleman of your 
 house : I promise you, your kindred hath made my 
 eyes water ere now. I desire you more acquaint- 
 ance ; good master Mustard-seed. 
 
 Tita. Come, wait upon him ; lead him to my 
 bower. 
 
 The moon, me thinks, looks with a watery eye ; 
 And when she weeps, weeps every little flower, 
 
 Lamenting some enforced chastity. 
 
 Tie up my love's tongue, bring him silently. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 SCEJfE ll.-^Jlnother part of the wood. Enter 
 Oberon. 
 
 Obe. I wonder if Titania be awak'd ; 
 Then, what it was that next came in her eye, 
 Which she must dote on in extremity. 
 
 Enter Puck. 
 
 Here comes my messenger. How now, mad spirit? 
 What night-rule 1 now about this haunted grove ? 
 
 Puck. My mistress with a monster is in love. 
 Near to her close and consecrated bower, 
 While she was in her dull and sleeping hour, 
 A crew of patches, 2 rude mechanicals, 
 That work for bread upon Athenian stalls, 
 Were met together to rehear^: a play, 
 Intended for great Theseus' nuptial day. 
 The shallowest thick-skin of that barren sort,* 
 Who Pyramus presented, in their sport 
 Forsook his scene, and enter'd in a brake : 
 When I did him at this advantage take, 
 An ass's nowl* I fixed on his head ; 
 Anon, his Thisbe must be answered, 
 And forth my mimic 1 comes : when they him spy, 
 As wild geese that thr creeping fowler eye, 
 Or russet-pated chouyhs, many in sort, 
 Rising and cawing at the gun's report 
 Sever themselves, and madly sweep the sky ; 
 So, at his sight, away his fellows fly : 
 And, at our stamp, here o'er and o'er one falls ; 
 He murder cries, and help from Athens calls. 
 Their sense, thus weak, lost with their fears, thus 
 
 strong, 
 
 Made senseless things begin to do them wrong: 
 For briers and thorns at their apparel snatch ; 
 Some, sleeves ; some, hats : from yielders all things 
 catch. 
 
 (1) Revelry. (2) Simple fellows. 
 
 (3) Stupid company. (4) Head. (5) Actor, 
 
 I led them on in this distracted fear, 
 And left sweet Pyramus translated there : 
 When in that moment (so it came to pass) 
 Titania wak'd, and straiphtway lov'd an ass. 
 
 Obe. This falls out better than I could devise. 
 But hast thou yet latch'd 6 the Athenian's eyes 
 With the love-juice, as I did bid thee do ? 
 
 Puck. I took him sleeping, that is finish' d too, 
 And the Athenian woman by his side ; 
 That, when he wak'd, of force she must be ey'd. 
 
 Enter Demetrius and Hermia. 
 
 Obe. Stand close ; this is the same Athenian. 
 
 Puck. This is the woman, but not this the man. 
 
 Dem. O why rebuke you him that loves you so ? 
 Lay breath so bitter on your bitter foe. 
 
 tier. Now I but chide, but I should use the* 
 
 worse ; 
 
 For thou, I fear, hast given me cause to curse. 
 If thou hast slain Lysander in his sleep, 
 Being- o'er shoes in blood, plunge in the deep, 
 And kill me too. 
 
 The sun was not so true unto the day, 
 As he to me : Would he have stpl'n away 
 From sleeping Hermia ? I'll believe as soon, 
 This whole earth may be bor'd ; and that the moon 
 May through the centre creep, and so displease 
 Her brother's noon-tide with the Antipodes. 
 It cannot be, but thou hast murder'd him ; 
 So should a murderer look ; so dead, so grim. 
 
 Dem. So should the murder'd look ; and so 
 
 should I, 
 
 Pierc'd through the heart with vour stern cruelty : 
 Yet you, the murd_erer, look as bright, as clear, 
 As yonder Venus in her glimmering sphere. 
 
 Her. What's this to my Lysander ? where is he ? 
 Ah, good Demetrius, wilt thou give him me ? 
 
 Dem. I had rather give liis carcase to my hounds. 
 
 Her. Out, dog ! out, cur ! thou driv'st me past 
 
 the. bounds 
 
 Of maiden's patience. Hast thou slain him then * 
 Henceforth be never number'd among men ! 
 
 ! once tell true, tell true, even for my sake ; 
 Durst thou have look'd upon him, being aw:ike, 
 And hast thou kill'd him sleeping 'I O bi ave touch ;* 
 Could not a worm, an adder, do so much ? 
 
 An adder did it : for with a doubler tongue 
 Than thine, thou eerpent, never adder stung. 
 Dem. You spend your passion on a mispru'd* 
 mood : 
 
 1 am not guilty of Lysander's blood ; 
 Nor is he dead, for aught that I can tell. 
 
 Her. I pray thee, tell me then ihut ho is well. 
 Dem. And if I could, what should I get there- 
 fore? 
 
 Her. A privilege, never to see me more. 
 And from thy hated presence part I so : 
 Sec me no more, whether he be dead or no. [Exit. 
 Dem. There is no following her in this fierce 
 
 vein : 
 
 Here, therefore, for a while I will remain. 
 So sorrow's heaviness doth heavier grow 
 For debt that bankrupt sleep doth sorrow owe ; 
 Which now, in some slight measure it will pay, 
 If for his tender here I make some stay. 
 
 [Lies down. 
 Obe. What hast thou done ? thou hast mistaken 
 
 quite, 
 
 And laid the love-juice on some true-love's sight : 
 Ofthymisprision must perforce ensue 
 Some true-love turn'd, and not a false turn'd true. 
 
 (6) Infected. (7) Exploit. (8) Mistaken,
 
 Scent IT. 
 
 MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S DREAM. 
 
 149 
 
 Puck. Then fate o'er-rules ; that one man hold- 
 ing troth, 
 A million fail, confounding oath on oath. 
 
 Obe. About the wood go swifter than the wind, 
 And Helena of Athens look thou find : 
 All fancv-sick 1 she is, and pale of cheer 2 
 With sighs of love, that cost the fresh blood dear : 
 Bv spine illusion see thou bring her here ; 
 I'll charm his eyes, aarainst she do appear. 
 
 Puck: I go, I go ; look, how I go ; 
 Swifter than arrow from the Tartar's bow. [Exit. 
 
 Obe. Flower of this purple dye, 
 Hit with Cupid's archery, 
 Sink in apple of his eye ! 
 When his love he dotn espy, 
 Let her shine as gloriously 
 As the Venus of the sky. 
 When thou wak'st, if she be by, 
 Beg of her for remedy. 
 
 Re-enter Puck. 
 
 Puck. Captain of our fairy band, 
 Helena is here at hand ; 
 And the youth, mistook by me, 
 Pleading for a lover's fee ; 
 Shall we their fond pageant see ? 
 Lord, what fools these mortals be ! 
 
 Obe. Stand aside : the noise they make, 
 Will cause Demetrius to awake. 
 
 Puck. Then will two at once, woo one j 
 That mast needs be sport alone ; 
 And those things do best please me, 
 That befal preposterously. 
 
 Enter Lysander and Helena. 
 Lys. Why should you think, that I should woo 
 
 in scorn ? 
 
 Scorn and derision never come in tears : 
 Look, when I vow, I weep ; and vows so born, 
 
 In their nativity all truth appears. 
 How can tnese things in me seem scorn to you, 
 Bearing the badge of faith, to prove them true ? 
 Hel. You do advance your cunning more and 
 
 more. 
 
 When truth kills truth, devilish-holy fray ! 
 These vows are Hermia's ; Will you give her o'er ? 
 Weigh oath with oath, and you will nothing weigh: 
 Your vows, to her and rae, put in two scales, 
 Will even weigh ; and both as light as tales. 
 Lys. I had no judgment, when to her I swore. 
 ffel. Nor none, in my mind, now you give her 
 
 o'er. 
 Lys. Demetrius loves her, and he loves not you. 
 
 "When, I am sure, you hate me with your heart*. 
 
 You both are rivals, and love Henru'a ; 
 
 And now both rivals, to mock Helena : 
 
 A trim exploit, a manly enterprise, 
 
 To conjure tears up in a poor maid's eyes, 
 
 With your derision ! none, of noble sort,* 
 
 Would so offend a virgin : and extort 
 
 A poor soul's patience, all to make you sport. 
 
 Lys. You are unkind, Demetrius ; be not so ; 
 For you love Hermia ; this, you know, I know : 
 And here ? with all good will, with all my heart, 
 In Hernua's love I yield you up my part ; 
 And yours of Helena to me bequeath, 
 Whom I do love, and will do to my death. 
 
 Hel. Never did mockers waste more idle breath. 
 
 Dem. Lysander, keep thy Hermia ; I will none : 
 If e'er I lov'd her, all that love is gone. 
 My heart with her, but as gueslwise, sojourn'd ; 
 And now to Helena is it home return'd, 
 There to remain. 
 
 Lys. Helen, it is not so. 
 
 Dem. Disparage not the faith thou dost not know, 
 Lest, to thy peril, thou aby it dear.* 
 Look, where thy love comes ; yonder is thy dear. 
 
 Enter Hermia. 
 
 Her. Dark night, that from the eye his function 
 
 takes, 
 
 The ear more nuick of apprehension makes ; 
 Wherein it doth impair the seeing sense, 
 It pays the hearing double recompense : 
 Thou art not by mine eye, Lysander, found ; 
 Mine ear, I thank it ? brought me to thy sound. 
 But why unkindly didst thou leave me so ? 
 
 Lys. Why should he stay, whom love doth press 
 to go? 
 
 Her. What lore could press Lysander from my 
 i side ? 
 
 Lys. Ly?auder's love, that would not let him 
 
 'bide, 
 
 Fair Helena ; who more engilds the night 
 Than all yon fiery oes' J and eyes of light. 
 Why seek'st thou me ? could not this make thee 
 
 know, 
 The hate I bear tare made me leave thee so ? 
 
 Her. You spea.k uot as you think ; it cannot be. 
 
 Hel. Lo, she is one of this confederacy ! 
 Now I perceive they have conjoin'd, all three, 
 To fashion this false sport in spite of me. 
 Injurious Hermi:-i ! most ungrateful maid ! 
 Have you conspir'cl, have you with these contriv'd 
 To bait me with this foul derision ? 
 Is ail the counsel that we two have sliar'd, 
 
 Dem. [ilwakintf.] O Helen, goddess, nymph,) The sisters' vows, the hours that we have spent, 
 perfect, divine ! I \Vhen we have chid the hasty-footed time 
 
 For parting us, p, and is all forgot? 
 All school-days' friendship, childhood innocence ? 
 We, Hermia, like two artificial' gods, 
 Have v;ith our neelds 8 created both one flower, 
 Both on one sampler, sitting on one cushion, 
 Boih warbling of one song, both in one key ; 
 As if our hands, our sides, voices, and minds, 
 Had been incorporate. So we grew together, 
 Like to a double cherry, seeming parted ; 
 But yet a union in partition, 
 Two lovely berries moulded on one stem : 
 So, with two seeming bodies, but one heart ; 
 
 To what, my love, shall I compare thine eyne ? 
 Crystal is m'uddv. O, how ripe in show 
 Thy lips, those kissing cherries, tempting grow ! 
 That pure congealed white, high Taurus' snow, 
 Fann'd with the eastern wind, turns to a crow, 
 When thou hold'st up thy hand : O let me kiss 
 This princess of pure white, this seal of bliss ! 
 Hel. spite ! hell ! I see you all are bent 
 To set against me for your merriment. 
 If you were civil, and knew courtesy, 
 You would not do me thus much injury. 
 Can you not hate me, as I know you do, 
 But you must join, in souls, 3 to "mock me too? 
 If you were men, as men you are in show, 
 You would not use a gentle lady so ; 
 To vow, and swear, and superp'raise my parts, 
 
 (1) Love-sick. (2) Countenance. 
 
 (3) Heartily. (4) Degree. (5) Pay dearly for it. 
 
 Two of the first, like coats in heraldry, 
 Duo but to one, and crown'd with one crest. 
 And will you rent our ancient love asunder, 
 To join with men in scorning your poor friend ? 
 It is not friendly, 'tis not maidenly 
 
 (6) Circles, (7) Ingenious. (8) Needles.
 
 150 
 
 MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S DREAM. 
 
 Act III 
 
 Our sex, as well as I, may chide you for it : 
 Though I alone do feel the injury. 
 
 Her. I am amaz'd at your passionate words : 
 I scorn you not ; it seems that you scorn me. 
 
 Hel. Have you not set Lysander, as in scorn, 
 To follow me, and praise my eyes and face ? 
 And made your other love, Demetrius, 
 (Who even but now did spurn me with his foot,) 
 To call me goddess, nymph, divine, and rare, 
 Precious, celestial ? Wherefore speaks he this 
 To her he hates ? and wherefore doth Lysander 
 Deny your love, so rich within his soul, 
 And tender me, forsooth, affection ; 
 But by your setting on, by your consent? 
 What though I be not so in grace as you, 
 So hung upon with love, so fortunate ; 
 But miserable most, to love unlov'd ? 
 This you should pity, rather than despise. 
 
 Her. I understand not what you mean by this. 
 
 Hel. Ay, do persever, counterfeit sad looks, 
 Make mows' upon me when I turn my back ; 
 Wink at each other j hold the sweet jest up ; 
 This sport, well carried, shall be chronicled. 
 If you have any pity, grace, or manners, 
 You would not make me such an argument. 
 But, fare ye well: 'tis partly mine own fault ; 
 Which death, or absence, soon shall remedy. 
 
 Lys. Stay, gentle Helena ; hear my excuse ; 
 My love, my life, my soul, fair Helena ! 
 
 Hel. O excellent ! 
 
 Her. 
 
 Dem. If she cannot entreat, I can compel. 
 Lys. Thou canst compel no more than she en- 
 treat ; 
 /Thy threats have no more strength, than her weak 
 
 prayers. 
 
 Helen, I love thee ; by my life, I do ; 
 I swear by that which I will lose for thee, 
 To prove him false, that says I love thee not. 
 Dem. I say, I love thee more than he can do. 
 Lys. If thou say so, withdraw, and prove it too. 
 
 'Why, then you left me, 0, the gods forbid ! 
 In earnest, shall I say ? 
 
 Lys. Ay, by my life ; 
 
 And never did desire to see ihee more. 
 Therefore, be out of hope, of question, doubt, 
 Be certain, nothing truer ; 'tis no jest, 
 That I do hate thee, and love Helena. 
 
 Her. O nie! you juggler! you canker-blossom!* 
 You thief of love ! what, have you come by night, 
 And stol'n my love's heart from him ? 
 
 Hel. Fine, i'faith! 
 
 Have you no modesty, no maiden shame, 
 No touch of bashfulness 7 What, will you tear 
 Impatient answers from my gentle tongue ? 
 Fie, lie ! you counterfeit, you puppet you ! 
 
 Her. Puppet! why so? Ay, that way goes the 
 
 game. 
 
 Now I perceive lhat she hath made compare 
 Between our statures, she hath urg'd her height ; 
 And with her personage, her tall personage, 
 Her height, forsooth, she hath prevail'd with him. 
 And arc you grown so high in his esteem, 
 Because I am so dwarfish, and so low ? 
 How low am I, thou painted maypole '/ speak ; 
 How low am I ? I am not yet so low, 
 But that my nails can reach unto thine eyes. 
 
 Hel. I pray you, though you mock me, gentlemen, 
 Let her not hurt me : I was never curst ; J 
 I have no srift at all in shrewishness ; 
 I am a right maid for my cowardice ; 
 
 Sweet, do not scorn her so. iLet her not strike iw> : You, perhaps, may think, 
 
 Because she's something lower than myself, 
 That I can match her. 
 
 Her. Lower ! hark, again. 
 
 Hd. Good Hermia, do not be so bitter with me. 
 I evermore did love you, Hermia, 
 Did ever keep your counsels, uevrr wrong'd you ; 
 Save, that in love unto Demetrius, 
 I told him of your stealth unto this wood : 
 He follow'd you ; for love, I follow'd him. 
 But he hath chid me hence ; and threaten'd me 
 
 Dem. Quick, come, 'To strike me, spurn rne, nay, to kill me too : 
 
 Her. Lysander, whereto tends all this ?| And now, so you will Jet me quiet go, 
 
 Lys. Away, you Ethiop ! 
 Dem. 
 
 No, no, sir : he will 
 
 Seem to break loose ; take on, as you would follow ; 
 But yet come not : You are a tame man, go ! 
 
 Lys. Hang off', thou cat, thou burr : vile thing, 
 
 let loose ; 
 Or I will shake thee from me, like a serpent. 
 
 Her. Why are you grown so rude? what change 
 
 is this, 
 Sweet love ? 
 
 Lys. Thy love ? out, tawny Tartar, out ! 
 
 Out, loathed medicine ! hated potion, hence! 
 
 Her. Do you not jest ? 
 
 Hel. Yes, 'sooth ; and so do yon. 
 
 Lys. Demetrius, I will keep my word with thee. 
 
 Dem. I would, I had your bond ; for, I perceive, 
 A weak bond holds vou ; I'll not trust your word. 
 
 Lys. What, should I hurt her, strike her, kill 
 
 To Athens will I bear my folly back, 
 And follow you no further : Let me go : 
 You see how simple and how fond* I am. 
 Her. Why, get you gone : Who is't that hinders 
 
 you? 
 
 Hel. A foolish heart, that I leave here behind. 
 Her. What, with Lysander ? 
 Hd. With Demetrius. 
 
 Lys. Be not afraid : she shall not harm thee, 
 
 Helena. 
 Dem. No, sir; she shall not, though you take 
 
 her part. 
 Hel. O, when she's angry, she is keen and 
 
 shrewd : 
 
 She was a vixen, when she went to school ; 
 And, thoueh she be but little, she is fierce. 
 
 Her. Little again ? uolhing but low and little ? - 
 Why will you suffer her to flout me thus ? 
 
 Get you gone, you dwarf; 
 
 her dead ? Let me come to her. 
 
 Although I hate her, I'll not harm her so. Lys. 
 
 Her. What, can you do me greater harm, than You minimus, of hind'ring knot-grass* "made ; 
 
 hate ? |You bead, you acorn. 
 
 Hate me! wherefore? me! what news, my love? i Dem. You are too officious, 
 
 Am not I Hermia ? Are not you Lyaander ? 'In her behalf that scorns your services. 
 
 I am as fair now, as I was erewhile. [Let her alone ; speak not of Helena ; 
 
 Since night, you lov'd me ; yet, since night you Take not her part : for if thou dost intend* 
 
 left me : Never so little show of love to her, 
 
 H) Wry faces. 
 
 12) A worm that preys on buds of flowers. 
 
 (S) Shrewish or mischievous. {4} Foolish. 
 
 (5) Anciently knot-srrass was beliered to pre- 
 vent the growth of children. 
 
 (6) Pretend.
 
 Setne II. 
 
 MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S DREAM. 
 
 151 
 
 Thou shalt aby it 
 
 Lys. Now she holds me not ; 
 
 Now follow, if thou dar'st, to try whose right, 
 Or thine or mine, is most in Helena. 
 
 Dem. Follow ? nay, I'll go with thee, cheek by 
 jole. [Exeunt Lys. and Deui. 
 
 Her. You, mistress, all this coil is "'long of you : 
 Nav, go not back. 
 
 Hel. I will not trust you, I ; 
 
 Nor longer stay in your curst company. 
 Your hands, than mine, are quicker for a fray : 
 Mv le"-? are longer though, to run away. [Exit. 
 
 tier. I am amaz'd, anil know not what to say. 
 [Exit, pursuing Helena. 
 
 Obe. Thii is thy negligence : still thou mistak'st, 
 Or else commit'st thy knaveries wilfully. 
 
 Pitch. Believe me, king of shadows, I mistook. 
 Did not you tell me, I should know the man 
 By the Athenian garments he had on ? 
 And so far blameless proves my enterprise, 
 That I have 'nointed an Athenian's eyes : 
 And so far :ini I triad it so did sort, 1 
 As this (heir januiin<T I esteem a sport. 
 
 Obe. Thou seest, these lovers seek a placeto fight: 
 Hie therefore, Robin, overcast the night ; 
 The starrv welkin cover thou anon 
 With drooping fo<r, as black as Acheron : 
 And lead these testy rivals so astray, 
 As one corns not within another's way. 
 Like to Lysandi.T sometime frame thy tongue, 
 Then stir 'Demetrius up with bitter wrong; 
 And sometime rail thou like Demetrius ; 
 And from each other look thou lead them thus, 
 Till o'er their brows death-coimterfeitin 3 sleep 
 With leaden leers and batty wings doth creep: 
 Then crush this herb into Lysandcr's eye ; 
 Whose liquor hath this virtuous property, 2 
 To take from thence a!l error, with his misjht, 
 And make his eye-In I Is roil with wonted sight. 
 When they next wake, all this derision 
 Shall seem a dream, and fruitless vision ; 
 And back to Athens shall the lovers wend, 3 
 With league, whose date till death shall never end. 
 Whiles I in this affair do thee employ, 
 I'll to my queen, and beg her Indian boy ; 
 And then I will her charmed eve release 
 From monster's view, and all things shall be peace. 
 
 Puck. My fair}' lord, this must be done with 
 
 haste ; 
 
 For night's swift dragons cut. the clouds full fast, 
 And yonder shines Aurora's harbinger ; 
 At whose approach, ghosts, wandering here and 
 
 there, 
 
 Troop home to church-yards : damned spirits all, 
 That in cross-ways and floods have burial, 
 Aheadv to their wormy heds are gone ; 
 For fea'r lest dav should look their shames upon, 
 They wilfully themselves exile from light, 
 And must for aye consort with black-brow'd night. 
 
 Obe. But we nrp spirits of another sort ; 
 I with the Mornino-'s Love" have olt made sport; 
 And, like a forester, the proves may tread, 
 Even to the eastern gate, all fiery red, 
 Opening on Neptune with fair blessed beams, 
 Turns into vellon- sold his salt-green streams. 
 But, notwithstanding, haste ; make no delay : 
 We may effect this business vet ere day. 
 
 [Exit Obcron. 
 
 Puck. Up and down, up and down ; 
 I will lead them un and down : 
 I am fear'd in field and town ; 
 Goblin, lead them up and down. 
 
 (1) Happen. (2) Medicinal efficacy. (3) Go. 
 
 Here comet one. 
 
 Enter Lysander. 
 Lys. Where art thou, proud Demetrius 7 speak 
 
 thou now. 
 Puck. Here, villain ; drawn and ready. Where 
 
 art thou 1 
 
 Lys. I will be with thee straight. 
 Puck. Follow me then 
 
 To plainer ground. 
 
 [Exit Lys. asfolloieing the voice. 
 
 Enter Demetrius. 
 
 Dem. Lysander ! speak again. 
 
 Thou runaway, thou coward, art thou fled f 
 Speak. In some bush ? W 7 here dost thou hide thy 
 
 head 1 
 Puck. -Thou coward, art thou bragging to the 
 
 stars, 
 
 Telling the bushes that thou look'st for wars, 
 And wilt not come 1 Come, recreant ; come, thou 
 
 child; 
 
 I'll whip thee with a rod : He is defil'd 
 That draws a sword on thee. 
 Dem. Yea ; art thou there 1 
 
 Puck. Follow my voice ; we'll try no manhood 
 here. [Exeunt. 
 
 Re-enter Lysander. 
 
 Lys. He goes before me. and still dares me on ; 
 When I come where he calls, then he is gone. 
 The villain is much lighter heel'd than I : 
 I follow'd fast, but faster he did fly ; 
 That fallen am I in dark uneven way, 
 And here will rest me. Come, thou gentle day ! 
 
 [Lies dcwn, 
 
 For if but once thou show me thy _gray light, 
 I'll find Demetrius, and revenge this spite. [Sleeps. 
 
 Re-enter Puck and Demetrius. 
 
 Puck. Ho, ho! ho, ho! Coward, why com'st 
 
 thou not ? 
 
 Dem. Abide me, if thou dar'st ; for well I wot, 
 Thou runn'st before me, shifting every place ; 
 And dar'st not stand, nor look me in the face. 
 Where art thou 1 
 
 Puck. Come hither ; I am here. 
 
 Dem. Nay, then thou mock'st me. Thou shalt 
 
 buy this dear, 
 
 If ever I thy face by day-light see : 
 Now, go thy way. Famtness constraineth me 
 To measure out my length on this cold bed. 
 By day's approach look to be visited. 
 
 [Lies down and sleeps. 
 Enter Helena. 
 He!. O weary night, O long and tedious night, 
 
 Abate thy hours : shine, comforts, from the east ; 
 That I may back to Athens, by day-light, 
 
 From these that my poor company detest : 
 And, sleep, that sometimes shuts up sorrow's eye, 
 Steal me a while from mine own company. [Sleeps. 
 
 Puck. Yet but three? Come one more; 
 Two of both kinds makes up four. 
 Here she comes, curst and sad : . 
 Cupid is a knavish lad. 
 Thus to make poor females mad. 
 
 Enter Hermia. 
 Her. Never so weary, never so in wo, 
 
 Bedabbled with the dew, and torn with briers ; 
 I can no further crawl, no further so ; 
 
 My legs can keep no pace with my desires. 
 
 (4) Cephalus, the paramour of Aurora.
 
 152 
 
 MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S DREAM. 
 
 Act IV. 
 
 Here will I rest me, till the break of day. 
 Heavens shield Lysander, if they mean a fray ! 
 
 [Lies down. 
 Puck. On the ground 
 Sleep sound: 
 I'll apply 
 To your eye, 
 Gentle lover, remedy. 
 
 [Squeezing: the 'juice on Lysander's eye. 
 When thou wak'st, 
 Thou tak'st 
 True delight 
 In the sight 
 
 Of thy former lady's eye : 
 
 And the country proverb known, 
 
 That every man should take his own, 
 
 In your waking shall be shown : 
 
 Jack shall have Jill ; 
 
 Nought shall go ill ; 
 
 The man shall have his mare again, and all shall 
 
 be well. [Ex. Puck. Dem. Hel. $<:. sleep. 
 
 ACT IV. 
 
 SCE.VE T.The same. 
 torn, Fairies attending ; 
 
 Enter Titania and Bot- 
 Oberon behind unseen. 
 
 Tita. Come, sit thec down upon this flowery bed 
 
 While I thy amiable cheeks do coy, 1 
 And stick musk-roses in thy sleek smooth head, 
 And kiss thy fair large ears, my gentle joy. 
 
 Hot. Where's Peas-blossom ? 
 
 Pea*. Ready. 
 
 Bot. Scratch my head, Peas-blossom. Where's 
 monsieur Cobweb ? 
 
 Coo. Ready. 
 
 Bot. Monsieur Cobweb ; good monsieur, get 
 your weapons in your hand, and kill me a red-hip- 
 ped humble-bee on the top of a thistle ; and, good 
 monsieur, bring me the honey-bag. Do not fret 
 yourself top much in the action, monsieur ; and 
 good monsieur, have a care the honey-bag break 
 not ; I would be loath to have you overflown with 
 a honey bag, signior. Where's monsieur Mustard- 
 seed ? 
 
 Must. Ready. 
 
 Bot. Give me your neif,* monsieur Mustcrd-seed. 
 Pray you, leave your courtesy, good monsieur. 
 
 Mist. What's your will ? 
 
 Bol. Nothing, good monsieur, but to help cava- 
 lero Cobweb to scratch. I must to the barber's, 
 monsieur; for, melhinks, I am marvellous hairy 
 about the face : and I am such n tender ass, if my 
 hair do but tickle me, I must scratch. 
 
 Fairies, be gone, and be all ways away. 
 So doth the woodbine, the honeysuckle, 
 Gently entwist, the female ivy so 
 Borings the barky fingers of the elm. 
 0, how I love thee ! how I dote on thee ! 
 
 [They sleep. 
 Oberon advances. Enter Puck. 
 
 Obe. Welcome, good Robin. See'st thou tliii 
 
 sweet sight? 
 
 Her dotage now fdo begin to pity. 
 For meeting her of late", behind the wood, 
 Seeking sweet savours for this hateful fool, 
 I did upbraid her, and fall out with her : 
 For she his hairy temples then had rounded 
 With coronet ot fresh and fragrant flowers ; 
 And that same dew which sometime on the buds 
 Was wont to swell, like round arid orient pearls, 
 Stood now within the pretty flowrets' eyes, 
 Like tears, that did their own disgrace "bewail. 
 When I had, at my pleasure, taunted her, 
 And she, in mild terms, begg'd my patience, 
 I then did ask of her her changeling child ; 
 Which straight she gave me, and her fairy sent 
 To bear him to my bower in fairy land. 
 And now I have the boy, I will undo 
 This hateful imperfection of her eyes. 
 And, gentle Puck, take this transformed scalp 
 From oft' the head of this Athenian swain ; 
 That he awaking when the other do, 
 May all to Athens back again repair ; 
 And think no more of this night's accidents, 
 But as the fierce vexation of a dream. 
 But first I will release the fairy queen. 
 Be, as thou wast wont to be ; 
 
 [ Touching her eyes with an herb. 
 See, as thou wast wont to see : 
 Dian's bud o'er Cupid's flower 
 Hath such force and blessed power. 
 Now, my Titania ; wake you, my sweet queen. 
 
 Tita. My Oberon ! What visions have I seen t 
 
 ethouffht, I was enamour'd of an ass. 
 
 Ob?.. There lies your love. 
 
 Tita. How came these things to pass ? 
 
 0, how mine eyes ilo loath his visage now f 
 
 O6e. Silence, awhile Robin, take off this head 
 Titania, music call ; and strike more dead 
 Than common sleep, of all these five the sense. 
 
 Tita. Music, ho ! music ; such as charmeth sleep. 
 
 Puck. Now, when thou wak'st, with thine own 
 fool's eyes peep. 
 
 Obe. Sound, music. [SiUl music.] Come, my 
 queen, take hands with me, 
 
 nd rock the ground whereon these sleepers be. 
 Now thou and I are new in amity ; 
 \nd will, to-morrow midnight, solemnly, 
 Dance in duke Theseus' house triumphantly. 
 
 i~,l 1,1 :<*.... 1 1 r ._. J * 
 
 Tita. What, wilt lhau hear sume music, my 
 sweet love? 
 
 Bot. I have a reasonable good ear in music: Iet|There shall the pairs of faithful lovers be 
 us have the tongs and the bones. Wedded, with Theseus, all in jollity. 
 
 Tita. Or, say. sweet love.what thou desir'st. to cat. Puck. Fairy king, attend and mark ; 
 
 Bot. Truly, a peck of provender: I could munch I do hear the morning lark, 
 your good dry oats. Methinks, I have a greatl ^^ f ' Then, mv queen, in silence sad, 
 desire to a bottle of hay : good hay, sweet hay, 
 hath no fellow. 
 
 Tita. I have a venturous fairy that shall seek 
 The squirrel's hoard, and fetch thee new nuts. 
 
 Bot. I had rather have a handful, or two, of 
 dried peas. But, I pray you, let none of your 
 people stir me ; I have an exposition of sleep come 
 upon me. 
 
 Tila. Sleep thou, and I will wind thec in my arms. 
 
 And bless it to all fair posterity : 
 
 Trip we after the night's shade: 
 We the globe can compass soon, 
 Swifter than the wand'ring moon. 
 
 Tita. Come, my lord : and in our flight, 
 Tell me how it came this niaht. 
 That I sleeping here was found, 
 With these mortals, on the ground. [Exeitni. 
 [Horns sound within. 
 
 Enter Theseus, Hippolyta, Egeus, and train. 
 (1 ) Stroke. 12) Fist. I The. Go, one of you, find out the forester ;
 
 Scent II. 
 
 MIDSUMMER.NIGHT'S DREAM. 
 
 153 
 
 For now our observation is performed : 
 And since we have the vayward 1 of the day, 
 My love shall hear the music of my hounds. 
 Uncouple in the western valley ; go : 
 Despatch, I say, and find the iorcster. 
 We will, fair queen, up to the mountain's top, 
 And mark the musical confusion 
 Of hounds and echo in conjunction. 
 
 Hip. I was with Hercules, and Cadmus, once, 
 When in a wood of Crete they ba-y'd tha bear 
 With hounds of Sparta : never did I hear 
 Such gallant chiding ; 2 for, besides the groves, 
 The slues, the fountains, every region near 
 Seem'd all one mutual cry : I never heard 
 So musical a discord, such s\veet thunder. 
 
 The. My hounds are bred out of the Spartan 
 
 kind, 
 
 So fiew'd, 3 so sanded ; and their heads are hung 
 With ears that sweep away the morning dew ; 
 Crook-knee'd, and dew-lap'd like Thessalian bulls ; 
 Slow in pursuit, bat match'd in mouth like bells, 
 Each under each. A cry more tuneable 
 Was never holla'd to, nor cheer'd with horn, 
 In Crete, in Sparta, nor in Thessaly : 
 Judge, when you hear. But, soft ; what nymphs 
 are these ? 
 
 Ege. My lord, this is my daughter here asleep : 
 And this, Lysander : this Demetrius is ; 
 This Helena, old Nedar's Helena : 
 I wonder of their being here together. 
 
 The. No doubt, thsv rose up early, to observe 
 The rite of May ; and, hearing our'intent, 
 Came here in grace of our solemnitv. 
 But, speak, Egeus ; is not this the day 
 That Hermia should give answer of her choice ? 
 
 Ege. It is, mv lord. 
 
 The. Go, bid the huntsmen wake them with 
 their horns. 
 
 Horns, and shout within. Demetrius, Lysander, 
 Hermia, and Helena, touke and start up. 
 
 The. Good-morrow, friends. St. Valentine is past; 
 Beu r in these wood-birds but to couple now ? 
 
 Lys. Pardon, mv lord. 
 
 [He and the rest kneel lo Theseus. 
 
 The. I pray you all, stand up. 
 
 I know, you are two rival enemies : 
 How comes this gentle concord in the world, 
 That hatred is so far from jealousy, 
 To sleep by hate, and fear no enmity ? 
 
 Lys. My lord, I shall replv amazedly, 
 Half 'sleep, half wakins: But as yet, 'I swear, 
 I cannot truly say how I came here : 
 But, as I think, (for truly would I speak, 
 And now I do bethink me, so it is ;) 
 I came with Hennia hither ; oar intent 
 Was, to be gone from Athens, where we might be 
 Without the peril of the Athenian law. 
 
 Ege. Enough, enough, my lord ; you have enough ; 
 I beg the law, the law, upon his'head. 
 They would have stol'n away, they would, Deme- 
 trius, 
 
 Thereby to have defeated you and me : 
 You, of your wife ; and me of my consent ; 
 Of my consent that she should be your wife. 
 
 Dem. My lord, fair Helen told me of their stealth, 
 Of this their purpose hither, to this wood ; 
 And I in fury hilher follow'd them ; 
 Fair Helena in fancy 1 following me. 
 But, my good lord, I wot not by what power 
 (But by some power it is,) my love to Hermia, 
 
 (1) Forepart. (2) Sound. 
 
 (3) The flews arc the large chaps of a hound. 
 
 Melted as doth the snow, seemJ to me now 
 As the remembrance of an idle gawd,* 
 Which in my childhood I did dote upon : 
 And all the faith, the virtue of my heart, 
 The object, and the pleasure of mine eye, 
 Is only Helena. To her, mv lord, 
 Was I betroth'd" ere I saw rfermia : 
 But, like in sickness, did I loath this food : 
 But, as in health, come to my natural taste, 
 Now do I wish it, love it, long for it, 
 And will for evermore be true to it. 
 
 The. Fair lovers, you are fortunately met : 
 Of this discourse we more will hear anon. 
 Egcus, I will overbear your will ; 
 For in the temple, by and by with us, 
 These couples shall eternally be knit. 
 And, for the morning now is something worn, 
 Our purpos'd hunting shall be set aside. 
 Away, with us, to Athens : Three and three, 
 We'll hold a feast in great solemnity. 
 Come, Hippolyta. 
 
 [Exeunt The. Hyp. Ege. and train. 
 
 Dem. These things seem small, and undistin- 
 
 guishable, 
 Like far-off mountains turned into clouds. 
 
 Her. Methinks, I see these things with parted eye, 
 When every thing seems double. 
 
 Hel. So melhinks : 
 
 And I have found Demetrius like a jewel, 
 Mine own, and not mine own. 
 
 Dem. It seems to me 
 
 That yet we sleep, we dream. Do not you think, 
 The duke was here, and bid us follow him ? 
 
 Hel. And Hippolyta. 
 
 Her. Yea : and my father. 
 
 Lys. And he did bid us follow to the temple. 
 
 Dem. Why then, we are awake : let's follow him ; 
 And, by the way, let us recount our dreams. [Exe. 
 
 jls they go out, Bottom awakes. 
 
 Bot. When my cue comes, call me, and I will 
 answer ; my next is, Most fair Piframus. Hey, 
 ho! Peter Quince! Flute, the bellows-mender! 
 Snout, the tinker ! Starveling 1 ! God's my life ! 
 stolen hence, and left me asleep ! I have had a most 
 rare vision. I have had a dream, past the wit of 
 man to say what dream it was : Man is but an ass, 
 if he go about to expound this dream. Methought 
 I was there is no man call tell what. Methought 
 I was, and mcthought I had, But man is but a 
 notched fool, if he wfll offer to say what methought 
 I had. The eye of man hath not heard, the ear of 
 -nan hath not seen ; man's hand is not able to taste, 
 his tongue to conceive, nor his heart to report, what 
 my dream was. I will sjel Peter Quince to write a 
 ballad of this dream : it shall be called Bottom's 
 Dream, because it hath no bo'tom : and I will sing 
 it in the latter end of a play, before the duke : 
 Peradventurc, to make it the more gracious, I shall 
 sing it at her death. [Exit. 
 
 SCENE //.Athens. A room in Quince's 
 House. Enter Quince, Flute, Snout, and 
 Starveling. 
 
 Quin. Have vou sent to Bottom's house ? is he 
 come home yet ? 
 
 Star. He cannot be heard of. Out of doubt, ha 
 is transported. 
 
 Flu. If he come not, then the play is marred; 
 It procs not forward, doth it ? 
 
 Qni. It is not possible : you havr. net a man in 
 
 (4) Lore. 
 
 U 
 
 (5) Toy,
 
 154 
 
 MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S DREAM. 
 
 Jletr. 
 
 all Athens, able to discharge Pvramus, but he. 
 
 Flu. No: he hath simply the best wit of any 
 handicraft man in Athens. 
 
 Qum. Yea, and the best person too : and he is 
 a yery paramour for a sweet voice. 
 
 flu. You must say, paragon: a paramour is, 
 God bless us, a thing of nought. 
 
 Enter Snug. 
 
 Snug. Masters, the duke is coming from the 
 temple, and there is two or three lords and ladies 
 more married : if our sport had gone forward, we 
 had all been made men. 
 
 Flu. sweet bully Bottom ! Thus hath he lost 
 sixpence a-day during his life ; he could not have 
 'scaped sixpence a-day ; an the duke had not eiven 
 him sixpence a-day for playintr Pyramus, I'll be 
 hanged ; he would have deserved it : sixpence a-day, 
 in Pyramus, or nothing. 
 
 Enter Bottom. 
 
 Dot. Where are these lads? where are these 
 hearts ? 
 
 Qutn. Bottom! O most courageous day! 
 most happy hour ! 
 
 Hot. Masters, I am to discourse wonders : but 
 ask me not what ; for, if I tell you, I am no true 
 Athenian. I will tell you every thing, right as it 
 fell out. 
 
 Qut. Let us hear, sweet Bottom. 
 
 Bot. Not a word of me. All that I will tell you. 
 i.", that the duke hath dined : Get your apparel to^ 
 gether ; good strings to your beards, new ribbons 
 to your pumps ; meet presently at the palace : 
 every man look o'er his part, for," the short and the 
 Ion;; is, our play is preferred. In any case, let 
 Thisby have clean linen; and let not him, that 
 plays the lion, pare his nails, for they shall hang out 
 for the lions claws. And, most dear actors, eat no 
 onions, nor garlic, for we are to utter sweet breath ; 
 and I do not doubt, but to hear them say, it is a 
 sweet comedy. No more words ; away ; go, 
 away. [Exeunt. 
 
 ACT V. 
 
 SCE.VE I. The same. ?>i apartment in the 
 
 Palace of Theseus. Enter Theseus, Hippolyta, 
 
 Philostrate, Lords, and Attendants. 
 
 Hip. 'Tis strange, my Theseus, that these lovers 
 speak of. 
 
 The. More strange than true. I never may believe 
 These antioue fables, nor these fairy toys. 
 Lovers, and madmen, have such seething brains, 
 Such shaping fantasies, that apprehend 
 More than cool reason ever comprehends. 
 The lunatic, the lover, and the poet, 
 Are of imagination all compact: 1 
 One sees more devils than vast hell can hold ; 
 That is, the madman : the lover, all as frantic, 
 Sees Helen's beauty in a brow of Egypt : 
 The poet's eye, in a fine frenzy rolling, 
 Doth glance from heaven to earth, from earth to 
 
 heaven ; 
 
 And, as imagination bodies forth 
 The forms of things unknown, the poet's pen 
 Turns them to shapes, and gives to airy nothing 
 A local habitation, and a name. 
 Such tricks hath strong imagination ; 
 
 M) Are made of mere imagination. (2) Stability. 
 (3) Pastime, (4) Short account. 
 
 That, if it would but apprehend some joy, 
 It comprehends some bringer of that joy ; 
 3r, in the night, imagining some fear, 
 How easy is a bush suppos'd a bear ! 
 
 Hip. But all the story of the night told over, 
 And all their minds transfigur'd so together, 
 More witnesseth than fancy's images, 
 And grows to something of great constancy ;* 
 EJut, howsoever, strange, and admirable. 
 
 Enter Lysander, Demetrius, Ilermia, and Helena. 
 The. Here come the lovers, full of joy and mirth. 
 Joy, gentle friends ! joy, ana fresh days of love, 
 \ccoiiipauy your hearts ! 
 
 Lys, More than to us 
 
 Wait on your royal walks, your board, your bed. 
 
 The. Come now ; what masks, what dances shall 
 
 we have, 
 
 To wear away this long age of three hours, 
 Between our after-supper, and bed-time ? 
 Where is our usual manager of mirth ? 
 What revels are in hand / is there no play, 
 To ease the anguish of a torturing hour ?" 
 Call Philostrate. 
 
 Philost. Here, mighty Theseus. 
 
 The. Say, what abridgment 3 have you for thi 
 
 evening ? 
 
 What mask ? what music ? How shall we beguile 
 'hf lazy time, if not with some delight ? 
 
 Philost. There is a brief,* how many sports are 
 
 ripe; 
 
 Make choice of which your highness will see first. 
 [Giving a paper. 
 
 The. [Reads.] The battle with the Ctnitaurs, to 
 be sun* 
 
 By an Athenian eunuch to the harp. 
 We'll none of that: that have I told my love, 
 In srlory of my kinsman Hercules. 
 
 The riot of the tipsy Bacchanals, 
 
 Tearing the Thraetannngtr in their rage. 
 That is an old device ; and it was play'd 
 When I from Thebes came last a conqueror. 
 
 The thrice three Maes mourning for the death 
 
 Of learning, late deceased in beggary. 
 That is some satire, keen, and critical, 
 Not sorting with a nuptial ceremony. 
 
 Jl teduius brief scene of young Pyramus, 
 
 Jlnd his love Thisbe : very tragical mirth. 
 Merry and tragical ? Tedious and brief ? 
 That is, hot ice, and wonderous strange snow. 
 Hotv shall we find the concord of this discord ? 
 
 Philost. A play there is, my lord, some ten words 
 
 long ; 
 
 Which is as brief as I have known a play : 
 By ten words, my lord, it is too lore ; 
 Which makes it tedious : for in all ibe play 
 There is not one word apt, one player fitted. 
 And tragical, my noble lord, it is ; " 
 For Pyramus therein doth kill himself. t 
 
 Which, when I saw rehears'd, I must confess, 
 Made mine eyes water ; but more merry tears 
 The passion of loud laughter never shed. 
 
 The. What are they, that do play it ? 
 
 Philost. Hard-handed men, that "work in Athens 
 
 here, 
 
 Which never labour'd in their minds till now; 
 And now have toil'd their unbreath'd 4 memories 
 With this same plav, against your nuptial. 
 
 The. And we will hear it. 
 
 Philost. No, my noble lord, 
 
 It is not for you : I have heard it over, 
 And it is nothing, nothing in the world ; 
 
 > (5) Unewrcised.
 
 Scene L 
 
 MIDSUMMER-NIGHTS DREAM. 
 
 155 
 
 Unless you can find sport in their intents, 
 Extremely stretch'd, and conn'd with cruel pain, 
 To do you service. 
 
 The'. I will hear that play ; 
 
 For never any thing can be amiss, 
 When simpleness and duty tender it. 
 Go, bring them in : and take your places, ladies. 
 [Exit Philostrate. 
 
 Hip. I love not to see wretchedness o'ercharg'd, 
 And dutv in his service perishing. 
 
 The. Why, gentle sweet, you shall see no such 
 thing. 
 
 Hip. He says, they can do nothing in this kind. 
 
 The. The kinder we, to give them thanks tor 
 
 nothing 1 . 
 
 Our sport shall be, to take what they mistake : 
 And what poor duty cannot do, 
 Noble respect takes it in might, not merit. 
 Where I have come, great clerks have purpos'd 
 To greet me with premeditated welcomes ; 
 "Where I have seen them shiver and look pale, 
 Make periods in the midst of sentences-, 
 Throttle their practis'd accent in their tears, 
 And, in conclusion, dumbly have broke oft", 
 Not paying me a welcome : Trust rne, sweet, 
 Out of this silence, yet, I pick'd a welcome ; 
 And in the modesty of fearful duty 
 I read as much, as from the rattling- tongue 
 Of saucy and audacious eloquence. 
 Love, therefore, and tongue-tied simplicity, 
 In least, speak most, to my capacity. 
 
 Enter Philostrate. 
 Philost. So please your grace, the prologue is 
 
 addrest. 1 
 The. Let him approach. [Flourish of trumpets. 
 
 Enter Prologue. 
 
 Prol. If we offend, it is with our good trill. 
 
 That you should think, we come not to offend, 
 But with good will. To show our simple *skill t 
 
 That is the true beginning of our tnd. 
 Consider then, we came but in despite. 
 
 We do not come as minding to content you, 
 Our true intent is. All for your delight, 
 
 We are not here. That you should here repent you, 
 The actors are at hand ; and, by their show, 
 You shall know all, that you are like to know. 
 
 The. This fellow doth not stand upon points. 
 
 Lys. He hath rid his prologue, like a rough colt, 
 he knows not the stop. A good moral, my lord : It 
 is not enough to speak, but to speak true. 
 
 Hip. Indeed he hath played on this prologue, 
 like a child on a recorder ; 2 a sound, but not in 
 government. 
 
 The. His speech was like a tangled chain ; no- 
 thing impaired, but all disordered. Who is next ? 
 
 Enter Pyramus and Thisbe, Wall, Moonshine, and 
 Lion, as in dumb show. 
 
 Prol. l Gentles, perchance, you wonder at this 
 
 show ; 
 
 ' But wonder on, till truth make all things plain. 
 'This man is Pyramus, if you w_ould know ; 
 
 1 This beauteous lady Thisby is, certain. 
 This man, with lime and rou<rh-cast, doth present 
 'Wall, that vile wall which did these lovers 
 
 sunder : 
 And through wall's chink, poor souls, they are 
 
 content 
 1 To whisper ; at the which let no man wonder. 
 
 (I) Ready. (2) A musical instrument. 
 
 1 This man, with lantern, doff, and bush of thorn, 
 
 ' Presenteth moonshine: for, if you will know, 
 ' By moonshine did these lovers think no scorn 
 
 '"To meet atNinus' tomb, there, there to woo. 
 ' This grisly beast, which by name lion night, 1 
 ' The trusty Thisby, coming first by night, 
 4 Did scare away, or rather did affright ; 
 ' And ; as she fled, her mantle she did fall ; 
 
 ' Which lion vile with bloody mouth did stain : 
 ' Anon coeies Pyramus, sweet youth, and tall, 
 
 ' And finds his trusty Thisby's mantle slain : 
 ' Whereat with blade, with bloody blameful blade, 
 
 " He bravely broach'd his boiling bloody breast ; 
 'And, Thisby tarrying in mulberry shade, 
 
 ' His dagger drew, and died. For all the rest, 
 ' Let Lion, Moonshine, Wall, and lovers twain, 
 'At large discourse, while here they do remain.' 
 [Exeunt Prol. Thisbe, Lion, and Moonshine. 
 
 The. 1 wonder, if the lion be to speak. 
 
 Dein. No wonder, my lord : one lion may, when 
 many asses do. 
 
 H all. ' In this same interlude, it doth befall, 
 ' That I, one Snout by name, present a wall : 
 And such a wall, as I would nave you think, 
 ' That had in it a cranny'd hole, or chink, 
 ' Through which the lovers, Pyrarnus and Thisby, 
 ' Did whisper often very secretly. 
 'This loam, this rough-cast, and this stone, doth 
 
 show 
 
 ' That I am that same wall ; the truth is so : 
 ' And this the cranny is, right and sinister, 
 ' Through which the fearful lovers are to whisper.* 
 
 The. Would YOU desire lime and hair to speak 
 better ? 
 
 Dem. It is the wittiest partition that ever I heard 
 discourse, my lord. 
 
 The. Pyra'mus draws near the wall ; silence I 
 
 Enter Pyramus. 
 Pyr. ' O grim-look'd night ! O night with hue so 
 
 ' O night, which ever art when day is not t 
 ' O night, O night, alack, alack, alack, 
 ' I fear my Thisby's promise is forgot ! 
 And thou,"O wall, O sweet, O lovely wall, 
 ' That stand'st between her lather's ground and 
 
 mine; 
 
 ' Thou wall, O wall, O sweet and lovely wall, 
 ' Show me thy chink, to blink through with mine 
 eyne. [Wall holds vjp his fingers. 
 
 Thanks, courteous wall : Jove shield thee well for 
 
 this! 
 
 ' But what see I ? No Thisby do I see. 
 ' O wicked wall, through whom I see no bliss ; 
 ' Curst be thy stones for thus deceiving me !' 
 The. The wall, methinks, being sensible, should 
 curse again. 
 
 Pyr. No, in truth, sir, he should not. Deceiving 
 me, is Thisby's cue : she is to enter now, and I am 
 to spy her through the wall. You shall see, it will 
 fall pat as I told you : Yonder she comes. 
 
 Enter Thisbe. 
 
 This. 'O wall, full often hast thou heard my 
 moans, 
 
 ' For parting my fair Pyrarnus and me : 
 ' My cherry lips have often kiss'd thy stones ; 
 
 ' Thy stones with lime and hair knit up in thee.' 
 
 Pyr'. ' I sfee a voice ; now will I to the chink, 
 ' To spv an I can hear my Thisby's face. 
 'Thisby!' 
 
 This. ' My love ! thou art my love, I think.' 
 
 (3) Called.
 
 MIDSUMMER.NIGHT'S DREAM. 
 
 Jet 
 
 Pyr. ' Think what thou wilt, I am thy lover's 
 
 grace ; 
 
 ' And like Limander am I trusty still.' 
 This. ' And I like Helen, till the fates me kill. 
 Pur. ' Not Shafalus to Procrus was so true.' 
 This. ' As Shafalus to Procrus, I to you.' 
 Pyr. ' O, kiss me through the hole of this vi 
 
 wall.' 
 
 This. ' I kiss the wall's hole, not your lips at all.' 
 
 Pyr. ' Wilt thou at Ninny's tomb meet me 
 straightway ?' 
 
 This. ' Tide life, tide death, I come without de- 
 lay.' 
 
 Wall. ' Thus have I, Wall, my part discharged so; 
 'And, being done, thus Wall away doth go.' 
 
 [Exeunt Wall, Pyramus, and Thisbe. 
 
 The. Now is the mural down between the two 
 neighbours. 
 
 .Dem. No remedy, my lord, when walls are so 
 wilful to hear without warning. 
 
 Hip. This is the silliest stun' that ever I heard. 
 
 The. The best in this kind are but shadows : and 
 the worst are no worse, if imagination amend them. 
 
 Hip. It must be your imagination then, and not 
 theirs. 
 
 The. If we imagine no worse of them, 1han they 
 of themselves, they may pass for excellent men. 
 Here come two noble beasts in, a moon and a lion. 
 
 Enter Lion and Moonshine. 
 
 Lion. ' You, ladies, you, whose gentle hearts do 
 fear 
 
 1 The smallest monstrous mouse that creeps on 
 
 floor, 
 
 4 May now, perchance, both quake and tremble 
 here, 
 
 4 When lion rough in wildest rage doth roar. 
 ' Then know, that I, one Snug the joiner, am 
 ' A lion fell, nor else no lion's d;im : 
 1 For if I should as lion come in strife 
 ' Into this place, 'twere pity on my life.' 
 
 The. A very gentle beast, and of a good con- 
 science. 
 
 Dem. The very best at a beast, my lord, that 
 e'er I saw. 
 
 Li/5. This lion is a very fox for his valour. 
 
 The. True ; and a goose for his discretion. 
 
 Dem. JsotsOj my lord: for his valour cannot 
 carrv his discretion ; and the fox carries the goose. 
 
 '/"?. His discretion, I am sure, cannot carry his 
 valour: for the goose carries not the fox. It is 
 well : leave it to his discretion, and let us listen to 
 the moon. 
 
 Moon. ' This lantern doth the horned moon pre- 
 sent:' 
 
 Dem. He should have worn the horns on his 
 head. 
 
 The. He is no crescent, and his horns are invisi- 
 ble within the circumference. 
 
 .UooH. ' This lantern doth the horned moon 
 
 present ; 
 * Mvself the man i' th' moon do seem to be.' 
 
 The. This is the greatest error of all the rest : 
 the man shoujd be put into the lantern : How is it 
 else the man i' the moon ? 
 
 Dem. He dares not come there for the candle : 
 for, you see, it is already in snuff. 1 
 
 Hip. I am aweary of this moon : Would, he 
 would change ! 
 
 The. It appears, by his small light of discretion, 
 that he is in the wane : but yet, in courtesy, in all 
 reason, we must stay the tune. 
 
 (1) In anger ; a quibble. (2) Coarie yam. 
 
 Lys. Proceed, moon. 
 
 Moon. All that I have to say, is, to tell you, 
 that the lantern is the moon ; I, the man in the 
 moon ; this thorn-bush, my thorn-bush ; and this 
 dog, my dog. 
 
 Dem. Why, all these should be in the lantern ; 
 for they are in the moon. B ul, silence ; here comes 
 Thisbe. 
 
 Enter Thisbe. 
 
 This. ' This is old Ninny's tomb : Where is my 
 
 love ?' 
 Lion. ' Oh.' 
 
 [The Lion roars. Thisbe runs off. 
 Dem. Well roared, lion. 
 The. Well run, Thisbe. 
 
 Hip. Well shone, moon. Truly, the moon 
 shines with a good grace. 
 The. Well moused, lion. 
 
 [The lion tears Thisbe's mantle, and exit. 
 Dem. And so comes Pyramus. 
 Lys. And then the moon vanishes. 
 
 Enter Pyramus. 
 
 Pyr. ' Sweet moon, I thank thee for thy sunny 
 
 beams ; 
 
 4 I thank thee, moon, for shining now so bright : 
 ' For, by thy gracious, golden glittering streams, 
 4 1 trust to taste of truest Thisby's sight. 
 4 But stay ; O spite ! 
 4 But mark : Poor knight, 
 ' What dreadful dole is here ! 
 
 ' Eyes, do you see ? 
 4 O dainty duck ! O dear ! 
 4 Thy mantle good, 
 4 What, stain'd wilh blood ? 
 4 Approach, ye furies fell ! 
 4 O fates ! come, come ; 
 ' Cut thread and thrum ; 2 
 ' Quail, crush, conclude, and quell !' 3 
 The. This passion, and the death of a dear 
 friend, would go near to make a man look sad. 
 Hip. Beshrew my heart, but I pity- the man. 
 Pyr. ' O, wherefore, nature, didst thou lions 
 
 frame ? 
 
 4 Since Hon vile hath here deflour'd my dear: 
 4 Which is no, no which was the fairest dame, 
 4 That liv'd, that lov'd, that lik'd, that look'd witi 
 cheer. 4 
 
 ' Come, tears, confound ; 
 4 Out, sword, and wound 
 4 The pap of Pyramus : 
 ' Ay, that left pap. 
 4 Where heart dolh hop : 
 4 Thus die I, thus, thus, thus. 
 ' Now am I dead, 
 4 Now am I fled ; 
 4 My oul is in the sky : 
 
 4 Tongue, lose thy light ! 
 4 Moon, take thy flight ! 
 4 Now, die, die, die, "die, die. 
 
 (Dies. Exit Moonshine. 
 Dem. No die, but an ace, for him ; for he is but 
 one. 
 
 Lys. Less than an ace, man ; for he is dead ; 
 he is nothing-. 
 
 The. With the help of a surgeon, he might yet 
 recover, and prove an ass. 
 
 Hip. How chance Moonshine is gone, before 
 Thisbe comes back and finds her lover ? 
 
 The. She will find him by star-light. Here she 
 comes j and her passion ends the play. 
 
 (3) Destroy. 
 
 (4) Countenance.
 
 MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S DREAM. 
 
 15* 
 
 Enter Thisbe. 
 
 Hip. Methinks, she should not use a long one, 
 for such a Pyramus : I hope, she will be briei". 
 
 Dem. A mote will turn the balance, which Py- 
 ramus, which Thisbe, is the belter. 
 
 Lys. She hath spied him already with those 
 sweet eyes. 
 
 Dem. And thus she moans, videlicet. 
 
 This. ' Asleep, nriv love ? 
 ' What, dead, my dove ? 
 4 Pyramus, arise, 
 
 ' Speak, speak. Quite dumb ? 
 ' Dead, dead ? A tomb 
 4 Must cover thy sweet eyes. 
 ' These lily brows, 
 4 This cherry nose, 
 1 These yellow cowslip cheeks, 
 ' Are gone, are gone : 
 4 Lovers, make moan ! 
 4 His eyes were green as leeks. 
 4 sisters three, 
 4 Come, come, to me, 
 4 With hands as pale as milk ; 
 4 Lay them in gore, 
 ' Since you have shore 
 4 With shears his thread of silk. 
 ' Tongue, not a word : 
 4 Come, trusty sword ; 
 4 Come, blade, my breast imbrue ; 
 ' And farewell, friends ; 
 ' Thus, Thisby ends : 
 
 4 Adieu, adieu, adieu.' [Dies. 
 
 The. Moonshine and Lion are left to bury the 
 dead. 
 
 Dem. Ay, and Wall too. 
 
 Bot. No, I assure you ; the wall is down that 
 parted their fathers. Will it please you to see the 
 epilogue, or to hear a Bergomask dance, between 
 two of our company ? 
 
 The. No epilogise, I pray you ; for your play 
 needs no excuse. Never excuse ; for when the play- 
 i-rs are all dead, there need none to be blamed. 
 Marry, if he that writ it had play'd Pyramus, and 
 hangea himself in Thisbe's garter, it would have 
 been a fine tragedy : and so it is, truly ; and very 
 notably discharged. But come, your Bergomask : 
 let your epilogue alone. [Here a dance of Clowns. 
 The iron tongue of midnight b;;th told twelve : 
 Lovers, to bed ; 'tis almost fairy time. 
 I fear we shall out-sleep the coming morn, 
 As much as we this night have overwatch'd. 
 This palpable gross play hath well beguil'd 
 The heavy gait 1 of night. Sweet friends, to bed. 
 A fortnight hold we this solemnity, 
 In nightly revels, and new jollity. [Exeunt. 
 
 SCEJVE //. Enter Puck. 
 
 Puck. Now the hungry lion roars, 
 
 And the wolf behowis the moon ; 
 W r hilst Ihe heavy ploughman snores, 
 
 All with weary task fordone. 2 
 Now the wasted" brands do glow, 
 
 Whilst the scritch-owl, scritching loud, 
 Puts the wretch, that lies in wo, 
 
 In remembrance of a shroud. 
 Now it is the time of night, 
 
 That the graves, all gaping wide, 
 Every one leU forth his sprite, 
 
 In the church-way paths to glide: 
 And we fairies, that do run 
 
 By the triple Hecate's team, 
 
 (1) Progress, 
 
 (2) Overcome, 
 
 From the presence of the sun. 
 
 Following darkness like a dream, 
 Now are frolic ; not a mouse 
 Shall disturb this hallow'd house : 
 I am sent, with broom before, 
 To sweep the dust behind the door. 
 
 Enter Oberon and Titania, with, their Train. 
 
 Obe. Through this house give glimmering light, 
 
 By the dead and drowsy fire : 
 Every elf, and fairv sprite, 
 
 Hop as light as bird from brier ; 
 And this ditty, after me, 
 Sing and dance it trippingly. 
 
 tita. First rehearse this song by rote : 
 To each word a warbling note, 
 Hand in hand, with fairy grace, 
 Will we sing, and bless this place. 
 
 SONG, AND DANCE. 
 
 Obe. Now, until the break of day, 
 Through this house each fairy stray. 
 To the best bride-bed will we, 
 Which by us shall blessed be ; 
 And the issue, there create, 
 Ever shall be fortunate. 
 So shall all the couples three 
 Ever true in loving be : 
 And the blots of nature's hand 
 Shall not in their issue stand ; 
 Never mole, hare-lip, nor scar, 
 Nor mark prodigious, 5 such as ar 
 Despised in nativity. 
 Shall upon their children be. 
 With this field-dew consecrate, 
 Every fairy take his gait ;* 
 And each several chamber bless, 
 Through this palace with sweet peace : 
 E'er shall it in safety rest, 
 And the owner of it'blcst. 
 Trip away ; 
 Make no stay; 
 Meet me all by break of day. 
 
 [Exeunt Oberon, Titania, and Train. 
 ?uek. If we shad&ics hate offended, 
 
 Think bid this (and all is mended,) 
 
 That you have but slumbered here, 
 
 Whife these visions did appear. 
 
 .find this weak and idle theme, 
 
 Jfo more ifitlding but a dream, 
 
 G entles, do not reprehend ; 
 
 Jf you pardon, we will mend. 
 
 Jlnd, as I am an honest Puck, 
 
 If we have unearned luck 
 
 Jfou> tn 'scape the serpent's tongue, 
 
 We will mal;e amends, ere long : 
 
 Else the Puck a liar call. 
 
 So, good night unto you all. 
 
 Give me t/owr hands, if we befriends, 
 
 Jlnd Robin shall restore amends. [Exit 
 
 Wild and fantastical as this play is, all the parts 
 in their various modes are well written, and give 
 the kind of pleasure which the author designed. 
 Fairies in his time were much in fashion ; common 
 tradition had made them familiar, and Spencer's 
 poem had made them great. 
 
 JOHNSON. 
 
 (3) Portentous, 
 
 (4)Wjr.
 
 
 ( 158 
 
 LOVE'S LABOUR'S LOST. 
 
 Ferdinand, king o/.V<itorre. 
 
 Biron, i 
 
 Longaville, > lords, attending on the king. 
 
 Dumain, ) 
 
 Boyet, I lords, attending on the princess 
 
 Mercade, J France. 
 
 Don Adriano de Armado, a fantastical Spaniard. 
 
 Sir Nathaniel, a curate. 
 
 Holofernes, a schoolmaster. 
 
 Dull, a constable. 
 
 Costard, a clown. 
 
 Moth, page to *1r>nado. 
 
 PERSONS REPRESENTED. 
 A Forester. 
 
 Princess of France. 
 Rosaline, ) 
 
 o/j Maria, > ladies, attending on the princtts. 
 (Katharine, > 
 Jaquenetta, o country wench. 
 
 Officers and others, attendants on tht king ana 
 princess. 
 
 Scene, . 
 
 ACT I. 
 
 JSCE.VE /.-vVararre. 
 in it. Enter the King 
 Dumain. 
 
 A park, with a palace 
 Biron, Longaville, and 
 
 JLjET fame, that all hunt after in their lives, 
 Live register'd upon our brazen tombs, 
 And then grace us in the disgrace of death ; 
 When, spite of cormorant devouring; time, 
 The endeavour of this present breath may buy 
 That honour, which shall bate his scythe's "keen 
 
 edge, 
 
 And make us heirs of all eternity. 
 Therefore, brave conquerors ! for so you are, 
 That war against your own affections, 
 And the husre urrny of the world's desires, 
 Our late edict .shall strongly stand in force : 
 Navarre shall be the wonder of the world ; 
 Our court shall be a little.acadine, 
 Still and contemplative in living art. 
 You three, Bir6n, Dumain, and Longaville, 
 Have sworn for three years' term U> live with, me, 
 My fellow-scholars, anil to keep those statutes, 
 That are recorded in this schedule here : 
 Your oaths are past, and now subscribe your names ; 
 That his own hand may strike his honour down, 
 That violates the smallest branch, herein : 
 If vou are arm'd to do, as sworn to do, 
 Subscribe to your deep oath, and keep it too. 
 
 iMnif. I am resolv'd : 'tis but a three years' fast; 
 The tnmd shall banquet, though the body pine : 
 Fat paunches have lean pates ; and dainty bits 
 Make rich the ribs, but bank'rout quile the wits. 
 
 7.>itm. My loving lord, Dumain is mortified ; 
 The grosser manner of these world's delights 
 He throws upon the gross world's baser slaves: 
 To love, to wealth, to pomp, I pine and die ; 
 With all these living in philosophy. 
 
 Biron. I can but say their protestation over, 
 So much, dear liege, I have already sworn, 
 That is, To live aiid study here three years, 
 But there are other strict observances : 
 As. not to see a woman in that term ; 
 Which, I hope well, is not enrolled there : 
 
 And, one day in a week to touch no food ; 
 And but one meal on every day beside ; 
 The which, I hope, is not enrolled there : 
 And then to sleep but three hours in the night, 
 And not to be seen to wink of all the day ; 
 (When I was wont to think no harm all night, 
 And make a dark night too of half the day ;) 
 Which, I hope well, is not enrolled there : 
 0, these are barren tasks, too hard to keep : 
 Not to see ladies, study, fast, not sleep. 
 
 King. Your oath is pass'd to pass away from these 
 
 Biron. Let me say no, my liege, an if you please ; 
 I only swore, to study with your grace", 
 And stay here in your court for three years' space. 
 
 Long. You swore to that, Biron, and to the rest. 
 
 Biron. By yea and nay, sir, then I swore in 
 
 jest. 
 What is the end of study ? let me know. 
 
 King. Why, that to know, which else we should 
 not know. 
 
 Biron. Things hid and barr'd, you mean, from 
 common sense ; 
 
 A'in.sr. Ay, that is study's god-like recompense. 
 
 Biron. Come on, then, I will swear to study so. 
 To know the thin',' I am forbid to know : 
 As thus To study where I well may dine, 
 
 When I to feast expressly am forbid ; 
 Or, study where to meet some mistress fine, 
 
 When mistresses from common sense are hid : 
 Or, having f worn too hard-a-keeping oath, 
 Study to break it, and not break my troth. 
 If study's gain be thns^ and this be so, 
 Stud}- know* that, which yet it doth not know : 
 Swear me to this, and I will ne'er say, no. 
 
 King. These be the stops that hinder study quite, 
 And train our intellects to vain delight. 
 
 Biron. Why, all delights are vain ; but that 
 
 most vain, 
 
 WTiich, with pain purchas'd, doth inherit pain : 
 As, painfully to pore upon a book, 
 
 To seek tlie like of truth ; while truth the while 
 Doth falsely 1 blind the eyesight of his look : 
 
 Light, seeking light, doth light of light beguile : 
 So. ere you find where light in darkness lies, 
 Your light grows dark by losing of your eyes. 
 
 (1) Dishonestly treacherously.
 
 LOVE'S LABOUfc'3 LOSf . 
 
 159 
 
 Study me how to please the eye indeed, 
 
 By fixing it upon a fairer eye ; 
 Who dazzling so, that eye snail be his heed, 
 
 And give lum light that was it blinded by. 
 Study is like the heaven's glorious sun, 
 
 That will not be deep-search'd with saucy looks 
 Small have continual plodders ever won, 
 
 Save base authority from others' books. 
 These earthly godfathers of heaven's lights, 
 
 That gave a name to every fixed star, 
 Have no more profit of their shining nights, 
 
 Than those that walk, and wot not what they are. 
 Too much to know, is, to know nought but fame ; 
 And every godfather can give a name. 
 
 King. How well he's read, to reason agains: 
 reading ! 
 
 Dum. Proceeded well, to stop all good pro- 
 ceeding ! 
 
 Long. He weeds the corn, and still lets grow the 
 weeding. 
 
 Biron. The spring is near, when green geese 
 arc a breeding. 
 
 Dum. How follows that? 
 
 Biron. Fit in his place and time. 
 
 Dum. In reason nothing. 
 
 fill-on. Something then in rhyme. 
 
 Lons;. Biron is like an envious sneaping' frost, 
 That bites the first-born infants of the spring. 
 
 Biron. Well, say I am ; why should proud sum- 
 mer boast. 
 
 Before the birds have any cause to sing ? 
 Whv should I joy in an abortive birth ? 
 At Christmas, I no more desire a rose 
 Than wish a snow in May's new-fangled shows ; a 
 But like of each thing-, that in season grows. 
 So you, to study now it is too late, 
 Climb o'er the house to unlock the little gate. 
 
 King. Well, sit you out : go homo, Bir6n ; adieu ! 
 
 Biron. No, my good lord ; I hav-j sworn to stay 
 
 with you : 
 And, though I have for barbarism spoke more', 
 
 Than for th;tt angel knowledge you can say, 
 Yet confident I'll keep what I have swore, 
 
 And 'bide the penance of each three years' day. 
 Give me the paper, let me read the same ; 
 And to the strict'st decrees, I'll write my name. 
 
 King. How well this yielding rescues thee from 
 shame ! 
 
 Biron. [Reads.] Item, That no woman shall 
 
 come within a mile of my court. 
 And hath this been proclaim'd I 
 
 Long. Four days ago. 
 
 Biron. Let's *ee the penalty. 
 [Reads. \ On pain of losing her tongue. 
 
 Who devis'd this ? 
 
 Long. Marry, that did I. 
 
 Biron. S weet lord, and why ? 
 
 Long. To fright them hence with that dread 
 penalty. 
 
 Biron. A dangerous law aaainst gentility. 
 
 [Reads.] Item, Jf any man be seen to talk with 
 a woman within the term of three years, he shall 
 endure such public shame as the rest of the court 
 can possibly devise 
 This article, my liege, yourself must break ; 
 
 For, well you know, here comes in embassy 
 The French king's daughter, with yourself to 
 speak, 
 
 A maid of grace, and c6mplete majesty, 
 About surrender-up of Aquitain 
 
 To her decrepit, sick, and bed-rid father : 
 
 SI) Nipping. 
 3) Reside. 
 
 IS! 
 
 Games, sports. 
 4) Temptations. 
 
 Therefore this article is made in vain, 
 Or vainly comes the admired princess hither. 
 King. What say you, lords ? why, this wt* 
 
 quite forgot. 
 
 Biron. So study evermore is overshot ; 
 While it doth study to have what it would, 
 It doth forget to do the thing it should : 
 And when it hath the thing it hunteth most, 
 'Tis won, as towns with fire ; so won, so lost. 
 King. We must, of force, dispense with this 
 
 decree ; 
 
 She must lie 3 here on mere necessity. 
 Biron. Necessity will make us all forsworn 
 Three thousand times within this three years' 
 
 space : 
 For every man with his affects is born ; 
 
 Not by might master'd, but by special grace : 
 If I break faith, this word shall speak for me, 
 I am forsworn on mere necessity. 
 So to the laws at large I write my name : 
 
 [Subscribei. 
 
 And he that breaks them in the least degree, 
 Stands in attainder of eternal shame : 
 
 Suggestions* are to others, as to me ; 
 But, I oelieve, although I seem so loth, 
 [ am the last that will last keep his oath. 
 But is there no quick 5 recreation granted : 
 King. Ay, that there is : our court, you know, 
 
 is haunted 
 
 With a refined traveller of Spain ; 
 A man in all the world's new fashion planted, 
 That hath a mint of phrases in his brain : 
 3ne, whom the music of his own vain tongue 
 
 Doth ravish, like enchanting harmony ; 
 A, man of complements, whom right and wrong 
 
 Have chose as umpire of their mutiny : 
 This child of fancy, that Armado hight,' 
 
 For interim to our studies, shall relate, 
 In high-born words, the worth of many a knight 
 
 From tawny Spain, lost in the world's debate, 
 [low you delight, my lords, I know not, I ; 
 But I protest, I love to hear him lie, 
 And I will use him for my minstrelsy. 
 
 Biron. Armado is a mo'st illustrious wight, 
 A man of fire-new words, fashion's own knight. 
 Long. Costard the swain, and he, shall be our 
 
 sport ; 
 And, so to study, three years is but short. 
 
 Enter Dull, with a letter, and Costard. 
 
 Dull. Which is the duke's own person 7 
 
 Birnn. This, fellow ; What would'st ? 
 
 Dull. I myself reprehend his own person, for I 
 im his grace's tharboroujrh : 7 but I would see his 
 own person in flesh and blood. 
 
 Biron. This is he. 
 
 Dull. Senior Arme Arme commends you. 
 There's villany abroad ; this letter will tell you 
 noro. 
 
 Cost. Sir, the contempts thereof are as touching 
 me. 
 
 King. A letter from the magnificent Armado. 
 
 Biron. How low soever the matter, I hope in 
 
 od for high words. 
 
 Long. A high hope for a low having : God grant 
 us patience ! 
 
 Biron. To hear? or forbear hearing? 
 
 Long. To hear meekly, sir, and to laugh mode- 
 rately ; or to forbear both. 
 
 Biron. Well, sir, be it as the style shall give Uf 
 cause to climb in the merriness. 
 
 (5) Lively, sprightly. (6) Called. 
 
 (7) , e. third-borough, a peace-officer.
 
 LOVE'S LABOUR'S LOST. 
 
 Actt. 
 
 Cost. The matter is to me, sir, as concerning 'stcat'n,) I keep her as a vesstl of thy law's fury; 
 ,. The manner ol it is, I was taken anil shall, at the least of thy sweet notice, bring ' 
 
 Jaqucnetta 
 with the manner. 
 
 Biron. In what manner? 
 
 Cost. In manner and form following, sir; 
 
 her 
 
 following her into the park ; which, put toother, 
 
 to trial. Thine, in all compliments of devoted and 
 heart-buniine heat of duty, 
 all DON ADR1ANO DE ARMADO. 
 
 . This is not so well as I looked for, but 
 hat ever 
 Ay, the 
 
 God defend the right! 
 
 King. Will you hear this letter with attention ? 
 
 Biron. As we would hear an oracle. 
 
 Cost. Such is the simplicity of man to hearken 
 after the flesh. 
 
 King. [Reads.] Great deputy, the WtUtin't vice- 
 gerent, and sole dominator of ffatttrrt, my soul's 
 earth's God, and body's fostering patron, 
 
 Cost. Not a word of Costard yet. 
 
 King. So it is, 
 
 Cost. It may be so : but if he say it is so, he is, 
 in telling true, but so, so. 
 
 King. Peace. 
 
 Cosh be to me, and every man that dares 
 not fight! 
 
 King. No words. 
 
 Cost. of other men's secrets, I beseech you. 
 
 King. So it is, besiegtd icilh sable-coloured 
 melancholy, I did commend the black-oppressing 
 humour to the most wholesome physic of tny health- 
 giving air ; and, as I am a gentleman, be'tvok my- 
 self to walk. The time when ? Jlbout the sixth 
 hour ; when beasts most graze, birds best peck, and 
 men sit down to that nourishment which is'called 
 supper. So much for the time when. New for the 
 ground which; which, I mean, I walked upon : 
 it is ycieped thy park. Then for the placi where ; 
 where, 1 mean, I did mcounter that obscene ana 
 most preposterous event, that draweth from my 
 snotc-white pen the ebm-coloured ink, which hen 
 thau viewest, beholttest, surveyest, or seesl : but to 
 the place, where, It standeth north-north-east and 
 by east from the west corner of thy curious-knotted 
 garden: there did I see that loio-spiriled swain, 
 that base minnow of thy mirth, 
 
 Cost. Me. 
 
 King. that unletler'd small-knowing soul, 
 
 Cost. Me. 
 
 King. that shallmc vassal, 
 
 Cost. Still me. 
 
 King. which, as I remember, hight Cos- 
 tard, 
 
 Cost. O me ! 
 
 King. sorted and consorted, contrary to thy 
 established proclaimed edict and continent canon, 
 with tost/i, with but with this 1 passion to 
 say wherewith > 
 
 Cost. With a wench. 
 
 King. with a child of our grandmother Eve, 
 a female ; or, for thy more sweet understanding, a 
 woman. Him I (as my ever-esteemed duty pricks 
 me on) have sent to thee, to receive the meed of 
 punishment, by thy sweet grace's officer, Antony 
 Didl; a man of good repute, carriage, bearing, 
 and estimation. 
 
 Dull. Me, an't shall please you ; I am Antony 
 Dull. 
 
 King. For Jaquenetta (so is the weaker vessel 
 called, which I apprehended with the aforesaid 
 
 (1) In the fact. 
 
 (2) A young man. 
 
 confess the wench. 
 
 hear the proclamation ? 
 fcss much of the hearing it, but 
 little of the marking of it. 
 
 King. It was proclaimed a year's imprisonment, 
 to be taken with a wench. 
 
 Cost. I was taken with none, sir, I was taken 
 with a damosel. 
 
 King. Well, it was proclaimed damosel. 
 Cost. This was no damosel neither, sir ; she wa 
 a virgin. 
 
 King. It is so varied too; for it was proclaimed, 
 virgin. 
 
 Cost. If it were, I deny her virginity ; I ww 
 taken with a maid. 
 
 King. This maid will not serve your turn, sir. 
 Cost. This maid will serve my turn, sir. 
 King. Sir, I will pronounce your sentence ; You 
 [shall fast a week with bran and water. 
 
 Cost. I had rather pray a month with mutton 
 and porridge. 
 
 King. And Don Armado shall be your keeper. 
 My lord Biron see him deliyer'd o'er. 
 And go we, lords, to put in practice that 
 Which each to other hath so strongly sworn. 
 
 {Exeunt King, Longaville, ana Dumain. 
 Biron. I'll lay my head to any good man's hat, 
 These oaths and laws will prove an idle scorn. 
 Sirrah, come on. 
 
 Cost. I suffer fur the truth, sir: for true it is, I 
 was taken with Jaquenetta, and Jaquenetta is a 
 true girl ; and therefore, Welcome the sour cup of 
 prosperity ! Affliction may one day smile again, 
 and till then, Sit thee down, sorrow j , {Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE1L Another part of the same. Arma- 
 do's house. Enter Armado and Moth. 
 
 Jirm. Boy, what sign is it, when a man of great 
 spirit grows melancholy ? 
 
 Moth. A great si<*n, sir, that he will look sad. 
 
 Jlrm. Why, sadness is one and the self-samt 
 thing, dear imp. 
 
 Moth. No, no ; O lord, sir, no. 
 
 Jlrm. How canst thou part sadness and melan- 
 choly, my tender Juvenal ?* 
 
 Moth. By a familiar demonstration of the work- 
 ing, my tough senior. 
 
 arm. Why tough senior ? whv tough senior ? 
 
 Moth. Why tender Juvenal? why tender Juvenal? 
 
 Jlrm. I spoke i!, tender juvenal, as a congruent 
 epitheton, appertaining to thy young days, which 
 we may nominate tender. 
 
 Moth. And I, tough senior, as an appertinent 
 title to your old time, which we may name tough. 
 
 Jlrm. Pretty, and apt. 
 
 Moth. How mean you, sir? I pretty, and my 
 saying apt ? or I apt, and my saying pretty ? 
 
 Jlrm. Thou pretty, because little. 
 Motli. Little prettv, because little: Wherefore apt? 
 
 Jlrm. And therefore ant, because quick. 
 
 Moth. Speak you this in my praise, master? 
 
 Jlrm. In thv condign praise. 
 
 Moth. I will praise an eel with the same praise. 
 
 Jinn. What ? that an eel is ingenious '
 
 Sctnt II. 
 
 LOVE'S LABOUR'S LOST. 
 
 1C1 
 
 Mo'.h. That an eel is quick. 
 
 Arm. I do say, thou art quick in answers: Thou 
 heatest my blood. 
 
 Moth. I am answered, sir. 
 
 .2nn. I love not to be crossed. 
 
 Moth. He speaks the mere contrary, crosses' 
 love not him. [Aside. 
 
 Arm. I have promised to study three years with 
 the duke. 
 
 Moth. You may do it in an hour, sir. 
 
 Arm. Impossible. 
 
 Muth. How many is one thrice told ? 
 
 Arm. I am ill at reckoning, it fitteth the spirit of 
 a tapster. 
 
 Moth. You are a gentleman, and a gamester, sir. 
 
 Arm. 1 confess both ; they are both the varnish 
 of a complete man. 
 
 Moth. Then, I am sure you know how much the 
 gross sum of deuce-ace amounts to. 
 
 Arm. It dolh amount to one more than two. 
 
 Moth. Which the base vulgar do call, three. 
 
 Arm. True. 
 
 Moth. Why, sir, is this such a piece of study ? 
 Now here is three studied, ere you'll thrice wink: 
 and how easy it is to put years to the word three, 
 
 and study three years in two words, the dancing- 
 horse will tell you. 
 
 Arm. A most fine figure ! 
 
 Moth. To prove you a cypher. [Aside. 
 
 Arm. I will hereupon confess, I am in love: and, 
 as it is base for a soldier to love, so am I in love 
 with a base wench. If drawing my sword against 
 the humour of affection would deliver me from the 
 reprobate thought of it, I would take desire pri- 
 soner, and ransom him to any French courtier for 
 a new devised courtesy. I think scorn to sigh ; 
 methinks, I should out-swear Cupid. Comfort me, 
 boy : What great men have been in love ? 
 
 Moth. Hercules, master. 
 
 Arm. Most sweet Hercules! More authority, 
 dear boy, name more ; and, sweet my child, let 
 them be men of good repute and carriage. 
 
 Moth. Samson, master: he was a man of good 
 carriage, great carriage ; for he carried the town- 
 gates on his back, like a porter: and he was in love. 
 
 Arm. O well-knit Samson ! strong-jointed Sam- 
 son ! I do excel thee in my rapier, as much as thou 
 didst me in carrying gates. I am in love too, Who 
 was Samson's love, my dear Moth? 
 
 Moth. A woman, master'. 
 
 Arm. Of what complexion ? 
 
 Moth. Of all the four, or the three, or the two ; 
 or one of the four. 
 
 Arm. Tell me precisely of what complexion. 
 
 Moth. Of the sea- water green, sir. 
 
 Arm. Is that one of the four complexions? 
 
 Moth. As I have read, sir ; and the best of them 
 too. 
 
 Arm. Green, indeed, is the colour of lovrrs: but 
 
 Moth. If she be made of white and red, 
 
 Her faults will ne'er be known ; 
 For blushing cheeks by faults are bred, 
 
 And fears by pale- white shown: 
 Then, if she fear, or be to blame, 
 
 By this you shall not know ; 
 For still her cheeks possess the same, 
 
 Which native she doth owe.* 
 A dangerous rhyme, master, against the reason of 
 white and red. 
 
 Arm. Is there not a ballad, boy, of the King and 
 the Beggar ? 
 
 Moth. The world was very guilty of such a bal- 
 lad some three ages since : but, I think, now 'tis 
 not to be found ; or, if it were, it would neither 
 serve for the writing, nor the tune. 
 
 Arm. I 
 that I ma 
 
 precedent. Boy, I do love that country girl, that I 
 took in the park with the rational hind Costard; 
 she deserves well. 
 Moth. To be whipped; and yet a better lore 
 
 I will have the subject newly writ o'er, 
 y example my digression 3 by some mighty 
 
 than my master. 
 
 [Aside. 
 
 Arm. Sing, boy; my spirits grow heavy in love- 
 Moth. And that's great marvel, loving a light 
 
 wench. 
 Arm. I say, sing. 
 Moth. Forbear till this company be past. 
 
 Enter Dull, Costard, and Jaquenetta. 
 
 Dull. Sir, the duke's pleasure is, that you keep 
 Costard safe ; and you must let him take no deli/rht, 
 nor no penance ; but a'must fast three days a-week: 
 For this damsel, I must keep her at the park ; she 
 is allowed for the day-woman.* Fare you well. 
 
 Arm. I do betray "myself with blushing;. Maid. 
 
 Jaq. Man. 
 
 Arm. I will visit thee at the lodge. 
 
 Jaq. That's hereby. 
 
 Arm. I know where it is situate. 
 
 Jaq. Lord, how wise you are! 
 
 Arm. I will tell thee wonders. 
 
 Jaq. With that face ? 
 
 Arm. I love thee. 
 
 Jaq. So I heard you say. 
 
 Arm. And so farewell. 
 
 Jaq. Fair weather after you ! 
 
 Dull. Come, Jaquenelta, away. 
 
 [Exeunt Dull and Jaquenetta. 
 
 Arm. Villain, thou shalt fast for thy offences, 
 ere thou be pardoned. 
 
 Cos/. Well, sir, I hope, when I do it, I shall do 
 it on a full stomach. 
 
 Arm. Thou shalt be heavily punished. 
 
 Cost. I am more bound to you, than your fellows, 
 for they are but lightly rewarded. 
 
 Arm. Take away this villain ; shut him up. 
 
 Moth. Come, you transgressing slave ; away. 
 
 Cost. Let me not be pent up, sir ; I will fast, 
 
 to have a love of that colour, methinks, Samsonlbeing loose. 
 
 had small reason for it. lie, surely, affected her Moth. No, sir; that were fast and loose: thou 
 
 for her wit. j shalt to prison. 
 
 Moth. It was so, sir ; for she had a creen wit. I Cost. Well, if ever I do see the merry days of 
 Arm. My love is most immaculate white and red. 'desolation that I have seen, some shall se'c 
 Moth. Most maculate thoughts, master, are! Mot h. What shall some see ? 
 
 masked under such colours. 
 Arm. Define, define, well-educated infant. 
 Moth. My father's wit, and my mother's tongue, 
 
 assist me ! 
 Arm. Sweet invocation of a child ; most pretty, 
 
 and pathetical ! 
 
 M J The name of a coin once current 
 (2) Of which she is naturally possessed* 
 
 Cost. Nay, nothing, master Moth, but what they 
 look upon. It is not for prisoners to be too silent 
 in their words ; and, therefore, I will say nothing : 
 I thank God, I have as little patience as another 
 man ; and, therefore, I can be quiet. 
 
 [Exeunt Moth and Costard. 
 
 Arm. I do affect 1 the very ground, which is base, 
 
 (3) Transgression. (4) Dairy-woman. (&) Lore,
 
 1(52 
 
 LOVE'S LABOUR'S LOST. 
 
 where her shoe, which is baser, guided by her foot, | Between lord Perigort and the beauteous heir 
 which is basest, doth tread. 1 shall be forswonilOf Jacques Falcoribridge solemnized, 
 
 an o an a e rue ove, wc s a a- 
 
 tempted ? Love is a familiar ; love is a devil : there) Well fitted in the arts, glorious in arms : 
 
 is no evil an^el but love. Yet Samson was so] Nothing becomes him ill, that he would well. 
 
 tempted: and he had an excellent strength : yet i The only soil of his fair virtue's gloss, 
 
 was Solomon so seduced ; and he had a very good (If virtue's gloss will stain with any soil,) 
 
 wit. Cnpid's butt-shaft 1 is too hard for Hercules' Is a sharp wit match'd with too blunt a will : 
 
 club, and therefore too much odds for a Spaniard's Whose edge hath power to cut, whose will still 
 
 rapier. The first and second cause will not serve! wills 
 
 my turn ; the passado hs respects not, the duello! It should none spare that come within his power. 
 
 he regards not : his disgrace is to be called boy; Prin. Some merry mocking lord, belike: is'tso? 
 
 but his glory is, to subdue men. Adieu, valour! Mar. They say so most, that most his humours 
 
 rust, rapier ! be still, drum ! for your manager is know. 
 
 in love ; yea, he loveth. Assist me, some extern- Prin. Such short-liv'd wits do wither as they 
 
 poral god of rhyme, for, lam sure, I shall turn son- i grow. 
 
 netteer. Devise wit ; write pen ; for I ain for whole j Who are the rest ? 
 
 volumes in folio. 
 
 [Exit. 
 
 ACT II. 
 
 SGEJVE /. Another part of the same. *1 pavi- 
 lion and tents at a distance. Enter the Princess 
 of France, Rosaline, Maria, Katharine, Boyet, 
 Lords, and other attendants. 
 Boyet. Now, madam, summon up your dearest 4 
 
 spirits : 
 
 Consider who the king your father sends ; 
 To whom he sends - } and what's his embassy : 
 Yourself, held precious in the world's esteem , 
 To parley with the sole inheritor 
 Of all perfections that a man may owe, 
 Matchless Navarre ; the plea of no less weight 
 Than Aquitain ; a dowry for a queen. 
 Be now as prodigal of all dear grace, 
 As nature \vas in making graces dear, 
 When she did starve the general world beside, 
 And prodigally gave them all to you. 
 Pnn. Good lord Boyet, my beauty, though but 
 
 mean, 
 
 Needs not the painted flourish of your praise ; 
 Beauty is bought by judgment of the eye, 
 Not utter'd by base sale of chapmen's tongues : 
 I am less proud to hear you tell my worth, 
 Than you much willing'to be counted wise 
 In spending your wit in the praise of mine. 
 But now to task the tasker, Good Boyet, 
 You are not ignorant, all-telling fame 
 Doth noise abroad, Navarre hath made a vow, 
 Till painful study shall out-wear three years, 
 No woman may approach his silent court: 
 Therefore to us seemeth it a needful course, 
 Before we enter his forbidden gates, 
 To know his pleasure ; and in that behalf, 
 Bold of your worthiness, we single you 
 As our best-moving fair solicitor: 
 Tell him, the daughter of the king of France, 
 On serious business, craving quick despatch, 
 Imp6rtunes personal conference with his grace. 
 Haste, signify so much ; while we attend, 
 Like humble-visag'd suitors, his high will. 
 Boyet. Proud of employment, willingly I go. 
 
 [Exit. 
 
 Prin. All pride is willing pride, and yours is so. 
 Who are the votaries, my loving lords, 
 That are vow-fellows with this virtuous duke ? 
 1 Lord. Longavillc is one. 
 Prin. Know you the man ? 
 
 .War. I know him, madam ; at a marriage feast, 
 
 < I) Arrotf to shoot at uutts with, (2) Best, 
 
 Kath. The young Dumain, a well-accomplish'd 
 
 youth, 
 
 | Of all that virtue love for virtue lov'd : 
 Most power to do most harm, least knowing ill ; 
 For he hath wit to make an ill shape good, 
 And shape to win grace though he had no wit 
 I saw him at the duke Alen<jon's once ; 
 And much too little of that good I saw, 
 Is my report, to his great worthiness. 
 
 Ros. Another of these students at that time 
 Was there with him : if I have heard a truth, 
 Biron they call him : but a merrier man. 
 Within the limit of becoming mirth, 
 I never spent an hour's talk withal : 
 His eye begets occasion for his wit ; 
 For every object that the one doth catch, 
 The other turns to a mirth-moving jest ; 
 Which his fair tongue (conceit's expositor,) 
 Deliver's in such apt and gracious words, 
 That aged ears play truant at his tales, 
 And younger hearings are quite ravished ; 
 So sweet and voluble is his discourse. 
 
 Prin. God bless my ladies ! are they all in love ; 
 That every one her own hath garnished 
 With such bedecking- ornaments of praise ? 
 
 Jlfar. Here comes Boyet. 
 
 Re-enter Boyet. 
 
 Prin. Now, what admittance, lord ? 
 
 Boyet. Navarre had notice of your fair approach ; 
 And he, and his competitors 3 in oath, 
 Were all address'd 4 to meet you, gentle lady, 
 Before I came. Marry, thus much I have learnt, 
 He rather means to lodge you in the field 
 (Like one that comes here~to besiege, his court,) 
 Than seek a dispensation for his oath, 
 To let you enter his unpeopled house. 
 Here comes NaVarre. [The ladies mask. 
 
 Enter King, Longaville. Dumain, Biron, and at- 
 tendants. 
 
 King. Fair princess, welcome to the court of 
 
 Navarre. 
 
 Prin. Fair, I give you back again ; and, wel- 
 come I have not yet: the roof of this court is too 
 high to be yours ; - and welcome to the wild fields 
 too base to be mine. 
 King. You shall be welcome, madam, to my 
 
 court. 
 Prin. I will be welcome then; conduct me 
 
 thither. 
 
 King. Hear me, dear lady; I have sworn an oath. 
 Pnn. Our lady help my lord ! he'll be forsworn. 
 King. Not for the world, fair madam, by my will. . 
 
 (3) Confederates, (4) Prepared,
 
 Sient I. 
 
 LOVE'S LABOUR'S LOST. 
 
 163 
 
 Prin. Why, will shall brent it ; will, and nothing 
 else' 
 
 King. Your ladyship is ignorant what it is. 
 
 Prin. Were my lord so, his ignorance were wise. 
 Where 1 now his knowledge must prove ignorance. 
 I hear, your grace hath sworn out house-keeping : 
 "Tis deadly sin to keep that oath, my lord, 
 And sin to break it : 
 But pardon me, I am too sudden-bold ; 
 To teach a teacher ill beseemeth me. 
 Vouchsafe to read the purpose of my coming 1 , 
 And suddenly resolve me in my suit. 
 
 [Gifts* paper, 
 
 King. Madam, I will, if suddenly I may. 
 
 Priii. You will the sooner, tl.-.t 1 v, ere away ; 
 For you'll prove perjur'd, if you make me .stay. 
 
 Biron. Did not I dance with you in Brabant 
 once ? 
 
 Ros. Did not I dance with you in Brabant once ? 
 
 Biron. 1 k::ow, you did. 
 
 Ros. How needless was it then 
 
 To ask the question ! 
 
 Birnn. You must not be so quick. 
 
 Res. 'Tis 'long; of you that spur me with such 
 questions. 
 
 Biron. Your wit's too hot, it speeds too fast, 
 'twill tire. 
 
 Ros. Not till it leaves the rider in the mire. 
 
 Biron. What time o* day ? 
 
 Ros. The hour that fools should ask. 
 
 Biron. Now fair befall your mask! 
 
 Ros. Fair fall the face it covers ! 
 
 Biron. And send you many lovers ! 
 
 Ros. Amen, so you be none. 
 
 Biron. Nav, then will I be pone. 
 
 King. Madam, your father here doth intimate, 
 The payment of a hundred thousand crowns ; 
 Being but the one half of an entire sum, 
 Disbursed by my father in his wars. 
 But say, that he", or we (as neither have,) 
 Receiv'd that sum ; yet there remains unpaid 
 A hundred thousand more ; in surety of the which, 
 One part of Aquitain is bound to us, 
 Although not valued to the money's worth. 
 If then the king your father will restore 
 But that one half which is unsatisfied, 
 We will ?ivc up our right in Aquitain, 
 And hold fair friendship with his majesty. 
 But that, it seems, he little purposeth, 
 For here he doth demand to have repaid 
 A hundred thousand crowns ; and not demands, 
 On payment of a hundred thousand crowns, 
 To have his title live in Aquitain ; 
 Which we much rather had depart 1 withal, 
 And have the money by our father lent, 
 Than Aquitain so geldeu a? it i. 
 Dear princess, were not his requests so far 
 From reason's yielding, your fair self should make 
 A yielding, 'gainst some reason, in my breast, 
 And go well satisfied to France again. 
 
 Prin. You do the kin? my father too much wrong, 
 And wrong the reputation" of your name, 
 In co uns'ceming to confess receipt 
 Of that which hath so faithfully b'ern paid. 
 
 Kin*. I do protest, I never "heard of it; 
 And, if you prove it, I'll repay it back, 
 Or vield up Aquitain. 
 
 Prin. We arrest your word : 
 
 Boyet, vou can produce acquittances, 
 For such a sum, from special officers 
 Of Charles his father. 
 
 King. Satisfy me so. 
 
 (1) Whereas, (2) Part, (3)Ayc,ye, 
 
 Boy ft. So please your grace, the packet n not 
 
 come, 
 
 Where that and other specialities are bound, 
 To-morrow you shall have a sight of them. 
 
 King. It shall suffice we : at which interview 
 All liberal reason I will yield unto. 
 Meantime, receive such welcome at my hand, 
 As honour, without breach of honour, may 
 Make tender of to thy true worthiness : 
 You may not come, lair princess, in my gates ; 
 But here without you shall be so receiv'd, 
 As you shall deem yourself lodg'd in my heart, 
 Though so denied lair harbour m my house, 
 j Yottr own good thoughts excuse me, and farewell ; 
 To-morrow shall we visit you again. 
 
 Prin. Sweet health and fair desires consort your 
 grace ! 
 
 King. Thy own wish wish I thee in every place ! 
 [Exeunt King and his Train. 
 
 Biron. Lady, I will commend you to my own 
 heart. 
 
 Ros. 'Pray you, do my commendations ; I would 
 be glad to see it. 
 
 Biron. I would, you heard it groan? 
 
 Ros. Is the fool sick ? 
 
 Biron. Sick at heart. 
 
 Ros. Alack, let it blood. 
 
 Biron. AVould that do it good ? 
 
 Ros. My physic says. I. 3 
 
 Biron. Will you prick't with your eye ? 
 
 Ros. No^>oynf,* with mv knife. 
 
 Biron. N ow, God save thy life ! 
 
 Ros. And yours from long living ! 
 
 Biron. I cannot stay thanksgiving. [Retiring. 
 
 Diim. Sir, I pray you, a word: What lady a 
 that same ? 
 
 Boyet. The heir of Alencon, Rosaline her name. 
 
 Dum. A gallant lady ! Monsieur, fare you well. 
 
 [Exit. 
 
 Long. I beseech vou a word ; What is she in 
 the white ? " 
 
 Boyet. A. woman sometimes, an you saw her in 
 the light. 
 
 Long. Perchance, light in the light : I desire her 
 name. 
 
 Boyet. She hath but one for herself; to desire 
 that, were a shame. 
 
 /xmg\ Pray you, sir, whose daughter ? 
 
 Boyet. Her mother's, I have heard. 
 
 Long. God's blessing on your beard ! 
 
 Boyet. Good sir, be not o'ficnded : 
 She is an heir of Falconbridge. 
 
 Z-oig-. Nay, my choler is ended. 
 She is a most sweet lady. 
 
 Boyet. Not unlike, sir; that may be. 
 
 f Exit Long. 
 
 Biron. What's her name, in the cap 1 
 
 Boytt. Katharine, by good hap. 
 
 Biron. Is she wedde'd, or no ? 
 
 Boyet.. To her will, sir, or .o. 
 
 Biron. You arc welcome,, sir ; adieu ! 
 
 Boyet. Farewell to me, sir, and welcome to you. 
 \Krit Biron. Ladies unmask. 
 
 JIar. That last is Biron, the merry mad-cap lord ; 
 Not a word with him but a jest. 
 
 Bm/tt. And every jest but a word. 
 
 Prin. It was well done of yo'uto take him at his 
 word. 
 
 Boyet. I was as willing to grapple, as he was to 
 board. 
 
 -War. Two hot sheeps, marry ! 
 
 Boyet. And wherefore not hips ? 
 
 (4) A French particle of negation,
 
 164 
 
 LOVE'S LABOUR'S LOST. 
 
 Act III. 
 
 No sheep, sweet lamb, unless we feed on your lips. [ 
 ,\far. You sheep, and I pasture ; Shall that finish 1 
 
 the jest ? 
 Boyet. So you grant pasture for me. 
 
 [Offering to kiss her. 
 
 Arm. How means't thou ? brawling in French ? 
 
 Moth. No, my complete master : but to jig off 
 a tune at the tongue's end, canary* to it with your 
 feet, humour it with turning up your eyelids ; sigh 
 a note, and sing a note ; sometime through the 
 
 Mar. NoT so, gentle beast ; jthroaty as if you swallowed love with singinsr love ; 
 
 Mv lips are no common, thoug-h several' they be. sometime through the nose, as if you snuffed up 
 
 Boyet. Belonging to whom f 
 
 Mar. 
 
 To my fortunes and me. 
 
 Prin. Good wits will be jangling: but, gentles, 
 
 agree : 
 
 The civil war of wits were much better used 
 On Navarre and his book-men ; for here 'tis abused. 
 
 Boyet. If my observation (wliich very seldom 
 
 lies,) 
 
 By the heart's still rhetoric, disclosed with eyes, 
 Deceive me not now. Navarre is infected. 
 
 Prin. With what? 
 
 Boyet. With that which we lovers entitle, affected. 
 
 Prin. Your reason ? 
 
 Boyet. Why, all his behaviours did make their 
 
 retire 
 
 To the court of his eye, peeping thorough desire : 
 His heart, like an agate, with your print impressed, 
 Proud with his form, in his eye pride expressed, 
 His tongue, all impatient to speak and not see, 
 Did stumble with haste in his eye-sight to be ; 
 All senses to that sense did make their repair, 
 To feel only looking on fairest of fair : 
 Methought, all his senses were lock'd in his eye, 
 As jewels in crystal for some prince to buy : 
 Who, tendering their own worth, from where they 
 
 were glass'd, 
 
 Did point you to buy them, along as you pass'd. 
 His face's own margent did quote such amazes, 
 That all eyes saw his eyes enchanted with gazes : 
 I'll give you Aquitain, and all that is his, 
 An you give him for my sake but one loving kiss. 
 
 Prin. Come, to our pavilion: Boyet is dispos'd 
 
 Boyet. But to speak that in words, which his 
 
 eye hath disclos'd : 
 I only have made a mouth of his eye, 
 By adding a tongue which I know will not He. 
 
 .Ros. Thou art an old love-monger, and speak'sl 
 skilfully. 
 
 Mar. He is Cupid's grandfather, and learns 
 news of him. 
 
 Ros. Then was Venus like her mother ; for her 
 father is but grim. 
 
 Boy tt. Do you hear, my mad wenches ? 
 
 Mar. No. 
 
 Boyet. What then, do you see ? 
 
 Ros. Ay, our way to be gone. 
 
 Boyet. You are too hard for me. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 ACT III. 
 
 SCENE I.^lnolher part of the same. Enter 
 Armado and Moth. 
 
 Arm. Warble, child ; make passionate my sense 
 of hearing. 
 
 Moth. Concolind- 
 
 [Singing. 
 
 Arm. Sweet air ! Go, tenderness of years ; take 
 tills key, give enlargement to the swain, bring him 
 festinately 2 hither ; 1 must employ him in a letter 
 to my love. 
 
 Moth. Master, wfll you win your love with a 
 French brawl ?' 
 
 1) A quibble, several signified unenclosed lands. 
 
 2) Hastily. (3) A kind of dance. 
 
 love by smelling love; with your hat penthouse- 
 like, o'"er the shop of your eyes ; with your arma 
 crossed on your thin belly -doublet, like a rabbit on 
 a spit ; or your hands in your pocket, like a man 
 after the old painting ; and keep not too long in 
 one tune, but a snip and away : These are com- 
 plements, these are humours ; these betray nice 
 wenches that would be betraved without these : 
 and make them men of note (do you note, men?) 
 that are most affected to these. 
 
 Arm. How hast thou purchased this experience 7 
 
 Moth. By my penny of observation. 
 
 .inn. But O, but O, 
 
 Moth. the hobby-horse is forgot. 
 
 Arm. Callest thou my love, hobby-horse ? 
 
 Moth. No, master ; the hobby-horse is but a colt, 
 and your love, perhaps, a hackney. But have you 
 forgot your love ? 
 
 Arm. Almost I had. 
 
 Moth. Negligent student ! learn her by heart. 
 
 Arm. By heart, and in heart, boy. 
 
 Moth. And out of heart, master : all those three 
 I will prove. 
 
 Arm. What wilt thou prove '! 
 
 Moth. A man, if I live : and this, by, in, and 
 without, upon the instant : By heart you love her, 
 because your heart cannot come by her ; in heart 
 you love her, because your heart is in love with her ; 
 and out of heart you love her, being out of heart 
 that you cannot enjoy her. 
 
 Ann. I am all these three. 
 
 Moth. And three times as much more, and yet 
 nothing at all ! 
 
 Arm. Fetch hither the swain ; he must carry me 
 a letter. 
 
 Moth. A message well sympathised ; a horse to 
 be ambassador for an ass ! 
 
 Ann. Ha, ha ! what sayest thou ? 
 
 Moth. Marry, sir, you must send the ass upon 
 the horse, for he is very slow-gaited : But I go. 
 
 Arm. The way is but short ; away. 
 
 Moth. As swift as lead, sir. 
 
 Arm. Thy meaning, pretty ingenious ? 
 Is not lead a metal heavy, dull, and slow ? 
 
 Moth. Minimt, honest master ; or rather, mas- 
 ter, no. 
 
 Ann. I say, lead is slow. 
 
 Moth. You are too swift, 5 sir, to say so ; 
 
 Is that lead slow which is fir'd from a gun ? 
 
 Arm. Sweet smoke of rhetoric ! 
 He reputes me a cannon ; ^nd the bullet, that's 
 
 he: 
 I shoot thee at the swain. 
 
 Moth. Thump then, and I flee. 
 
 [Exit. 
 
 Arm. A most acute juvcnal ; roluble and free 
 
 of grace ! 
 
 By thy favour, sweet welkin, I must sigh in thy face; 
 Most rude melancholy, valour gives thee place. 
 My herald is return'd". 
 
 Re-enter Moth and Costard. 
 
 Moth. A wonder, master ; here's a Costard* 
 broken in a shin. 
 
 (4) Canary was the name of a sprightly dance. 
 (6) Quick, ready. (6) A 'head.
 
 Scent I. 
 
 LOVE'S LABOUR'S LOST. 
 
 165 
 
 .Jrm. Some enigma, some i.ddle: come, thy [ranee; and, in lieu thereof, impose on thce nothing 
 Penvoy ; ' begin. j but this : Bear this significant to the country-maid 
 
 Cost. No egma, no riddle, no V envoy ; no salve Jaquenetta: there is remuneration; [Giving him 
 \ the mail, sir: O, sir, plantain, a plain p'--*~ 
 
 lin plantain ; 
 
 no Penvoy, no Penvoy, no salve, sir, but a plantain ! 
 *irm. By virtue, thou enforcest laughter ; thy 
 silly thought, my spleen ; the heaving of my lungs 
 provokes me to ridiculous smiling : 0, pardon me, 
 my stars ! Doth the inconsiderate take salve for 
 /'enroi/, and the word, Penvoy, for a salve? 
 
 Jtfoik. Do the wise think them other? is not 
 Penvoy a salve ? 
 *inn. No, page : it is an epilogue or discourse 
 
 to make plain 
 Some obscure precedence that hath lofore been 
 
 sain. 
 I will example it : 
 
 The fox, the ape, and the humble-bee, 
 Were still at odds, being but three. 
 There's the moral : Now the Penvoy. 
 
 Jloth. I will add the Penvoy: Say the moral 
 again. 
 Jnn. The fox, the ape, and the humble-bee, 
 
 Were still at odds, being but three : 
 Jloth. Until the goose came out of door, 
 
 And stay'd the odds by adding four. 
 Now will I begin your moral, and do you follow 
 with my Penvoy. 
 
 The fox, the ape. and the humble-bee, 
 Were still at odds, being but three : 
 Jinn. Until the iroose came out of door, 
 
 Staying the odds by adding four. 
 Jtioth. A g-ood rnoy. ending in the goose ; 
 Would you desire more / 
 
 Cost. "The boy hath sold him a bargain, a goose, 
 
 that's flat : 
 Sir, your pennyworth is good, an your goose be 
 
 fat- 
 To sell a bargain well, is as cunning as fast and 
 
 loose : 
 
 Let me see a fat Penvoy; ay, that's a fat iroose. 
 . rm. Come hither, come hither : How did this 
 
 argument betrin ? 
 .VotA. By saying that a Costard was broken in 
 
 a shin. 
 Then call'd you for the /' 'envoy. 
 
 Cost. True, and I for a plantain ; Thus came 
 
 your argument in ; 
 Then the boy's fat Penvoy, the goose that you 
 
 bought ; 
 And he ended the markel. 
 
 drm. But tell me; how was there a Costard 
 broken in a shin ? 
 Jtfoth. I will tell you sensibly. 
 Cost. Thou hast" no feeling of it, Moth ; I will 
 speak that P envoy : 
 
 I, Costard, running out, that was safely within, 
 Fell over the threshold, and broke my shin, 
 .flrm. We will talk no more of this matter. 
 Cosf . Till there be no more matter in the shin. 
 ,'lnn. Sirrah Costard, I will enfranchise thee 
 
 Cost. O, marry me to one Frances : I 
 some Penvoy, some poose, in this. 
 
 smell 
 
 Bv my sweet soul, I mean, setting thee at 
 liberty, enfreedoming thy person ; thou wert im- 
 mured, restrained, captivated, bound. 
 
 Cost. True, true ; and now you will be my pur- 
 gation, and let me loose. 
 
 Jinn. I give thee thy liberty, set thee from du- 
 
 (1) An old French term for concluding yerses, 
 which served either to convey the moral, or to ad- 
 dress the poem to some person. 
 
 (2) Delightful. C3) Reward, 
 
 money.] for the best ward of mine honour, is, re- 
 warding 1 my dependents. Moth, follow. [Exit. 
 
 Moth. Like the sequel, I. Signior Costard, 
 adieu. 
 
 Cost. Mv sweet ounce of man's flesh! myincony* 
 Jew ! [Exit Moth. 
 
 Now will I look to his remuneration. Remunera- 
 tion ! O, that's the Latin word for three farthings : 
 three farthings remuneration. Whafs the price 
 of this inkle J a penny : No, /'// give you a re- 
 muneration : why, it carries it. Remuneration ! 
 why, it is a fairer name than French crown. 1 will 
 never buy and sell out of this word. 
 
 Enter Biron. 
 
 Biron. 0, my good knave Costard ! exceedingly 
 well met. 
 
 Cost. Pray you, sir, how much carnation ribbon 
 may a man buy for a remuneration ? 
 
 Biron. What is a remuneration ? 
 
 Cost. Marry, sir, half-penny farthing. 
 
 Biron. O, wny then, three-fartlungs-worth of silk. 
 
 Cost. I thank your worship : God be with you 5 
 
 Biron. O, stay, slave ; I must employ thee : 
 As thou wilt win my favour, good my knave, 
 Do one thing for me that I shall entreat. 
 
 Cos/. When would you have it done, sir ? 
 
 Biron. O, this afternoon. 
 
 Cost. Well. I will do it, sir : Fare you well. 
 
 Biron. O, thou knowest not what it is. 
 
 Cost. I shall know, sir, when I have done it. 
 
 Bli-uii. Why, villain, thou must know first. 
 
 Cost. I will come to your worship to-morrow 
 lorning. 
 
 Biroh. It must be done this afternoon. Hark, 
 slave, it is but this ; 
 
 The princess comes to hunt here in the park, 
 And in her train there is a jrentle lady ; 
 When tongues speak sweetly, then they name her 
 
 name, 
 
 And Rosaline they call her : ask for her ; 
 And to her white hand see thou do commend 
 This seal'd-up counsel. There's thy guerdon ; 3 go. 
 [Gives him money. 
 
 Cost. Guerdon. O sweet cruerdon ! better than 
 remuneration ; eleven-pence farthing better : Most 
 sweet guerdon ! I will do it, sir, in print.* Guer- 
 don remuneration. [Exit. 
 
 Biron. O ! And I, forsooth, in love ! I, that 
 have been love's \vhip ; 
 A very beadle to a humourous sigh ; 
 A critic ; nay, a night-watch constable; 
 ! A domineering pedant o'er the boy, 
 Than whom no mortal so magnificent! 
 This whirn pled, 5 whining, purblind, wayward boy ; 
 This senior-junior, giant-dwarf, Dan Cupid ; 
 lloirent of love-rhymes, lord of folded arms, 
 The anointed sovereign of sighs and groans, 
 Liege of all loiterers and malcontents. 
 Dread prince of plackets, 6 king of codpieces, 
 Sole imperator ? and great general 
 Of trotting paritors, 7 O my little heart I- 
 And I to be a corporal of his field, 
 And wear his colours like a tumbler's hoop ! 
 What ? I ! 1 love ! I sue ! I seek a wife ! 
 A woman, that is like a German clock, 
 
 ( 4) With the utmost exactness. 
 
 (5) Hooded, veiled. (6) Petticoats. 
 
 (7) The officers of the spiritual courts who s*rv 
 
 citatious.
 
 1G6 
 
 LOVE'S LABOUR'S LOST. 
 
 Act IV, 
 
 Still a repairing ; eycr out of frame ; 
 
 And never going aright, being a watch, 
 
 But being watch'd that it may still go right ? 
 
 Nay, to be perjur'd, which is worst of all ; 
 
 And, among three, to love the worst of all ; 
 
 A whitely wanton with a velvet brow, 
 
 With two pitch balls stuck in her face for eyes ; 
 
 Ay, and, by heaven, one that will do the deed, 
 
 Though Argus were her eunuch and her juara : 
 
 And I to sigh for her ! to watch for her ! 
 
 To pray for her ! Go to ; it is a plague 
 
 That Cupid will impose for my neglect 
 
 Of his almighty dreadful little" might. 
 
 Well, I wilf love, write, sigh, pray, sue, and groan ; 
 
 Some men must love my lad v. end some Joan. 
 
 ACT IV. 
 
 SCENE I.*1nother part of the same. Enter 
 the Princess, Rosaline, Maria, Katharine, Bovet, 
 
 Lords, attendants, and a Forester. *T'' . l am b , und to f nc 
 
 This letter is mistook, it importcta none here ; 
 Prin. Was that the king, that spurr'd his horse It is writ to Jaquenctta. 
 
 so hard 
 Against the steep uprising of the hill ? 
 
 Enter Costard. 
 
 Prin. Here comes a member of the common- 
 wealth. 
 
 Cost. God dig-you-den 1 all! Pray you, which is 
 the head lady ? 
 
 Prin. Thou shalt know her, fellow, by the rest 
 that have no heads. 
 
 Cost. Which is the greatest ladv, the highest ? 
 
 Prin. The thickest, and the tallest. 
 
 Cost. The thickest, and the tallest ! it is so ; truth 
 
 is truth. 
 
 An your waist, mistress, were as slender as my wit, 
 One of these maids' girdles for your waist should 
 
 befit. 
 Are not you the chief woman? you are the thickest 
 
 here. 
 
 Prin. What's vour will, sir? wh?.l's your will? 
 Cost. I have a letter from mousieur Biron, to one 
 
 lady Rosaline. 
 Prin. O, thy letter, thy letter ; he's a good friend 
 
 of mfne : 
 
 Stand aside, good bearer. Bcyct, you can carve ; 
 Break up this capon.* 
 
 Prin. We will read it, I swear: 
 
 Break the neck of the wax, and every one gh e ear. 
 
 I know not ; but, I think, it was not he. j Boyet. [Reads.] By heaven, thai thou art fair, 
 Prin. Whoe'er he was, he show'd a mounting is most infallible ; trite, that thou art beauteous ; 
 
 truth itself, that thou art lovely : Jlore fainr than 
 fair, beautiful than beauteo\is ; truer than truth 
 itself, base commiseration on thy heroical vassal ! 
 The magnanimous and most illustrate 3 king Co- 
 
 mind. 
 
 Well, lords, to-day we shall have our despatch ; 
 On Saturday we will return to France. 
 Then, forester, my friend, where is the bush, 
 
 That we must stand and play the murderer in? Iphetua set eye upon the pernicious and inditbitate 
 For. Here by, upon the edge of yonder coppice; beggar Zenelopnon ; and he it was that might 
 
 A stand, where you may mak'e the fairest shoot. 
 
 Prin. I thank my beaut}', I am fair that shoot, 
 And thereupon thou speak'st, the fairest shoot. 
 
 Far. Pardon me, madam, for I meant not so. 
 
 Prin. What, what ? first praise me, and again 
 
 say. no ? 
 short-liv'd pride ! Not fair ? alack for wo ! 
 
 For. Yea, madam, fair. 
 
 Prin. Nay, never paint me now ; 
 
 Where fair is not, praise cannot mend the brow. 
 Here, good my glass, take this for telling true ; 
 
 [Giving him money. 
 
 rightly say, veni, vidi, vici ; which to anatoinize in 
 the vidgar (0 base and obscure vulgar !) videlicet, 
 he came, saic, and overcame : he came, one ; saw, 
 two ; overcame, three. Who came 1 the king ; 
 Why did he come ? to see ; Why did he see 1 to 
 overcome : To whom came he? to the beggar; 
 What saio he? the beggar; Who overcame hr.l 
 the beggar : The conclusion is victory ; On whose 
 side ? the king's : the captive is enriched ; On ichose 
 side? the beggar's; The catastrophe is a r.upiial; 
 On lohose side ? the king's no, on both in one, or 
 
 one in both. I am the kin;; ; for so stands the com- 
 
 ^ / ./ 
 
 Fair payment for foul words is more than due. Inamon: thou the beggar; for so witnesseth tin, 
 For. "Nothing but fair is that which you inherit, [lowliness. Shall I command thy love ? I may . 
 
 Prin. See, see, my beauty will be sav'd by merit. 
 O heresy in fair, fit for these days ! 
 A giving hand, though foul, shall have fair praise. 
 But come, the bow : Now mercy poes to kill, 
 A shooting well is then accounted ill. 
 Thus will I save mv credit in the shoot : 
 
 Not wounding, pity would not lot me do't. ; 
 If wounding;, then it was to show my skill, 
 That more for praise, than purpose, meant to kill. 
 
 Shall I enforce thy love ? I could: Shall I entreat 
 thy love ? I will. What shalt thou exchange for 
 rags? robes; For tittles, titles: For thiisclf, me. 
 Tnus, expecting thy reply, I profane my dps on thy 
 foot, my eyes on thy picture, and my heart on thy 
 every part. 
 
 Thine, in the deareat design of industry, 
 Don Adriano de Armado. 
 
 Thus dost thou hear the Nemean lion roar 
 
 'Gainst thee, thou lamb, that standest as his prey ; 
 I Submissive fall his princely feet before, 
 
 And, out of question, so it is sometimes ; 
 
 Glory grows guilty of detested crimes ; 
 
 Wben, for fame's sake, for praise, an outward part, i And he from fora ^ e iin nc ij ne to play : 
 
 We bend to that the working of the heart : But jf thou strive, pW soul, what art tllou then ? 
 
 As I, for praise alone, now seek to spill 
 
 The poor deer's blood, that my heart means no ill. 
 
 Boyet. Do not curst wives hold that self-sove- 
 reignty 
 
 Only for praise' sake, when they strive to be 
 Lords o'er their lords ? 
 
 Prin. Only for praise : and praise we may afford 
 To any lady that subdues a lord. 
 
 H) God give you good even. 
 
 (2) Open thisletter. (3) Illustrious. 
 
 Food for his rage, repasture for his den. 
 Prin. What plume of feathers is he, that indited 
 
 this letter ? 
 What vane ? what weathercock ? did you ever hear 
 
 better? 
 Boyet. I am much deceived,^ but I remember 
 
 the style. 
 
 Prin. Else your memory is bad, going o'er it 
 erewlale.* 
 
 (4) Just now.
 
 Scene //. 
 
 LOVE'S LABOUR'S LOST. 
 
 167 
 
 Prfn. 
 
 Who gave thee this letter ? 
 Cost. 
 
 Boyet. Tlr Armado is a Spaniard, that keeps 
 
 here ;: court ; 
 
 A phantasm, a Monarcho, and one that makes sport 
 To the prince, and his book-mates. 
 
 Thou, fellow, a word : 
 
 I told you ; my lord. 
 Prin. To whom should'st thou give it ? 
 Cojf. From my lord to my lady. 
 
 Prin. From which lord, to which lady ? 
 Cost. From my lord Biron, a good master of mine, 
 To a lady of Friince, that he call'd Rosaline. 
 Prin. "Thou hast mistaken his letter. Come, 
 
 lords, away. 
 
 Here, sweet, put up this; 'twill be thine another 
 dav. [Exit Princess and Tram. 
 
 Who is the suitor 1 who is the suitor ? 
 
 Shall I teach you to know ? 
 
 When it comes so smoothly off, so obscenely, as it 
 
 were, so fit. 
 
 Armatho o' the one side, O, a most dainty man ! 
 To see him walk before a lady, and to bear ner fan ! 
 To see him kiss his hand ! and how most sweetly 
 
 a' will swear ! 
 
 And his page p' t'other side, that handful of wit t 
 Ah, heavens, it is a most pathetical nit ! 
 
 Rot. 
 
 Boytt. Av, rny continent of beauty. 
 Res. Why, she that bears the bow. 
 
 Finely put off'! 
 
 Sola, sola 1 
 
 [Shouting vnthin. 
 [Exit Costard, running. 
 
 SCENE II. The same. Enter Holoferncs, Sir 
 Nathaniel, and DulL 
 
 JCalh. Very reverent sport, truly ; and done in 
 the testimony of a good conscience. 
 
 Hoi. The deer was, as you know, in songitis, 
 blood ; ripe as a pome water, 1 who now hangetU 
 like a jewel in the car of caio, the sky, the welkin, 
 the heaven; and anon falleth like a crab, on the 
 rat--- of terra, the soil, the land, the enrth. 
 
 ^'ath. Truly, master Holofeim-s, the epithets 
 Boyet. My lady goes to kill horns ; but, if tboui are sweetly varied, like a scholar at the least: But, 
 
 marry, sir, I assure ye, it was a buck of the lirst head. 
 
 Hanrr me. by the neck, if horns that year miscarry. ] Hoi. Sir Nathaniel, hcnid credo. 
 Finely put on ! JJidl. 'Twas not a hai'.d credo, 'twns a pricket. 
 
 Hoi. Most barbarous intimation ! vet a kind of 
 
 insinuation, as it were, in via, in way, of explica- 
 
 ROJ. Well then, I am the shooter. 
 
 Boytl. And who i* your deer? 
 
 livs. If we choose by the horns, yourself: coinejtion; facere, as it were, replication, or, rather, 
 
 near. '.ostentvre, to show, as it were, his inclination, after 
 
 Finely put on, indeed! !his undressed, unpolished, uneducated, unpruned, 
 
 You still wrangle with her, Eoyet, and she un< rained, or rather unlettered, orrathcrest^uncon 
 
 * I 1 / 
 
 strikes at the brow. 
 Boytt. But she herself is hit lower : Have I hit 
 
 her now ? 
 
 Ros. Shall I come upon thee with nn old saying, 
 that was a man when king Pepin of France was a 
 little boy, as touching the hit it ? 
 
 Boytt. So I may answer thee with one as old, 
 that was a woman when queen Guinever of Britain 
 was a little wench, as touching the hit it. 
 Ros. Tkou canst not hit it, hit it, hit it. [Singing. 
 
 Thou canst not hit it, my good man. 
 Boyet .tfi I cannot, cannot, cannot, 
 sin I cannot, another can. 
 
 [Exeunt Ros. and Kath. 
 
 Cost. By my troth, most pleasant ! how both did 
 
 fit it! 
 Jdar. A mark marvellous well shot; for they 
 
 both did hit it. 
 Beget. A mark ! O, mark but that mark ; A 
 
 mark, says my lady ! 
 Let the mark have a prick in't, to mete at, if it 
 
 may be. 
 .Var. Wide o' the bow hand ! I'faith, your hand 
 
 is out. 
 Cost. Indeed, a' must shoot nearer, or he'll ne'er 
 
 hit the clout. 
 Boyet. An if my hand be out, then, belike your 
 
 hand is in. 
 Cost. Then will she get the upshot by cleaving 
 
 the pin. 
 .Mar. Con-.e, come, you talk greasily, your lips 
 
 prow foul. 
 Cost. She's too hard for you at pricks, sir ; chal- 
 
 Hicce her to bowl. 
 Bo'jd. I fear too much rubbinsr ; Good nicht, my 
 
 good owl. [EareicirBoyct and Maria. 
 Cn*t. By my soul, a swain! a most simple clo wn ! 
 
 firmed fashion to insert again my hand credo for 
 a deer. 
 
 Dull. I said, the deer was not a haud credo; 
 'twas a pricket. 
 
 Hoi. Twice sod simplicity, bis ccctus ! thou 
 monster itrnorance, how deformed dost thou look ! 
 Naih. Sir, he hath never fed of the dainties that 
 are bred in a book ; he hath not eat paper as it 
 were ; he hath not drunk ink : his intellect is not 
 replenished ; he is only an animal, only sensible in 
 he duller parts ; 
 And such barren plants are set before as, that we 
 
 thankful should be 
 [WTiich we of taste and feeling are) for those parts 
 
 that do fructify in us more than he. 
 ?or as it would ill become me to be vain, indiscreet, 
 
 or a fool, 
 So, were there a patch 2 set on learning, to see him 
 
 in a school : 
 
 Bat, o-.nne bene, say I ; being of an old father's mind, 
 JIar.y can brook the weather, that love not the 
 
 wind. 
 Dull. You two are book-men : Can you tell by 
 
 your wit, 
 What was a month old at Cain's birth, that's not 
 
 five weeks old as yet ' 
 Hoi. Dictynna, good man Dull ; Dictynna, good 
 
 man Dull. 
 
 Dull. What is Dictynna? 
 J>~ath. A title to Phcebe, to Luna, to the moon. 
 Hoi. The moon was a month old, when Adam 
 
 was no more ; 
 
 And raught 5 not to five wcets, when he came to five 
 " 
 
 The allusion holds in the exchange. 
 
 Dull. 'Tis true indeed ; the collusion holds in the 
 exchange. 
 
 Hoi. God comfort thy capacity ! I sny, the allu- 
 
 Lord, lord ! howthe ladies and I have nut him down ! sion holds in the exchange. 
 4)'mv troth, most sweet jests ! most incony vulgar Dull. And I say the pollution holds in the ex- 
 wit i change; for the moon is never but a month old: 
 
 (1) A species of apple. (2) A low fellow. ' (3) Reached.
 
 168 
 
 LOVE'S LABOUR'S LOST. 
 
 jtct ir. 
 
 and T say beside, that 'twas a pricket that the prhv 
 cess kill'd. 
 
 Hoi. Sir Nathaniel, will you hear an extemporal 
 epitaph on the death of the deer ? and, to humour 
 the ignorant, I have call'd the deer the princess 
 kill'd, a pricket. 
 
 Nath. Perge, good master Holofernes, perge ; 
 BO it shall please you to abrogate scurrility. 
 
 Hoi. I will something affect the letter ; for it 
 argues facility. 
 
 The praiseful princess pierced and prick'd a pretty 
 pleasing pricket; 
 
 Some say, a sore ; biit not a sore, till now made 
 
 sore with shooting. 
 
 The dogs did yell ; put L to sore, then sard jumps 
 from thicket; 
 
 Or pricket, sore, or else sorel ; the people fall a 
 
 hooting. 
 If sore be sore, then L to sore makes fifty sores ; 
 
 sore L ! 
 
 Of one sore I a hundred make, by adding but 
 one more L. 
 
 Nath. A rare talent ! 
 
 DM. If a talent be a claw, look how he claws 
 him with a talent. 
 
 Hoi. This is a gift that I have, simple, simple ; 
 a foolish extravagant spirit, full of forms, figures, 
 , shapes, objects, ideas, apprehensions, motions 
 revolutions : these are begot in the ventricle o 
 memory, nourished in the womb of pia mater ; and 
 deilver'd upon the mellowing of occasion : But the 
 gift is good in those in whom it is acute, and I am 
 thankful for it. 
 
 Nath. Sir, I praise the Lord for you ; and so 
 may my parishioners ; for their sons are well tutor'd 
 by you, and their daughters profit very greatly un- 
 der you : you are a good member of the common- 
 wealth. 
 
 Hoi. Jfleherclt, if their sons be ingenious, they 
 hall want no instruction : if their daughters be 
 capable, I will put it to them : But, vir sapit, qui 
 pauca loquitur : a soul feminine saluteth us. 
 
 Enter Jaquenetta and Costard. 
 
 Jaq. God give you good morrow, master person. 
 
 Hoi. Master parson, qifasi pers-on. And if one 
 should be pierced, which is the one ? 
 
 Cost. Marry, master schoolmaster, he that is 
 likest to a hogshead. 
 
 Hoi. Of piercing a hogshead ! a good lustre oL 
 conceit in a turf of earth ; fire enough for a flint, 
 pearl enough for a swine : 'tis pretty ; it is well. 
 
 Jan. Good master parson, be so good as read me 
 this letter ; il was given me by Costard, and sent 
 me from Don Armaiho : I beseech you, read it. 
 
 Hoi. Fauste, precor gelida quando pecus omne 
 
 sub umbra. 
 
 Ruminat, and so forth. Ah, good old Mantuan ! 
 I may speak of thec as the traveller doth of Venice : 
 
 Vinegia, Vinegia, 
 
 Chi non le vede, ei non it pregia. 
 Old Mantuan ! old Mantuan ! Who understandeth 
 thee not, loves thee not. Ut, re, sol, la, mi, fa. 
 Under pardon, sir, what are the contents? or, rather, 
 as Horace says in his What, my soul, verses ? 
 
 Nath. Ay, sir, and very learned. 
 
 Hoi. Let me hear a staff, a stanza, a verse ; Lege, 
 domine. 
 
 Nalh. If love make me forsworn, how shall I 
 swear to love ? 
 
 Ah, never faith could hold, if not to beauty 
 vowed ! 
 
 (1) Horse adorned with ribbands. 
 
 of th 
 
 Though to myself forsworn, to thee I'll faithful 
 
 prove ; 
 Those thoughts to me were oaks, .to thee like 
 
 osiers bowed. 
 Study his bias leaves, and makes his book thine 
 
 eyes; 
 Where all those pleasures live, that art would 
 
 comprehend : 
 
 If knowledge be the mark, to know thee shall suf- 
 fice; 
 Well learned is that tongue, that well can thec 
 
 commend : 
 
 All ignorant that soul, that sees thee without won- 
 der ; 
 (Which is to me some praise, that I thy parts 
 
 admire ;) 
 Thy eye Jove's lightning bears, thy voice his 
 
 dreadful tnunder, 
 
 Which, not to anger bent, is music, and sweet fire. 
 Celestial, as thou art, oh pardon, love, this wrong, 
 That sings heaven's praise with such an earthly 
 
 tongue ! 
 
 Hoi. You find not the apostrophes, and so miss 
 the accent : let me supervise the canzonet. Here 
 are only numbers ratified ; but, for the elegancy, 
 facility, and golden cadence of poesy, caret. Ovi- 
 dius Naso was the man : and why, indeed, Naso ; 
 but for smelling out the odoriferous flowers of fancy, 
 the jerks of invention? Imitari, is nothing: so doth 
 the hound his master, the ape his keeper, the tired 
 horse 1 his rider. But damosella virgin, was this 
 directed to you ? 
 
 Jaq. Ay, sir, from one monsieur Biron, one of 
 the strange queen's lords. 
 
 Hoi. I will overglance the superscript. To the 
 snow-white hand of the most beauteous Lady Rosa- 
 line. I will look again on the intellect of the letter, 
 for the nomination of the party writing to the person 
 written unto : 
 Your ladyship's in all desired employment, 
 
 BIRON. 
 
 Sir Nathaniel, this Biron is one of the votaries with 
 the king ; and here he hath framed a letter to a se- 
 quent of the stranger queen's, which, accidentally, 
 or by the way of progression, hath miscarried. 
 Trip and go, my sweet 5 deliver this paper into the 
 royal hand of the king: it may concern much : Stay 
 not thy compliment ; I forgive thy duty ; adieu ! 
 Jaq. Good Costard, go with me. Sir, God save 
 ur life ! 
 Cost. Have with thec, my trirl. 
 
 [Exeunt Cost, and Jaq. 
 Nath. Sir, you have done this in the fear of God, 
 
 very religiously ; and, as a certain father saith 
 
 Ho',. Sir, tell not me of the father, 1 do fear 
 colourable colours. But to return to the verses 
 Did they please you, sir Nathaniel ? 
 Nath. Marvellous well for the pen. 
 Hoi. I do dine to-day at the father's of a certain 
 pupil of mine ; where if, before repast, it shall 
 please you to gratify the table with a grace. I will 
 on my privilege I have with the parents of the fore- 
 said child or pupil, undertake your ben venitto ; 
 where I will prove those verses to be very unlearn- 
 ed, neither savouring of poetry, wit, nor invention : 
 I beseech your society. 
 
 Natli. And thank you too: for society (saith the 
 text) is the happiness of life. 
 
 Hoi. And certes,* the text most infallibly con- 
 cludes it. Sir, [To Dull.] I do invite you too; you 
 shall not say me, nay : pauca verba. Away ; the 
 gentles are at their game, and we will to our 
 recreation. [Exeunt. 
 
 (2) In truth. 
 
 f y
 
 Scene ///. 
 
 LOVE'S LABOUR'S LOST. 
 
 SCENE HI Another part of the samt. Enter These numbers will I tear, and write in prose. 
 
 Biron, with a paper. Eiron. [Aside.] O, rhymes are guards on wanton 
 
 _. Cupid's hose: 
 
 JJtron. The king he is hunting the deer ; I amlpjsfigure not \^ s i op< 
 
 coursing myself: they have pitch'd a toil; I am 
 
 toiling; in a pitch ; pitch that defiles ; defile! a foul 
 
 word. \Vell, set thee down, sorrow ! for so, they >jj not the heavenly rhetoric of thine eye 
 
 say^the fool said, and^ say I. and I the fool. ('Gainst wlwm the world cannot liolda, 
 
 This same snail go. 
 
 [He reads the sonnet. 
 
 do love : and it hath taught me to rhyme, and to 
 
 be melancholy ; and here is part of my rhyme, and 
 
 here my melancholy. Well, she hath one o my Exhal'st this vapour vow; in thee it is: 
 
 sonnets already ; the clown bore it, the fool sent it, jj broken then it ^ no j^ O j mint . 
 
 and the lady hath it : sweet clown, sweeter fool, jr l y rM broke }y hul foj j, ^ so vise 
 
 sweetest lady ! By the world, I would not care a] -f i^g an oath to win a paradise 1 
 
 ipour is : 
 
 Then tuoit, fair sun, which on my earth doth 
 shine, 
 
 pin if the other three were in : Here comes one 
 with a paper ; God give him grace to groan ! 
 
 [Gels up into a tree. 
 
 Enter the King, with a paper. 
 
 King. Ah me ! 
 
 Biron. [..hide.] Shot, by heaven ! Proceed, 
 sweet Cupid ; thou hast thump' d him with thy 
 bird-bolt under the left pap : I'iaith secrets. 
 
 King. [Reads.] So swett a kiss the golden sun 
 gives not 
 
 To those fresh morning drops upon the rose, j^ e a demi-sod here sit I in the sky, 
 ,3s thy eye-beams, when their fresh rays hare smote A nd wretched fools' secrets heedfully o'er- 
 
 Tlie night of dew that on my cheeks down flows 
 
 Biron. [Aside.] This is the liver vein, which 
 
 makes flesh a deity ; 
 
 A green goose a goddess : pure, pure idolatry. 
 God amend us, God amend ! we are much out o 5 
 
 the way. 
 
 Enter Durnain, with a paper. 
 
 Long. By whom shall I send this ? Company ! 
 
 stay. [Stepping aside. 
 
 Biron. [Aside.] All hid, all hid, an old infant 
 
 play : 
 
 Nor shines the silver moon one half so bright 
 
 Through the transparent bosom, of the deep, 
 As doth thy face through tears of mine give light; 
 
 Thou shm'st in every tear that I do weep : 
 No drop but as a coach doth carry thee, 
 
 So ridest tlwu triumphing in 7jr too : 
 h but behold the tears that swell in me, 
 
 And they thy glory through thy grief will show : 
 But do not love thyself; then thou will keep 
 .Vi/ tears for glasses, and still make me weep. 
 queen of queens, how far dost thou excel .' 
 Ao thouglU can think, nor tongue of mortal tell. 
 How shall she know my grief? I'll drop the paper : 
 Sweet leaves, shade folly. Who is he comes here } 
 
 [Steps aside. 
 
 Enter Longaville, with a paper. 
 
 Whit, Longaville ! and reading ! listen, ear. 
 
 Biron. Now, in thy likeness, one more fool, 
 appear ! [Aside. 
 
 Lone;. Ah me ! I am forsworn. 
 
 Biron. Why, he comes in like a perjure, wear- 
 ing papers. [Aside. 
 
 King. In love, I hope ; Sweet fellowship in 
 shame ! [Aside. 
 
 Biron. One drunkard loves another of the name ? 
 
 [Aside. 
 
 /xm*. Am I the first that have been perjur'd so ? 
 Biron. [Aside.] I could put thee in comfort; not 
 
 by two, that I know : 
 Thou mak'st the triumviry, the corner-cap of 
 
 society, 
 
 The shape of love's Tyburn that hangs up sim- 
 plicity. 
 Long. I fear these stubborn lines lack p<?wer to 
 
 move : 
 sweet Maria, empress of my love ! 
 
 (1) Outstripped, surpassed. 
 
 ' More sacks to the mill! heavens, I "have my wish : 
 Dumain transformed : four woodcocks in a dish ! 
 Dum. O most divine Kate ! 
 Biron. O most profane coxcomb ! [Aside. 
 Dum. By heaven, the wonder of a mortal eye ! 
 Biron. By earth, she is but corporal ; there yon 
 
 lie. [Aside. 
 
 Dum. Her amber hairs for foul hare amber 
 
 coted. ' 
 
 Biran. An amber-colour'd raven was well noted. 
 
 [Aside. 
 
 Dum. As upright as the cedar. 
 Jiiron. Stoop, I say ; 
 
 Her shoulder is with child. [Aside. 
 
 Dum. As fair as day. 
 
 Uiron. Ay, as some days ; but then no sun must 
 
 shine. [Aside. 
 
 Dum. O that I had my wish ! 
 I-ong. And I had mine ! [Aside. 
 
 King. And I mine too, good Lord ! [Jttide. 
 Biron. Amen, so I had mine : Is not that a pood 
 
 word ? [Aside. 
 
 Dum. I would forget her ; but a fever she 
 Reigns in my blood, and will remember'd be. 
 Biron. A fever in your blood, why, then inci- 
 
 Would let her out in saucers ; Sweet misprision f 
 
 [Aside. 
 
 Dum. Once more I'll read the ode that I have 
 writ. 
 
 Biron. Once more I'll mark how love can vary 
 wit. [Aside. 
 
 Dum. On a day (alack the day .') 
 
 Lore, whose month is ever 3Jay t 
 Spied a blossom, passing fair, 
 Playing in the wanton air : 
 Through the velvet leaves the wind, 
 All unseen, 'gan passage find ; 
 That the lover, sick to death, 
 WisK'd himself the /Haven't brtoth, 
 
 y
 
 170 
 
 LOVE'S LABOUR'S LOST. 
 
 Sir, quoth he, thy cheeks may blow ; 
 
 .fltr, would I might triumph so ! 
 
 But alack, my hand is sworn, 
 
 AVer to pluck theefrom thy thorn : 
 
 Vmc, alack, for youth unmeet; 
 
 Youth so apt to pluck a sweet. 
 
 Do not call it sin in me, 
 
 That I am forsworn for thee : 
 
 Thou for whom even Jove would swear, 
 
 Juno out an Ethiop were; 
 
 And deny himself for Jove, v 
 
 Turning mortal for thy love. 
 This will I send ; and something else more plain, 
 That shall express my true love's fasting pain. 
 O t would the King, Biron, and Longaville, 
 \V ere lovers too ! Ill, to example ill, 
 Would from my forehead wine a perjur'd note ; 
 For none offend, where all alike do dote. 
 Long. Dumaia, [advancing.] thy love is far from 
 
 charity, 
 
 That in love's grief tiesir'st society : 
 You may look pale, but I should blush, I know, 
 To be o'erhcard, and taken napping so. 
 
 King. Come, sir, [advancing.] you blush; as 
 
 his your vv.sc, is such ; 
 
 You chide at him, offending' twice as much : 
 You do not love Maria ; Longaville 
 Did never sonnet for her sake compile ; 
 Nor never lay his wreathed arms athwart 
 His loving 1 bosom, to keep down his heart. 
 I have been closely shrouded in this busk, 
 And mark'd you both, and for you both did blush. 
 I heard vour guilty rhymes, observ'd your fashion ; 
 Saw signs reeK from you, noted well your passion : 
 Ah me ! says one ; O Jove ! the other cries ; 
 One, her hairs were gold, crystal the other's eyes : 
 You would for paradise break faith and troth ; 
 
 [To Long. 
 And Jove, for your love, would infringe an oath. 
 
 [To Dumain. 
 
 What will Biron say, when that he shall hear 
 A faith infring'd, which such a zeal did swear ? 
 How will he scorn ? how will he spend his wit ? 
 How will he triumph, leap, and laugh at it? 
 For all the wealth that ever I did see, 
 I would not have him know so much by me. 
 
 Biron. Now step I forth to whip hypocrisy. 
 Ah, good my liege, I pray thee pardon me : 
 
 [Descends from the tree. 
 
 Good heart, what grace hast thon, thus to reprove 
 These worms for loving, that art most in love ? 
 Your eves do make no coaches ; in your tears, 
 There is no certain princess that appears : 
 You'll not be perjur'd, 'tis a hateful thing; 
 Tush, none but minstrels like of sonneting-. 
 But are you not as'.iam'd ? nay, are you not, 
 All three of you, to be thus much .o'ershot ? 
 You found his mote ; the king your mote did see ; 
 But I a beam do find in each of three, 
 O, what a scene of foolery I have seen, 
 Of sighs, of groans, of sorrow, and of teen I 1 
 O me, with what strict patience have I sat, 
 To see a kin? transformed to a gnat ! 
 To see great'Hercules whipping a gig-g, 
 And profound Solomon to tune a jizg, 
 And Nestor play at push-pin with the boys, 
 And critic 3 Timon laugh at idle toys ! 
 Where lies thy grief, O tell me, good Dumain ? 
 And, gentle Longavillc, where lies thy pain ? 
 And where my liege's ? all about the breast : 
 A caudle, ho ! 
 King. Too bitter is thy jest. 
 
 (1) Grief. (2) Cynic. (3) In trimming myself. 
 
 Are we betray'd thus to thy over- view 7 
 
 Biron. Not you by me, but I betray'd to you ; 
 I, that am honest ; I, that hold it sin 
 To break the vow I am engaged in ; 
 I am betrayed, by keeping company 
 With moon-like men, of strange inconstancy. 
 When shall you see me write a thing in rhyme ? 
 Or groan for Joan ? or spend a minute's time 
 In pruning 3 me ? When shall you hear that I 
 Will praise a hand, a foot, a face, an eye, 
 A gait, a state, a brow, a breast, a waist, 
 A leg, a limb ? 
 
 King. Soft ; Whither awav so fast ? 
 
 A true man, or a thief, that gallops so ^ 
 Biro/i. I post from love ; good lover, let me go. 
 
 Enter Jaquenetta and Costard. 
 Jaq. God bless the king ! 
 King. What present hast thou there ? 
 
 Cost. Some certain treason. 
 King. What makes treason here ? 
 
 Cost. Nay, it makes nothing, sir. 
 King. If it liiar nothing neither, 
 
 The treason, and you, go in peace away together. 
 Jaq. I beseech your grace, let this letter be read ; 
 Our parson misdoubts it ; 'twas treason, he said. 
 
 King. Biron. read it over. [Giving him the Ictltr. 
 ^ here hadst thou it ? 
 Jnq. Of Costard. 
 Kin*. Where hadst thou it ? 
 Cost. Of Dun Adramadio, Dun Adramadio. 
 King. How now ! what is in you ? why dost 
 
 thou tear it ? 
 Biron. A toy, my liege, a toy ; your grace needs 
 
 not fear it. 
 Long. It did move him to passion, and therefore 
 
 let's hear it. 
 
 Dum. It is Biron's writing, and here is his name. 
 [Picks up the pieces. 
 
 Biron. Ah, you whoreson loggerhead, [To Cos. 
 , tard.j you were born to do me shame. 
 Guilty, my lord, guilty ; I confess, I confess. 
 King. What? 
 Biron. That you three fools lack'd me fool to 
 
 make up the mess : 
 He, he, and you, mv liege, and I, 
 Are pick-purses in fove, and we deserve to die. 
 0, dismiss this audience, and I shall tell you more. 
 Dum. Now the number is even. 
 Biron. True, true; we are four: 
 
 Will these turtles be gone ? 
 King. Hence, sirs, away. 
 
 Cost. Walk aside the true folk, and let the trai- 
 tors stay. [Exeunt Cost, and Jaq. 
 Biron. Sweet lords, sweet lovers, O let us em- 
 brace ! 
 
 As true we are, as flesh and blood can be : 
 The sea will ebb and flow, heaven show his face ; 
 
 Young blood will not obey an old decree : 
 We cannot cross the cause why we were born ; 
 Therefore, of all hands must we be forsworn. 
 King. What, did these rent lines show some 
 
 love of thine ? 
 Biron. Did thev, quoth you? WTio sees the 
 
 heavenly Rosaline, , 
 
 That, like a rude and savage man of Inde, 
 
 At the first opening of the gorgeous east, 
 Bows not his vassal head ; and, strucken blind, 
 
 Kisses the base ground with obedient breast ? 
 What peremptory eagle-sighted eye 
 
 Dares look upon the heaven of her brow, 
 That is not blinded by her majesty? 
 King. What zeal, what fury hath inspir'd thee 
 now?
 
 SCIM III, 
 
 LOVE'S LABOUR'S LOST. 
 
 m 
 
 My lore, her mistress, is a gracious moon ; 
 
 She, an attending star, scarce seen a hsrht. 
 Biron. Mv eyes are then no eyes, nor I Bir6n : 
 
 0, but for my love, dav would turn to night! 
 Of all complexions the cull'd sovereignty 
 
 Do meet, as at a fair, in her fair cheek ; 
 Where several wortlues make one dignitv ; 
 
 TTI il At A _*. y*-_ 
 
 ! Long. O, some authority how to proceed ; 
 ;Some tricks, some quillets, 1 how to cheat the devil. 
 
 Dum. Some salve for perjury. 
 
 Biron. O, 'tis more than need ! 
 
 j Have at you then, affection's men at arms : 
 (Consider, what you first did swear unto ; 
 To fast, to study, and to see no woman ; 
 
 Where nothing wants, that want itself doth'Flat treason 'gainst the kingly state of youth. 
 
 seek. Say, can you last ? your stomachs are too young ; 
 
 Lend me the flourish of all gentle tongues, i And abstinence engenders maladies. 
 
 Fie, painted rhetoric ! 0, she needs it not : } And where that you have-vow'd to study, lords, 
 To things of sale a seller's praise belongs ; jln that each of you hath forsworn his book : 
 
 She passes praise ; then praise too short doth 'Can you still dream, and pore, and thereon look? 
 
 blot. 
 A wither'd hermit, five-score winters worn, 
 
 Might shake off fitly, looking in her eye: 
 Beauty doth varnish age, as if new-horn ? 
 
 And gives the crutch the cradle's infancy. 
 O, 'tis tire sun, tliat maketh all things shine ! 
 King. By heaven, thy love is black as ebony. 
 Birun. Is ebony like her? O wood divine ! 
 
 A wife of such wood were felicity. 
 O, who can give an oath ? where is a hook ? 
 
 That I may swear, beauty doth beauty lack, 
 If that she learn not of her eye to look : 
 
 No fact; is fair, that is not full so black. 
 King. O paradox ! Black is the badge of hell, 
 The hue of dungeons, and the scowl of night; 
 
 (For when would you, my lord, or you, or you, 
 Have found the ground of study's excellence, 
 Without the beauty of a woman's face ? 
 From women's eyes this doctrine I derive : 
 They are the ground, the books, the academes, 
 From whence doth spring the true Promethean fire. 
 Why, universal plodding prisons up 
 The nimble spirits in the arterie_s ; 
 As motion, and long-during action, tirei 
 'The sinewy vigour of the traveller. 
 Now. for not looking on a woman's face, 
 You have in that forsworn the use of eyes ; 
 And study too, the causer of your vow: 
 For where is any author in the world, 
 Teaches such beauty as a woman's eye ? 
 Learning is but an adjunct to ourself. 
 
 And beautv's crest becomes the heavens well. _, v 
 
 Biron. Devils soonest tempt, resembling spiritsjAnd where we are, our learning likewise is. 
 of light. | Then, when ourselves we see in tadies' eyes, 
 
 0, if in black rny lady's brows be deckt ? 
 
 It mourns, that painting, and usurping hair, 
 Should ravish doters with a false aspe'ct : 
 
 And therefore is she born to make black fair. 
 Her favour turns the fashion of the days ; 
 
 For native blood is counted painting now ; 
 And therefore red, that would avoid dispraise, 
 
 Paints itself black, to imitate her brow. 
 
 Dum. To look like her, are chimney-sweepers 
 
 black. 
 Long. And, since her time, are colliers counted 
 
 bright. 
 King. And Ethiops of their sweet complexion 
 
 crack. 
 Dum. Dark needs no candles now, for dark is 
 
 light. 
 
 Biron. Your mistresses dare never come in rain, 
 
 For fear their colours should be wash'd away. 
 
 King. 'Twere good, yours did ; for, sir, to tell 
 
 vou plain, 
 
 I'll find a fairer face not wash'd to-day. 
 Biron. I'll prove her fair, or talk till dooms-day 
 
 Do we not likewise see our learning there ? 
 O, we have made a vow to study, lords ; 
 And in that vow we have forsworn our books ; 
 For when would you, my liege, or you, or you, 
 In leaden contemplation, have found out 
 Such fiery numbers, as the prompting eyes 
 Of beauteous tutors have enrich'd you with? 
 j Other slow arts entirely keep the brain ; 
 
 And therefore finding barren practisers, 
 Scarce show a harvest of their heavy toil : 
 But love, first learned in a lady's eyes, 
 Lives not alone immured in the brain ; 
 But with the motion of all elements, 
 Courses as swift as thought in every power , 
 And gives to every power a double power, 
 Above their functions and their offices. 
 It adds a precious seeing to the eye j 
 A lover's eyes will gaze an eagle blind ; 
 A lover's ear will hear the lowest sound, 
 When the suspicions head of theft is stopp'd ; 
 Love's feeling is more soft, and sensible, 
 Than are the tender horns of cockled snails ; 
 
 here. Love's tongue proves dainty Bacchus gross in taste: 
 
 King. No devil will fright thee then so much asjFor valour, is not love a Hercules, 
 
 she. jStill climbing trees in the Hesperides? 
 
 Dum. I never knew man hold vile stufTso dear. Subtle as sphinx ; as sweet, and musical, 
 Long. Look, here's thy love : my foot and her As bright Apollo's lute, strung with his hair ; 
 
 face see. [Showing his sftoe. And, when love speaks, the voice of all the gods 
 
 Biron. O, if the streets were paved with thine Makes heaven drowsy with the harmony. 
 
 eyes, I Never durst poet touch a pen to write, 
 
 Her feet were much too dainty for such tread ! Until his ink were teniper'd with love's sighs ; 
 Dum. O vile! then as she goes, what upward O, then his lines would ravish savage ears, 
 
 lies And plant in tyrants mild humility. 
 
 The street should see as she walk'd over From women's eves this doctrine I derive : 
 head. jThey sparkle still the right Promethean fire ; 
 
 Xing'. But what of this ? Arc we not all in love ? 
 
 Biron. O, nothing so sure ; and thereby all for- 
 sworn. 
 
 King. Then leave Ms chat ; and, good Bir6n, 
 
 now prove 
 Our loving lawful, and our faith not torn. 
 
 Dum. Ay, marry, there ; some flattery for thisj 
 evil. 
 
 They arc the books, the arts, the academes, 
 That show, contain, and nourish all the world : 
 Else, none at all in aught proves excellent : 
 Then fools you were the?e women to forswear ; 
 Or, keeping what is sworn, you will prove fools. 
 For wisdom's sake, a word that all men lore ; 
 
 (1) Law chicane.
 
 m 
 
 LOVE'S LABOUR'S LOST. 
 
 AttV. 
 
 Or for love's sake, a word that loves all men ; 
 Or for men's sake, the author's of these women ; 
 Or women's sake, by whom we men are men ; 
 Let us once lose our oaths, to find ourselves, 
 Or else we lose ourjelves to keep our oaths : 
 It is religion to be thus forsworn : 
 For charity itself fulfils the law ; 
 And who can sever love from charity ? 
 King. Saint Cupid, then ! and, soldiers, to the 
 
 field! 
 Biron. Advance your standards, and upon them, 
 
 lords ; 
 
 Pell-mell, down with them ! but be first advis'd, 
 In conflict that you get the sun of them. 
 
 Long. Now to plain-dealing ; lay these glozes by : 
 Shall we resolve to woo these girls of France ? 
 
 King. And win them too : therefore let us devise 
 Some entertainment for them in their tents. 
 Biron. First, from the park let us conduct them 
 
 thither : 
 
 Then, homeward every man attach the hand 
 Of his fair mistress : in the afternoon 
 We will with some strange pastime solace them, 
 Such as the shortness of the time can shape ; 
 For revels, dances, masks, and merry hour.'!, 
 Fore-run lair love, strewing her way with flowers. 
 
 King. Away, away! no time shall be omitted, 
 That will be time, and may by us be fitted. 
 Biron. Allans ! Allans ! Sow'd cockle reap'd 
 
 no corn ; 
 
 And justice always whirls in equal measure : 
 Light wenches may prove plagues to men forsworn ; 
 If so, our copper buys no better treasure. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 ACT V. 
 
 SCENE I. Another part of the same. Enter 
 Holofernes, & Nathaniel, and Dull. 
 
 Hoi. Satis quod svfficit. 
 
 Jfath. I praise God for you, sir : your reasons' 
 at dinner have been sharp and sententious ; plea- 
 sant without scurrility, witty without affection,'-' 
 audacious without imptidency, learned without 
 opinion, and strange without neresy. I did con- 
 Terse this quondam day with a companion of the 
 kind's, who is intituled, nominated, or called, Don 
 Adfiano de Armado. 
 
 Hoi. ./Ybt;t homine m tanquam te : His humour 
 is lofty, his discourse peremptory, hia tongue filed, 
 his eye ambitious, his pait majestieal, and liis genc- 
 ral behaviour vain, ridiculous, and thrasonical. 3 
 He is too picked,* too spruce, too al!bcted, too odd, 
 AS it were, too perigrinale, as I may call it. 
 
 Natb. A most singular and choice epithet. 
 
 [Takes out Ids table-book. 
 
 Hoi. He draweth out the thread of his verbosity 
 finer than the staple of his argument. I abhor such 
 hinatical phantasms, such insociable and point-dc- 
 visc* companions ; such rackers of orthography, as 
 to speak, dout, fine, when hd should say doubt ; 
 del, when he should pronounce debt ; d, e, b, t ; 
 not d, e, t: he clcpcth a calf, cauf; half, hauf; 
 neighbour, vocntnr, nebour ; neigh, abbreviated, 
 ne : This is abhominable (which he would call 
 abominable,) it insinuateth me of insanic ; A'e 
 intettigis donine 1 to make frantic, lunatic. 
 
 Nath. LOU.I deo, bone intelligo. 
 
 (1) Discourses. (2) Affectation. 
 
 fS) Boastful. (4) Over-dressed. 
 
 (5) Finical exactness. 
 
 Hoi. Bone 1 bone, for bene : Priicien a little 
 
 scratch'd ; 'twill serve. 
 
 Enter Armado, Moth, and Costard. 
 
 Nath. Vidcsne quis venit ? 
 
 Hoi. Video, et gaudeo. 
 
 Arm. Chirra! [To Moth. 
 
 Hoi. Qware Chirra, not sirrah ? 
 
 Aiin. Men of peace, well encounter'd. 
 
 Hoi. Most military sir, salutation. 
 
 Moth. They have" been at a great feast of Ian- 
 uages, and stolen the scraps. (To Costard aside. 
 
 Cost. O, they have lived long m the alms-basket 
 of %vords ! "I marvel, thy master hath not eaten 
 thee for a word ; for thou art not so long by the 
 head as honorificabilitudinitalibus : thou art easiei 
 swallowed than a flap-dragon. 6 
 
 Moth. Peace; the peal begins. 
 
 Arm. Monsieur, [To Hoi.] are you not letter'd ? 
 
 Moth. Yes, yes ; he teaches boys the hornbook : 
 What is a, b, spelt backward, with a horn on his 
 head ? 
 
 Hoi. Ba, pucritia, with a horn added. 
 
 Moth. Ba, most silly sheep, with a horn : You 
 hear his learninz. 
 
 Hoi. Quis, quis, thou consonant ? 
 
 Moth. The third of the five vowels, if you re - 
 peat them ; or the fifth, if I. 
 
 Hoi. I will repeat them, a, e, i. 
 
 Moth. The sheep : the other two concludes it ; 
 o, u. 
 
 Arm. NOTT, by the salt wave of the Mediterra 
 neum, a sweet touch,' a quick venew of wit : snip, 
 snap, quick and home ; it rejoiceth my intellect : 
 true wit 
 
 JtTbl/t. Offer'd by a child to an old man ; which 
 is wit-old. 
 
 JIol. What is the figure ? what is the figure ? 
 
 Jifoth. Horns. 
 
 Hoi. Thou disputcst like an infant : go, whip 
 thy p-ig. 
 
 'Moth. Lend me your horn to make one, and I 
 will whip about your infamy ctxcum ct'rca ; A gig 
 of a cuckold's horn ! 
 
 Cost. An I had but one penny in the world, 
 thou should'st have it to buy rringerbrcad : hold, 
 there is the very remuneration I had of thy master, 
 thou half-penny purse of wit, thou pigeon-egg of 
 discretion. O, an the heavens were so pleased, that 
 thou wert but my bastard ! what a joyful father 
 would'st thou make me ! Go to ; thou hast it ad 
 dunghill, at the finders' ends, as they say. 
 
 Hoi. O, I smell false Latin ; dunghill for >t- 
 gwm. 
 
 Arm. Arts-man, prccambula; we will be singled 
 from the barbarous. Do you not educate youth at 
 the charge-house* on the top of the mountain ? 
 
 Hoi. Or, 7)io?w, the hill. 
 
 Arm. At your sweet pleasure, for the mountain. 
 
 Hoi. I do, sans question. 
 
 Arm. Sir, it is the king's most sweet pleasure 
 and affection, to congratulate Ihe princess at her 
 pavilion, in the posteriors of this day ; which the 
 rude multitude call the afternoon. 
 
 Hoi. The posterior of the day, most generous 
 sir, is liable, congruent, and measurable for pie 
 afternoon : the word is well cull'd, chose ; sweet 
 and apt, I do assure you, sir, I do assure. 
 
 Arm. Sir, the king is a noble gentleman ; and 
 my familiar, I do assure yo,_, very good friend : 
 
 (6) A small inflammable substance, swallowed 
 in a orlass of wine. 
 (7) A hit (8) Free-school
 
 Settle II. 
 
 LOVE'S LABOUR'S LOST. 
 
 1*9 
 
 but this ? yes, as much lore in 
 
 For what is inward 1 between us, let it pass : I do Prin. Nothing 
 
 beseech Ihee, remember thv courtesy ; I beseech rhyme 
 
 thee, apparel thy head ; and among other importu-, As would be cramm'd up in a sheet of paper, 
 
 nate and most serious designs, and of great im-i Writ on both sides the leaf, margent and all ; 
 
 port, indeed, too ; but let that pass : for I mustiThat he was fain to seal on Cupid's name. 
 
 tell thee, it will please his grace (by the world)' Roy. That was the way to make his god-head 
 
 sometime to lean upon my poor shoulder ; and with ' wax ;' 
 
 his royal finder, thus, dally with my excrement, 2 j For he hath been five thousand years a boy. 
 
 with my mustachio : but sweetheart, let that pass. Kath. Ay, and a shrewd unhappy gallows too. 
 
 By the' world, I recount no fable ; some certain Ros. You'll ne'er be friends with him ; he kill'd 
 
 special honours it pleaseth his greatness to impart your sister. 
 
 to Armado, a soldier, a man of travel, that hath Kath. He made her melancholy, sad, and heary ; 
 
 seen the world : but let that pass. The very all ofj And so she died : had she been light, like you. 
 
 all is, but, sweet heart, I do implore secrecy, 
 that the king- would have me present the princess, 
 sweet chuck, 3 with some delightful ostentation, or 
 show, or pageant, or antic, or fire-work. Now, 
 
 understanding that the curate and your sweet self, 
 are good at such eruptions, and sudden breaking 
 out of mirth, as it were, I have acquainted you 
 withal, to the end to crave your assistance. 
 Hoi. Sir, you shall present before her the nine 
 
 Of such a merry, nimble, stirring spirit, 
 She might have been a grandam^ere she died : 
 And so may you ; for a light heart lives long. 
 Ros. What's your dark meaning, mouse,'' of this 
 
 light word ? 
 
 Kath. A light condition in a beauty dark. 
 Ros. We need more light to find your meaning 
 
 out. 
 
 ....-... ~.,, T _..,. j..-.-^.... .,_,^,., ,.. in^iiim,. Kath. \ ou'H mar the light, by talcing it in snuff j* 
 worthies. Sir Nathaniel, as concerning some en- 'Therefore, I'll darkly end the argument. 
 
 tprtainmpnt of timp. somp. shnw in thp nnstprim- nf Ros. Look. whatJ'OU do, yOU do it Still i' the dark. 
 
 Kath. So do not you ; for you are a light wench. 
 Ros. Indeed, I weigh not you ; and therefore light. 
 Kath. You weigh me not, 0, that's, you care not 
 
 tertainment of time, some show in the posterior of 
 this day, to be rendered by our assistance, the 
 king's command, and this most gallant, illustrate, 
 ana learned gentleman, before the princess ; I 
 say, none so fit as to present the nine worthies. 
 
 Nath. Where will you find teen worthy enough 
 to present them ? 
 
 Hoi. Joshua, yourself; myself, or this gallant 
 gentleman, Judas M accabxus ; this swain, because 
 of his great limb or joint, shall pass Pompey the 
 great ; the pasre, Hercules. 
 
 Arm. Pardon, sir, error : he is not quantity 
 enough for that worthy's thumb : he is not so big 
 as the end of his club. 
 
 Hoi. Shall I have audience ? he shall present 
 Hercules in minority ; his enter and exii shall be 
 strangling a snake ; and I will have an apology for 
 that purjto'p. 
 
 Moth. An excellent device! so, if any of thr 
 audience hiss, you may cry : well done, Hercules ! 
 note thou tnukttk the siiakc .' that is the way to 
 make an offence gracious ; though few haye'thc- 
 grace to do it. 
 
 Arm. For the rest of the worthies ? 
 
 Hoi. I will play three mysolf. 
 
 Moth. Thrice-worthy gentleman! 
 
 Arm. Shall I tell you a tiling ? 
 
 Hoi. We attend. 
 
 Arm. We will have, if this fadge 4 not, an antic. 
 I beseech you, follow. 
 
 Hoi. I'w, 5 goodmanDull! thou has spoken no 
 word all this while. 
 
 Dull. Nor understood none neither, sir. 
 
 Hoi. Allans ! we will employ thee. 
 
 Dull. I'll make one in a dance, or so or I will 
 play on the tabor to the wortliies, and let them 
 dance the hav. 
 
 Hoi. Most dull, honest Dull, to our sport, away. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 SCE.VE II.^1nother part of the same. Before 
 the Princess's Pavilion. Enter the Princess, 
 Katharine, Rosaline, and Maria. 
 
 Prirt. Sweet hearts,we shall be rich ere we depart, 
 If fairings come thus plentifully in : 
 A lady walled about with diamonds ! 
 Look you, what I have from the loving king. 
 
 Ros. Madam, came nothing else along with that ? 
 
 Confidential. (2) Beard. (3) 
 Suit, (5) Courage, (6) 
 
 Chick. 
 Grow, 
 
 for me. 
 
 Ros. Great reason ; for, Past cure is still past care. 
 Prin. Well bandied both ; a set of wit well play'd- 
 But Rosaline, you have a favour too : 
 
 Who sent it ? and what is it ? 
 
 Ros. 
 
 I would, you knew . 
 
 let me not die your 
 
 An if my face were but as fair as yours, 
 
 My favour were as great ; be witness this. 
 
 Nay, I have verses too, I thank Bir6n : 
 
 The numbers true ; and, were the numb'ring too. 
 
 I were the fairest goddess on the ground ; 
 
 I am compar'd to twenty thousand fairs. 
 
 O, he hath drawn my picture in his letter ! 
 
 Prin. Any thinsr like ? 
 
 Ros. Much, in the letters ; nothing in the praise, 
 
 PriH. Beauteous as ink ; a good conclusion. 
 
 Kath. Fair as text B in a copy-book. 
 
 Ros. 'Ware pencils ! How ? "let me n 
 
 debtor, 
 
 My red dominical, my golden letter : 
 0, that your face were not so full of O's ! 
 
 Kath. A pox of that jest! and beshrew all shrows ! 
 
 Prin. But what was sent to you from fair Du- 
 main? 
 
 Kath. Madam, this glove. 
 
 Prin. Did he not send you twain ? 
 
 Kath. Yns, madam ; and moreover, 
 Some thousand verses of a faithful lover : 
 A hu<re translation of hypocrisy. 
 Vilely corr.pil'd, profound simplicity. 
 
 Mar. This, and these pearls, to me senl Longa 
 
 ville ; 
 T!if! letter is too long by half a mile. 
 
 Prin. I think no 'less : Dost thou not wish in 
 
 heart, 
 The chain were longer, and the letter short ? 
 
 Mar. Av, or I would these hands might nerer 
 n:irt. 
 
 Prin. We are wise girl?, to mock our lovers so. 
 
 Ros. Thev are worse fools to purchase mocking so. 
 That same Bir6n I'll torture ere I po. 
 0, that I knew he were but in by the week ! 
 How would I make him fawn, and beg t and seek, 
 And wait the season, and observe the times, 
 And spend his prodigal wits in bootless rhymes ; 
 
 (7) Formerly a term of endearment, (8) la anger,
 
 174 
 
 LOVE'S LABOUR'S LOST. 
 
 And shape his service wholly to my behests ; (Hold, Rosaline, this favour thdu shall wear ; 
 And make him proud to make me proud that jests !|And then the king will court thee for his dear; 
 So portent-like would I o'ersway his state, Hold, take thou this, my sweet, and give me thine 
 
 That he should be my fool, and'l his fate. So shall Bir6n take me for Rosaline. 
 
 Pnn. None are so surely cauyht, when they arei And change you favours too ; so shall your lores 
 
 Woo contrary, deceiv'd by these removes. 
 Ros. Comeonthen; wear the favours most in sight. 
 Kath. But, in this changing, what is your intent / 
 Prin. The effect of my intent is, to cross theirs : 
 
 catch'd, 
 
 As wit turn'd fool : folly, in wisdom hatch'd, 
 Hath wisdom's warrant, and the help of school ; 
 And wit's own grace to grace a learned fool. 
 Rot. The blood of youth burns not with such] They doit but in mocking merriment; 
 
 excess, I And mock for mock is only my intent. 
 
 As gravity's revolt to wantonness. 
 
 Mar. tfolly in fools bears not so strong a note, To loves mistook ; and so be mock'd withal, 
 
 As foolery in the wise, when wit doth dote , 
 Since all the power thereof it doth apply, 
 To prove, by wit, worth in simplicity. 
 
 Enter Boyet. 
 
 Prin, Here comes Boyet, and mirth is in his face. 
 
 Boyet. O, I am stabb'd with laughter! Where's 
 her grace ? 
 
 Pnn. Ti.y news, Boyet? 
 
 Boyet. Prepare, madam, prepare ! 
 
 Arm, wenches, arm ; encounters mounted are 
 Against your peace : Love dolh approach disguis'd, 
 Arm'd iii arguments ; you'll be surpris'd : 
 Muster your wits ; stand in your own defence ; 
 Or hide your heads like cowards, arid fly hence. 
 
 Prin. "Saint Dennis to saint Cupid ! What are 
 
 they, 
 That charge their breath against us ? say, scout, say. 
 
 Boyet. Under the cool shade of a sycamore, 
 I though to close mine eyes some half an hour : 
 When, lo ! to interrupt my purpos'd rest, 
 Toward that shadc'I might behold addrest 
 The king and his companions : warily 
 I stole into a neighbour thicket by, 
 And overheard what you shall overhear ; 
 That, by and .by. disguis'd they will be here. 
 Their herald is a pretty knavish nage, 
 That well by heart hath conn'd his embassage : 
 Action, and accent, did they teach him there ; 
 Thus must thou speak, and thus thy body bear : 
 And ever and anon they made a doubt, 
 Presence majestical would put him out : 
 For, quoth the king, on angel shall thmtsec; 
 Yet J 'ear not thou, but speak audaciously. 
 The boy replied, Jin angel is not evil ; 
 I should hate fear'd her, had she been a deril. 
 With that aft laugh'd, and clapp'd him on the 
 
 shoulder ; 
 
 Makiny the, bold wag by their praises bolder. 
 One rubb'd his elbow,. thus ; and fleer d, and swore, 
 A better speech was never spoke before : 
 Another, with his finder and his thumb, 
 Cry'd, Via ! we will aoV, come what will come : 
 The third he caper'd, and cried, Jill goes well : 
 The fourth turn'd on the toe, and down he felL 
 With that, they all did tumble on the ground, 
 With such a zealous laughter, so profound, 
 That in this spleen ridiculous appears, 
 To check their folly, passion's solemn tears. 
 
 Prin. But what, but what, come they to visit us ? 
 
 Bovet. They do, they do; and are apparel'd thus, 
 Like^Museovites, or Russians : as I guess, 
 Their purpose is ? to parle, to court, and dance : 
 And every one his love-feat will advance 
 Unto his several mistress ; which they'll know 
 By favours several which they did bestow. 
 
 Prin. And will they so ? the gallanta shall be 
 
 task'd : 
 
 For. ladies, we will every one be mask'd ; 
 And not a man of them shall have the grace, 
 pwpite of uit, to see a lady's face, 
 
 Their several counsels thev unbosom shall 
 
 Upon the next occasion that we meet, 
 'With visages display'd, to talk, and greet. 
 
 lios. But shall we dance, if they desire us to't! 
 
 Prin. No ; to the death, we will not move a foot : 
 Nor to their penn'd speech render we no grace ; 
 But, while 'tis spoke, each turn away her face. 
 
 Boyet. Why, lhatcontempt will kill the speaker'* 
 
 heart, 
 And quite divorce his memory from his part. 
 
 Prin. Therefore I do it ; and, I make no doubt, 
 The rest will ne'er come in, if he be out. 
 There's no such sport, as sport by sport o'erthrown ; 
 To make theirs ours, and ours none but our own : 
 So shall we stay, mocking intended game ; 
 And they, well mock'd, depart away with shame. 
 [Trumpets sound within. 
 
 Boyet. The trumpet sounds : be mask'd, the 
 maskers come. [The ladies mank. 
 
 Enter the King, Biron, Longaville, and Dumain, 
 in Russian habits, and masked; Moth, musi- 
 cians, and attendants. 
 
 Moth. Jill hail ! the richest beauties on the earth ! 
 
 Boyet. Beauties no richer than rich taffeta. 
 
 Moth. Jl Iwly parcel of the fairest dames, 
 
 [The ladies turn their backs to him. 
 That ever turn'd their backs to mortal views ! 
 
 Biron. Their eyes, villain, their eyes. 
 
 Moth. That tver turn'd their eyes to mortal views / 
 Okf 
 
 Boyet. Trus ; out, indeed. 
 
 ^Moth. Out of your favours, heavenly spirit*, 
 
 vouchsafe 
 Not to behold 
 
 Biron. Once to behold, rogue. 
 
 Moth. Once to behold with your tun-beamtd 
 eyes, with your sun-beamed eyes 
 
 Boyet. They will not answer to that epithet ; 
 You were best call it, daughter-beamed eyes. 
 
 Moth. They do not mark me, and that brings 
 me out. 
 
 Biron. Is this your perfectness ? be gone, yoa 
 rogue. 
 
 JZos. What would these strangers ? know their 
 
 minds, Boyet : 
 
 If they do speak our language, 'tis our will 
 That some plain man recount their purposes : 
 Know what they would. 
 
 Jioyet. What would you with the princess ? 
 
 Biron. Nothing but, peace, and gentle visitation. 
 
 Ros. What would they, say they ? 
 
 Boyet. Nothing but peace, and gentle visitation. 
 
 Ros. Why, that they have ; and bid them so be 
 pone. 
 
 Boyet. She says, you have it, and you may be gone. 
 
 King. Say to her, we have measur'd many miles, 
 To tread a measure with vou on this grass.' 
 
 Boyet, They say, that they have measur'd many 
 
 a mile, 
 To tread a measure with you on this grass. 
 
 Res. |t is not so : ask them how many inches
 
 Sftnell. 
 
 LOVE'S LABOUR'S LOST. 
 
 ITS 
 
 Is in one mile : if they hare measur'd many, 
 The measure then of one is easily told. 
 
 Itoyct. If, to come hither you have measur'd miles, 
 And many miles ; the princecs bids you tell, 
 How manv inches do (ill up one mile. 
 
 Biron. 'Tell her, we measure thcra by weary steps. 
 
 Boyet. She hears herself. 
 
 Ros. Hov.- many weary steps, 
 
 Of many weary miles you have o'ergone, 
 Arenumber'd in the travel of one mile? 
 
 Biron. We number nothing that we spend for you; 
 Our duty is so rich, so infinite, 
 That we may do it still without accompt. 
 Vouchsafe to show the sunshine of your face, 
 That we, like sarases, may worship it. 
 
 Jtos. My face isl>ut a moon, and clouded too. 
 
 King. Blessed are clouds, to do as such clouds do! 
 Vouchsafe, bright moon, and these thy stars, to shine 
 (Those clouds remov'd,) upon our wat'ry eyne. 
 
 Ros. O rain petitioner ! beg a greater matter ; 
 
 Mar. Name It 
 
 Dum. Fair lady, 
 
 Mar. Say you so ? Fair lord, 
 
 Take that for your fair lady. 
 
 Dum. Please it you, 
 
 As much in private, and I'll bid adieu. 
 
 [They converse apart. 
 
 Kath. What, was your riser "made without a 
 tongue ? 
 
 Long. I know the reason, lady, why you ask. 
 
 Kath. O, for your reason ? quickly", sir ; I long. 
 
 Long. You have a double tongue within your 
 
 mask. 
 And would afford my speechless visor half. 
 
 Kalk. Veal, quoth the Dutchman ; Is not real 
 a calf? 
 
 Jang. A calf, fair ladv ? 
 
 Kath. No, a fair lord calf. 
 
 Jxmif. Let's oart the word. 
 
 Kath. No, I'll not be your half: 
 
 Thou now request'st but moonshine in the water. (Take all, and wean it ; it may prove an ox. 
 
 King. Then, in our measure do but vouchsafe 
 
 one change : 
 
 Thou bid'st me beg ; this begging is not strange. 
 
 Ros. Play, music, then : nay, you must do it 
 
 soon. ' [ATi;.nc plars. 
 
 Not yet ; no dance : thus change I like the moon. 
 
 King. Will you not dance? How come you thus 
 
 estrang'd ? 
 Ros. You took the moon at full ; but now she's 
 
 chang'd. 
 
 King. Yet still she is the moon, and I the man. 
 The music plays ; vouchsafe some motion to it. 
 .Ro*. Our ears vouchsafe it. 
 King. But your le^s should do it. 
 
 Ros. Since you are strangers, and come here by 
 
 chance, 
 
 We'll not be nice : take hands ; we will not dance. 
 King. Why take we hands then ? 
 Ros. Only to part friends : 
 
 Court'sy, sweet hearts ; and so" the measure ends. 
 King. More measure of this measure ; be not nice. 
 Ros. We can afford no more at such a price. 
 King. Prize you yourselves; What buys j'our 
 
 company ? 
 
 Ros. Your abs'ence only. 
 
 King. That can never be. 
 
 Ros. Then cannot we be bought : and so adieu ; 
 Twice to vour visor, and half once to vou ! 
 King. If you deny to dance, let's hold more chat. 
 Ron. In private then. 
 
 King. I am best pleas'd with that. 
 
 [They cancer se apart. 
 
 Biron. White-handed mistress, one sweet word 
 
 with thee. 
 Prin. Honey, and milk, and sugar; there is 
 
 three." 
 Biron. Nay then, two treys (an if you grow so 
 
 nice,") 
 
 Metheelin, wort, and malmsey ; Well run, dice ! 
 There's half a dozen sweets. 
 
 Prin. Seventh sweet, adieu ! 
 
 Since you can cog, 1 I'll play no more with you. 
 Biron. One word in secret 
 Prin. Let it not be sweet. 
 
 Biron. Thou griev'st mv gall. 
 Prin. Gall? bitter. 
 
 .Biron. Therefore meet. 
 
 [They converse apart. 
 
 Dum. Will you rouchsafe with me to change a 
 word 1 
 
 '!) Falsify dice, lie. 
 
 (t) A quibble on the French adrerb of negation. 
 
 Long. Look, how you butt yourself ia these 
 
 sharp mocks ! 
 
 Will you give horns, chaste lady ? do not so. 
 Kath. Then die a calf, before your horns do grow. 
 Long. One word in private with you, ere I die. 
 Kath. Bleat softly then, the butcher hears you 
 crv. [They converse apart. 
 
 Bnyet. The tongues of mocking wenches are as 
 
 keen 
 
 As is the razor's edsre invisible, 
 Cutting a smaller hair than may be seen ; 
 Above the sense of sense : so sensible 
 Seemeth their conference ; their conceits haw 
 
 wings, 
 Fleeter than arrows, bullets, wind, thought, swifter 
 
 things. 
 Ros. Not one word mere, my maids ; break off, 
 
 break off. 
 
 Biron. By heaven, all dry-beaten with pure scoff! 
 King. Farewell, mad wenches ; you have simple 
 wits. 
 
 [Exeunt King, Lords, Moth, music, 
 
 and attendants. 
 
 Prin. Twenty adieus, my frozen Muscovites. 
 Are these the breed of wits so wonder'd at ? 
 Boyet. Tapers they are, with your sweet breaths 
 
 puffM out 
 Ros. Well-liking wits they hare ; gross, gross 
 
 fat, fat 
 
 Prin. O poverty in wit, kingly-poor flout ! 
 Will they not. think you, hang themselves to-night ? 
 
 Or ever, but in visors, show their faces ? 
 This pert Biron was out of countenance quite. 
 Bos. O! they were all in lamentable cases! 
 The king was weeping-ripe for a good word. 
 Prin. Bir6n did swear himself out of all suit. 
 ,^for. Dtimain was at my service, and his sword : 
 No pom/, 5 quoth I : my servant straight was mute. 
 Kath. Lord Longaville said, I came o'er his heart; 
 And trow you, what he call'd me ? 
 Prin. Qualm, perhaps. 
 
 Kath. Yes, in good faith. 
 
 Prin. Go, sickness as thou art ! 
 
 Ros. Well, better wits have worn plain statute- 
 caps. 1 
 
 But will you hear? the king is my love sworn. 
 Prin. And quick Biron hath plighted faith to me. 
 Kaih. And Longaville was for my service born. 
 Mar. Dumain is mine, as sure as bark on tree. 
 Boyet. Madam, and pretty mistresses, give ear: 
 Immediately they will again be here 
 
 (3) Better wits may be found among citizens,
 
 LOVE'S LABOUR'S LOST. 
 
 Act tr. 
 
 In their own shapes ; for it can never be, 
 They will digest this harsh indignity. 
 
 Prin. Wifl they return ? 
 
 Boyet. They will, they will, God knows ; 
 
 And leap for joy, though they are lame with blows : 
 Therefore, change favours ;' and when they repair, 
 Blow like sweet roses in the summer air. 
 
 Prin. How blow ? how blow ? speak to be un- 
 derstood. 
 
 Boyet . Fair ladies, mask'd, are roses in their bud : 
 Dismask'd, their damask sweet commixture shown, 
 Are angels veiling clouds, or roses blown. 
 
 Prin. Avaunf, perplexity ! What shall we do, 
 If they return in their own shapes to %voo ? 
 
 Ros. Good madam, if by me you'll be advis'd, 
 Let's mock them still, as well known, as disguis'd : 
 Let us complain to them what fools were here, 
 Disguis'd like Muscovites, in shapeless 2 gear ; 
 And wonder what they were ; and to what end 
 Their shallcw shows, and prologue vilely penn'd, 
 And their rough carriage so ridiculous, 
 Should be presented at our tent to us. 
 
 Boyet. Ladies, withdraw ; the gallants are at 
 hand. 
 
 Prin. Whip to our tents, as roes run over land. 
 [Exeunt Princess, Ros. Kath. and Maria. 
 
 Enter the King, Biron, Longaville, and Dumain, 
 in ttieir proper habits. 
 
 King. Fair sir, God safe you ! Where is the 
 princess ? 
 
 Boyet. Gone to her tent : Please it your majesty, 
 Command me any service to her thither? 
 
 King. That she vouchsafe me audience for one 
 word. 
 
 Boyet. I will ; and so will she, I know, my lord. 
 
 '[Exit. 
 
 Biron. This fellow pecks up wit, as pigeons 
 
 peas ; 
 
 And utters it again when God doth please: 
 He is wit's pedlar; and retails his wares 
 At wakes, and wassels, 3 meetings, markets, fairs ; 
 And we that sell by gross, the Lord doth know, 
 Have not the grace to grace itwith such show. 
 This gallant pins the wenches on his sleeve ; 
 Had he been Adam, he had tempted Eve : 
 He can carve too, and lisp : Why, this is he. 
 That kiss'd away his hand in courtesy ; 
 This is the ape of form, monsieur the nice, 
 That when he plays at tables, chides the dice, 
 In honourable terms ! nay, he can sing 
 A mean 4 most meanly ; and, in ushering, 
 Mend him who can : the ladies call him, sweet ; 
 The stairs, as he treads on them, kiss iiis feet : 
 This is the flower that smiles on every one, 
 To show his teeth ns white as whale's bone : 5 
 And consciences, that will not die in debt, 
 Pay him the due of honev-tongued Boyet. 
 
 King. A blister on his sweet tongue, with my 
 
 heart, 
 That put Armado's page out of his part ! 
 
 Enter the Princess, usher'd by Boyet ; Rosaline, 
 Maria, Katharine, and attendants. 
 
 Biron. See where it comes ! Behaviour, what 
 
 wert thou, 
 
 Till this man show'd thee ? and what art thou now ? 
 King. AH hail, sweet madam, and fair time of 
 
 day! 
 Prin. Fair, in all hail, is foul, as I conceive. 
 
 HJ Features, countenances. 
 (S) Rustic merry-meetingg. 
 (4) The tenor in music. 
 
 (2) Uncouth. 
 
 King. Construe my speeches better, if you may. 
 Prin. Then wish me better, I will give you leave. 
 King. We came to visit you ; and purpose now 
 
 To lead you to our court : vouchsafe it then. 
 Pri?i. This field shall hold me ; and so hold your 
 
 vow : 
 
 Nor God, nor I, delight in perjur'd men. 
 King. Rebuke me not for that which you pro- 
 voke; 
 
 The virtue of your eye must break my oath. 
 Prin. You nick-name virtue: vice you should 
 
 have spoke ; 
 
 For virtue's office never breaks men's troth. 
 Now, by my maiden honour, yet as pure 
 
 As the unsullied lily, I protest, 
 A world of torments though I should endure, 
 
 I would not yield to be your house's guest ; 
 So much I hate a breaking cause to be 
 Of heavenly oaths, vow'd with integrity. 
 King. O, you have liv'd in desolation here, 
 
 IJnseen, unvisited, much to our shame. 
 Prin. Not so, my lord ; it is not so, I swear. 
 
 We have had pastimes here, and pleasant game ; 
 A mess of Russians left us but of late. 
 King. How, madam ? Russians ? 
 Prin. Ay, in truth, my lord ; 
 
 Trim gallants, full of courtship, and of state. 
 
 Ros. Madam, speak true : It is not so, my lord ; 
 My lady (to the manner of the days, 6 ) 
 In courtesy, gives undeserving praise. 
 We four, indeed, confronted here with four 
 In Russian habit : here they stay'd an hour, 
 And talk'd apace ; and in that hour, my lord, 
 They did not bless us with one happy word. 
 1 dare not call them fools : but this I think, 
 When they are thirsty, fools would fain have drink. 
 inw. This jest is dry to me Fair, gentle 
 
 sweet, 
 
 Your wit makes wise things foolish ; when we greet 
 With eyes best seeing heaven's fiery eye, 
 By light we lose lijrht : Your capacity 
 Is of that nature, that to your huge store 
 Wise things seem foolish, and rich things but poor. 
 Ros. This proves you wise and rich, for in my 
 
 eye, 
 
 Biron. I am a fool, and full of poverty. 
 Ros. But that you take what doth to you belong, 
 It were a fault to snatch words from my tongue. 
 Bircn. O, I am yours, and all that I possess. 
 Ros. All the fool mine ? 
 
 Biron. I cannot give you less. 
 
 /Jos. Which of the visors whs it, that you wore 7 
 Biron. Where? when? what visor? why de- 
 mand you this ? 
 
 Ros. There, then, that visor ; that superfluous case, 
 That hid the worse, and show'd the better face. 
 King. We are descried: they'll mock us now 
 
 downright, 
 
 Diim. Let us confess, and turn it to a jest. 
 Prin. Aniaz'd, my lord ? Why looks your high- 
 ness sad ? 
 Ros. Help, hold his brows ! he'll swoon ! Why 
 
 look you pale ? 
 
 Sea-sick, I think, convng from Muscovy. 
 Biron. Thus pour the stars down plagues for 
 
 perjury. 
 
 Can any face of brass hold longer out? 
 Here stand I, lady ; dart thy skill at me : 
 
 Bruise me with scorn, confound me with a flout ; 
 Thrust thy sharp wit quite through my ignorance ; 
 Cut me to pieces with thy keen conceit; 
 
 . (5) The tooth of the horse- whale. 
 (6) After the fashion of the time*
 
 Scene J I. 
 
 LOVE'S LABOUR'S LOST. 
 
 177 
 
 And I will wish thee never more to dance, 
 Nor never more in Russian habit wait. 
 
 ! never will I trust to speeches pcnn'd, 
 
 Nor to the motion of a school-boy's tongue ; 
 Nor never come in visor to my friend ;' 
 
 Nor woo in rhvme, like a blind harper's song: 
 Tafiata phrases, silken terms precise, 
 
 Three-pil'd hyperboles, spruce affectation, 
 Figures pedantical ; these summer- flies 
 
 Have blown me full of maggot ostentation : 
 
 1 do forswear them : and I here protest, 
 
 By this white glove, (how wliite the hand, God 
 
 knows ! ) 
 Henceforth my wooing mind shall be express'd 
 
 In russet yeas, and honest kersey noes : 
 And, to begin, wench, So God help" me. la ! 
 Mv love to thee is sound, sans crack or flaw. 
 
 ftps. Sans sans, I pray you. 
 
 Biron. Yet I have a trick 
 
 Of the old rage: bear with me, I am sick; 
 I'll leave it by degrees. Soft, let us see ; 
 Write, Lord 'have niercy en us, on those three ; 
 They are infected, in their hearts it lies ; 
 They have the plague, and caught it of your eyes : 
 These lords are visited ; you are not free, 
 For the Lord's tokens on you do I see. 
 
 Prin. No, they are free', that gave these tokens 
 to us. 
 
 Biron. Our states are forfeit, seek not to undo us. 
 
 Ros. It is not so ; For how can this be true, 
 That you stand forfeit, being those that sue ? 
 
 Biron. Peace ; for I will not have to do with you. 
 
 Ros. Nor shall not, if I do as I intend. 
 
 Eiron. Speak for yourselves, my wit is at an 
 end. 
 
 A'ing-. Teach us, sweet madam, for our rude 
 
 transgression 
 Some fair excuse. 
 
 Prin. The fairest is confession. 
 
 Were you not here, but even now, disguis'd ? 
 
 King. Madam, I was. 
 
 Prin. And were you well advb'd ? 
 
 King. I was, fair madam. 
 
 Prin. When you then were here, 
 
 What did you whisper in 3'our lady's ear? 
 
 King. That more than all the world I did respect 
 her. 
 
 Prin. When she shall challenge this, you v.ill re- 
 ject her. 
 
 King. Upon mine honour, no. 
 
 Prin. Peace, petice, forbear ; 
 
 Your oath once broke, you force 2 not to forswear. 
 
 King. Despise me, when I break this oath of mine. 
 
 Prin. I will ; and therefore keep it: Rosaline,' 
 What did the Russian whisper in your ear ? 
 
 Ros. Madam, he swore, that he'did hold me dear 
 As precious e3 - e-sight ; and did value me 
 Above this world : adding- thereto, moreover, 
 That he would wed me, or else die my lover. 
 
 Prin. God give thee joy of him ! the noble lord 
 Most honourably doth uphold his word. 
 
 King. What mean you, madam ? by my life, my 
 
 troth, 
 I never snore this lady such an oath. 
 
 Ros. By heaven, you did ; and to confirm it plain, 
 You gave me this : but take it, sir, again. 
 
 King. My faith, and this, the princess I did give ; 
 I knew her by this jewel on her sleeve. 
 
 Prin. Pardon me, sir, this jewel did she wear; 
 And lord Bir6n, I thank him, is my dear : 
 What ; will you have me, or your pearl again ? 
 
 Biron. Neither of either ; I remit both twain. 
 
 (I ) Mistress. (2) Make no difficulty. 
 
 I see the trick on't ; Here was a consent* 
 
 (Knowing aforehand of our merriment,) 
 
 To dash it like a Christmas comedy : 
 
 Some carry-tale, some please-man, some slight 
 
 zany,* 
 Some mumble-news, some trencher-knight, some 
 
 Dick, 
 That smiles his cheek in years ; and knows the trick 
 
 To make my lady laugh, when she's dispos'd, 
 
 Told our intents before : Which once disclos'd, 
 The ladies did change favours ; and then we, 
 Following the signs, woo'd but the sign of she. 
 Now, to our perjury to add more terror, 
 We are again forsworn ; in will, and error. 
 Much upon this it is : And might not you, 
 
 [ToBoyet. 
 
 Forestal our sport, to make us thus untrue ? 
 Do not you know my lady's foot by the squire,* 
 
 And laugh upon the apple of her eye ? 
 And stand between her back, sir, and the fire, 
 
 Holding a trencher, jesting merrily ? 
 You put our page out : Go, you are allow'd ; 
 Die when you will, a smock shall be your shroud. 
 You leer upon me, do you ? there's an eye, 
 Wounds like a leaden sword. 
 
 Boyet. Full merrily 
 
 Hath this brave manage, this career, been run. 
 
 Biron. Lo, he is tilting straight ! Peace ; I h&te 
 done. i 
 
 Enter Costard. 
 
 Welcome, pure wit ! thou partest a fair fray. 
 
 Cost. Lord, sir, they would know, 
 Whether the three worthies shall come in, or no. 
 
 Biron. What, are there but three. 
 
 Cost. No, sir ; but it is vara Cne, 
 
 For every one pursents three. 
 
 Biron. _ _ And three limes thrice is nine. 
 
 Cost. Not so, sir; under correction, sir; I hope, 
 
 it is not so : 
 You cannot beg us, dr, I can assure yeu, sir; we 
 
 know what we know : 
 [ hope, sir, three times thrice, sir, 
 
 Biron. Is not nine. 
 
 Cost. Under correction, sir, we know whereuntil 
 it doth amount. 
 
 Biron. By Jove, I always took three threes for 
 nine. 
 
 Cost. O Lord, sir, it were pity you should get 
 
 ur living by reckoning, sir. 
 
 Biron. How much is'it ? 
 
 Cost. O Lord, sir, the parties themselves, the 
 actors, sir, will show whereuntil it doth amount : 
 for my own part, I am, as they say, but to parfect 
 one man, e'en one poor man ; Pompion the great, 
 sir. 
 
 Biron. Art thou one of the worthies? 
 
 Cost. It pleased them, to think me worthy of 
 Pompion the great : for mine own part, I know not 
 the degree of the worthy : but I am to stand for him. 
 
 Biron. Go, bid them prepare. 
 
 Cost. We will turn it finely off, sir ; we will take 
 some care. [Exit Costard. 
 
 King. Bir6n, they will shame us, let them not 
 approach. 
 
 Biron. We are shame-proof, my lord : and 'tis 
 
 some policy 
 
 To have one show worse than the king's and his 
 company. 
 
 King. I say, they shall not come. 
 
 Prin. Nay, my good lord, let me o'errule you 
 now; 
 
 (3) Conspiracy. (4) Buffoon. (*) Rule. 
 Z 

 
 LOVE'S LABOUR'S LOST, 
 
 Act T. 
 
 That sport best pleases, that doth least know how: My'scutcheon plain declares, that I am Alisandfr. 
 Where zeal strives to content, and the contents Boyet. Your nose says, no, you are not ; for it 
 
 Die iii the zeal of them which it presents, 
 
 Their form confounded makes most form in mirth ; 
 
 When great things labouring perish in their birth. 
 
 i?'roi. A ri^ht description of our sport, my lord. 
 
 Enter Armado. 
 
 Irm. Anointed, I implore so much expense of 
 
 thy royal sweet breath, as will utter a brace of words. 
 
 1 Armado converses with the King, and delivers 
 
 him a paper. 
 
 Prin. Doth this man serve God ? 
 Biron. Why ask you ? 
 Prin. He speaks not like a man of God's making. 
 
 vfriu. Thai's all one, my fair, sweet, honey 
 
 monarch : for, I protest, the school-master is i-\- . ... 
 
 cecdinc fantastical ; too, too vain : too, too vain : f the painted cloth for this : your hnn, that li 
 But we will put it, as they say, to fortuna fc W/jhispoil-ax sitting on a close-stool, will be give 
 
 Boyet. 
 
 stands too right. 
 
 Biron. Your nose smells, no, in this, most len- 
 der-smelling' knight. 
 
 Prin. The conqueror is dismay'd : Proceed, 
 good Alexander. 
 
 Nath. When in the world I liv'd, I wot the 
 world' 's commander ; 
 
 Boyet. Most true, 'tis right ; you were so, Ali- 
 sander. 
 
 Biron. Pompey the great, 
 
 Cost. Your servant, and Cost&rd. 
 
 Biron. Take away the conqueror, lake away 
 Alisander." 
 
 Cost. O, sir, [To Nath.l you have, overthrown 
 rVlisander the conqueror ? You will be scraped out 
 
 t holds 
 ..... v... ,v^ .^. ^ .. u , ........ I..,...* - . en to 
 
 guerra. I wisTyo'u Uie peace'of mHi^ most roval ! A -J ax >, he , wi11 be ~ f he nillth worthy. A conqueror, 
 couplement! [Exit Armado. an " atcard to speak ! run away for shame, Ahsan- 
 
 At/ig 1 . Here is like to be a good presence of wor- 
 thies: He presents Hector 'of Troy ; the swain, 
 Pompey the great ; the parish curate, Alexander ; 
 
 Armado's page, Hercules ; 
 Machabaeus. 
 
 the pedant, Judas 
 
 And if these four worthies in their first show thrive, 
 These four will change habits, and present the 
 
 other five. 
 
 Biron. There is five in the first show. 
 King. You are deceiv'd, 'tis not so. 
 jSiron. The pedant, the braggart, the hedge- 
 priest, the fool, and the boy: 
 Abate a throw at novum ; ' and the whole world 
 
 again, 
 
 Cannot prick 1 out five such, take each one in his vein. 
 King. The sliip is under sail, and here she comes 
 amain. 
 
 [Seats brought for the King, Princess, fyc. 
 Pageant of the JVine Worthies. Enter Costard 
 arm';/, for Poiuncy. 
 
 Cost. I Pompey am, 
 
 Boyet. You lie, you .ire not he. 
 
 Cost. / Pompey am, 
 
 Boyet. With libbard's head on knee. 
 
 Biron. Well said, old mocker ; I must needs be 
 
 friends with thee. 
 
 Cost. 1 Pompey am, Pompey surnam'd tht big, 
 Dum. The great 
 Cost. It is great, sir; Pompey surnam'd the 
 
 great; 
 That oft infield, with targe and shield, did make 
 
 mil foe to aweal : 
 Aid, Iracelling along this coast, I here am come 
 
 by chance ; 
 Jlnd lay mn arms before the legs of this sweet lass 
 
 of France. 
 If your ladvship would say, Thanks, Pompey, I 
 
 had done. 
 
 Prin. Great thanks, great Pompev. 
 Cost. 'Tis not so much worth ; but, I hope, I 
 was perfect : I made a little fault in, great. 
 
 Biron. My hat to a halfpenny, Pompey proves 
 the best worthy. 
 
 Enter Nathaniel arm'd, for Alexander. 
 
 Nath. When in the world I itc'rf, I was the 
 
 world's commander ; 
 
 fy east, west, north, and south, I spread my con- 
 quering might : 
 
 il) A game with dice. (2) Pick, 
 (3) A Miter's powder-nera. 
 
 and afeard to speak ! run away for shame, t 
 dcr. [Nath. retires.} There, sift shall pleusi 
 a foolish mild man ; an honest, man, look you, and 
 soon dash'd ! He is a marvellous good neighbour, 
 in sooth ; and a very good bowler: bv.t, for AUaan* 
 der, alas, you see, how 'tis ; a little oVrparted : 
 But there are worthies a coming will speak their 
 mind in some other sort. 
 Prin. Stand aside, good Pompey. 
 
 Enter Holofernes arm'd, for Judas, and Moth 
 ann'd,for Hercules. 
 
 Hoi. Great Hercule.t is presented by this imp, 
 Whose club killed Cerbtrus, that 'three-headed 
 
 canus ; 
 Jlnd, when he was a babe, a child, a shrimp. 
 
 Thus did he strangle serpents in his raanus : 
 Quoniam, he seemeth in minvi'Uv , 
 Ergo, I come with this apology. 
 Keep some state in thy exit, and vanish, [Ex. Moth. 
 
 Hoi. Judas I am, 
 
 Dum. A Judas ! 
 
 Hoi. Not Iscariot, ir. 
 Judas I am, ycleped Machabcpus; 
 
 Dum. Judas Machabaeus clipt, Is plain Judas. 
 
 Biron. A kissing traitor : How art thou prov'd 
 Judas? 
 
 Hoi. Judas I am, 
 
 Dum. The more shame for you, Judas. 
 
 Hoi. What mean you, sir ? " 
 
 Bovet. To make Judas hang himself. 
 
 Hoi. Begin, sir ; you are my elder. 
 
 Biron. Well folfow'd: Judas was 
 an elder. 
 
 Hoi. I will not be put out of countenance. 
 
 Biron. Because thou hast no face. 
 
 Hoi. What is this? 
 
 Boyet. A cittern head. 
 
 Dum. The head of a bodkin. 
 
 Biron. A death's face in a ring. 
 
 Long. The face of an old Roman coin, scarce 
 seen. 
 
 Boyet. The pummel of Caesar's faulchion. 
 
 Dum. The carv'd-bone face on a flask. 5 
 
 Biron. St. George's half-cheek in a brooch. 4 
 
 Dum. Ay, and in a brooch of lead. 
 
 Biron. Ay, and worn in the cap of a tooth-drawer 
 And now, forward ; for we have put thee in coun- 
 tenance. 
 
 Hoi. You have put me out of countenance. 
 
 Biron. False ; we have given thee faces. 
 
 An ornamental buckls for fastening bat* 
 Mi 
 
 was hang'd on
 
 Sctnt II. 
 
 LOVE'S LABOUR'S LOST. 
 
 Hoi. But you nave ouUfuc'd them all. 
 Biron. An thou wert a lion, %ve would do so. 
 Boyet. Therefore, as he is, an ass, let him go. 
 And so adieu, sweet Jude ! nay, why dost thou stay? 
 Dum. For the latter end of his name. 
 Biron. For the ass to the Judc; give it him: 
 
 Jud-as, away. 
 
 Hoi. This is not generous, not gentle, not humble. 
 Boyet. A light for Monsieur Judas: it grows 
 
 dark, he may stumble. 
 Prin. Alas, poor Machaba:us, how hath he been 
 
 baited ! 
 
 Enter Armado arni'd,for Hector. 
 
 Biron. Hide thy head, Achilles : hero comes 
 Hector in arm?. 
 
 DUHI. Though my mocks come home by me, I 
 
 Pompey ! Pompey the huge ! 
 
 Dum. Hector trembles. 
 
 Biron. Pompey is mov'd : More Ates, 1 moid 
 Ates ; stir them on ! stir them on ! 
 
 JDwn. Hector will challenge him. 
 
 Biron. Ay, if he have no more man's blood in'* 
 belly than will sup a flea. 
 
 .'Irm. By the north pole, I do challenge thee. 
 
 Cost. I will not fight with a pole, like a northern 
 man ; 3 I'll slash ; I'll do it by the sword : I pray 
 you, let me borrow my arms again. 
 
 Dun:. Room for the incensed worthies. 
 
 Cost. I'll do it in my shirt. 
 
 Dum. Most resolute Pompey ! 
 
 JUoth. Master, let me take you a button-hole 
 lower. Do you not see, Pompey is uncasing for 
 the combat ? What mean you ? you will lose your 
 
 ,~ ...... . j reputation. 
 
 JT^r Hector was but a Trojan in respect of this. $ rm - Gentlemen, and soldiers, pardon me: I 
 
 Jfcw/. Bui is this Hector .' * not combat in my shirt. 
 
 Dum. I think, Hector wns not so clran-timber'd. T \" , ma >' not deny it: Pompey hath 
 
 i. His leg is too bisr for Hector. , made the challenge. 
 
 Dum. More calf, certain. ^rnt. Sweet bloods, I both may and will. 
 
 J>.wt. No ; ho is best indued in the small. ^T** 1 J? hat reason have you lor't ? 
 
 Tne naked truth ot it is, I have no shirt ; 
 
 Jiiron. This cannot be Hector. 
 
 J}um. He's a god or a painter; for he makes faces. 
 
 Arm. The armiputent JMars, of lances 1 the al- 
 mighty, 
 Care Htctoragift 
 
 Dum. A <rilt nutmeg 
 
 Bison. A lemon. 
 
 Long. Stuck with cloves. 
 
 Dum. No, cloven. 
 
 irm. Peace. 
 The ar impotent Mars, of lances thr almiyhly, 
 
 Gave Hector a nft, the htir of lliun ; 
 Jl man so breathed, that certain he WMcti fight, yea 
 
 From morn till night, out of his pati'.ion. 
 I am that flower, 
 
 Dum. ' That mint. 
 
 Lon:. 
 
 Th.it columbine. 
 
 irm. Sweet lord Longaville, rein thy tongue. 
 Long. I must rather give it the rein for it runs 
 
 I go wool ward* for penance. 
 j Boyet. True, and it was enjoin'd him in Rome 
 jfor want of linen: since when, I'll be sworn, he 
 wore none, but a dish-clout of Jacquenetta's ; and 
 that 'a wears next his heart, for a favour. 
 
 Enter Mcrcade. 
 
 Mer. God save you, madam ! 
 
 Prin. Welcome, Mcrcade ; 
 But that thou interrupt'st our merriment. 
 
 .Vfr. 1 am sorry, madam ; for the news I bring. 
 Is heavy in my tongue. The king your father 
 
 Prin. Dead, for my life. 
 
 Mer. Even so ; my tale is told. 
 
 Biron. Worthies, away ; the scene begins to 
 cloud. 
 
 .Inn. For mine own part, I breathe free breath : 
 I have seen the day of wrong through the little 
 
 against Hector. 
 
 Dum. Ay, and Hector's a greyhound. 
 
 Arm. The sweet war-man u^dcad and rotten; 
 sweet chucks, beat not the bonr^ of the buried : 
 when he breath'd, he was a man But I will for- 
 ward with my device : Sweet royalty, \to the Prin- 
 cess.] bestow on me the sense of hearing, 
 
 [Bircn ichispers Costard, j For all your fair endeavours ; and entreat, 
 
 Prin. Speak, brave Hector; we arc much de- Out of a new-sad soul, that you vouchsafe 
 lighted. In your rich wisdom, to excuse, or hide, 
 
 '7rm. I do adore thy sweet grace's slipper. The liberal^opposition of our spirits : 
 
 Boyet. Loves her by the foot. 
 
 Dum. He mav not by tiie yard. 
 
 ho!o of discretion, and I will risjht myself like a. 
 soldier. [Exeunt Worthies. 
 
 King. How fares your majesty ? 
 
 Prin. Boyet, prepare ; I will away to-night. 
 
 Kinif. Madam, not so ; I do beseech you, stay. 
 
 Prin. Prepare, I say. I thank you, gracious 
 lords, 
 
 Arm. This Hector far surmounted Hannibal, 
 
 Cost. The party is Vone, fellow Hector, she is 
 gone ; she is two months on her way. 
 
 .Inn. What meanest liiou ? 
 
 Cost. Faith, unless you play the honest Trojan, 
 the poor wench is rast away 
 chile! bra<r<< in her belly already ; 'tis yours. 
 
 .Jrm. Dost thou infamonize rue among poten 1 
 tates? thou shalt die. 
 
 Cost. Then shall Hector bo whippM, for Jacquc- 
 netta that is quick by him ; and hang'd, i'or Pom- 
 pev that is dead by him. 
 
 "Dum. Most rare Pompey ! 
 
 Boyet. Renowned Pompey ! 
 
 If ovcr-bolclly we have borne ourselves 
 In the converse of breath, your gentleness 
 
 Biron. Greater than great, great, great, great, 
 
 (1) Lance-men. 
 
 (2) Ate v>;a the jodders of discord. 
 
 Was guilty of it. Farewell, worthy lord ! 
 A heavy heart bears not an humble tongue : 
 Excuse me so, coming so short of thanks 
 For my great suit so easily obtain'd. 
 ...., Kins:. The extreme parts of time extremely form 
 - ? s quick; "the All causes to the purpose of his speed; 
 
 And often, at his very loose, decides 
 - That which long process could not arbitrate : 
 And though the mourning brow of progeny 
 Forbid the smiling courtesy of love, 
 The holy suit which fain it would convince ; 
 Yet, since love's argument was first on foot, 
 Let not the cloud of sorrow justle it 
 'From what it purposed ; since, to wail friends lost, 
 Is not by much so wholesome, profitable, 
 
 ( 3) A clown. (4) Clothed in wool, without linen, 
 ' (5) Free to excess.
 
 jU LOVE'S LABOUR'S LOST. .* f. 
 
 As to rejoice at friends but newly found. | Biron. And what to me, my lore ? and what 
 
 Prin. I understand ron not: mv yriefi are' tome? 
 
 double. 1 .Ros. You must be purged too, your sins are rank; 
 
 Biron. Honest plain words best pierce the earl You are attaint with faults and perjury ; 
 of grief; jTherefore, if you my favour mean to get, 
 
 And by these badges understand the king. | A twelvemonth shall you spend, and never rest, 
 
 For your fair sakes have we neglected time, jBut seek the weary beds of people sick. 
 
 PlayMfoul play with our oaths; your beauty, ladies, ' 
 Hath much deform'd us, fashioning our humours 
 Even to the opposed end ol our intents : 
 And what in us hath secm'd ridiculous, 
 As love is full of unbefitting strains ; 
 All wanton as a child, skipping, and vain ; 
 Form'd by the eye, and, therefore, like the eye 
 Full of strange shapes, of habits, and of forms, 
 Varying in subjects as the eye doth roll 
 
 To every varied object in his glance : 
 Which party-coated presence of loose love 
 Put on by us, if, in your heavenly eyes, 
 Have misbecom'd our oaths and gravities, 
 Those heavenly eyes, that look into these faults, 
 Suggested' us to make : Therefore, ladies, 
 Our love being yours, the error that love makes 
 Is likewise yours : we to ourselves prove false, 
 By being once false for ever to be true 
 To those that make us both : fair ladies, you : 
 And even that falsehood, in itself a sin, 
 Thus purifies itself, and turns to grace. 
 
 Prin. We have recciv'd your h Hers full of love; 
 Your favours the embassadors of love ; 
 And, in our maiden council, rated them 
 At courtship, pleasant jest, and courtesy, 
 As bombast, and as lining to the time : 
 But more devout than thi, in our respects, 
 Have we not been ; and therefore met your loves 
 In their own fashion, like a merriment. 
 
 Dum. Our letters, madam, show'd much more 
 
 Dtim. But what to me, my love ? but what to me? 
 Kath. A wife! A beard, fair health, and ho- 
 nesty ; 
 
 With three-fold love I wish you all these three. 
 Dtan. O, shall I say, I thank you, gentle wife ? 
 Kath. Not so, my lord; a twelvemonth and a 
 
 day 
 
 | I'll mark no words that smooth-fac'd wooers say: 
 I Come when the king doth to my lady come, 
 
 than jest. 
 Long 1 . So did our looks. 
 
 Rot. 
 
 \\\- did not, quote 2 them so. 
 
 King. Now, at the latent minute of the hour, 
 Grant us your lores. 
 
 Prin. 
 
 A time, methiuks, too short 
 
 To make a world-without-end bargain in ; 
 No, no, my lord, your grace is pcrjur'd much, 
 Full of dear guiltiness ; and, therefore, this, 
 If for mv love (as there is no such cause) 
 You wilf do aught, this shall you do for me : 
 Your oath I will not trust ; but, po with speed 
 To some forlorn anil nakl hcnnilnuc. 
 Remote from all the pleasure* of the workl ; 
 There stay until the twelve celestial signs 
 Have brought about their nunuiil ixckiming : 
 If this austere in.uoiablc lito 
 Change not your offer minlr in hent of blood ; 
 If frosts, and fasts, Inrd lodging, and thin \vccds, : 
 Nip not the gaudy blossom* of your love, 
 But that it bear this trial, and last love : 
 Then, at the expir.-ition of the year, 
 Come challenge, challenge me by those deserts, 
 And, by this virgin palm now ki*inij- thine, 
 I will be thine ; and till that instant, shut 
 My woful self up in a mourning hcuse ; 
 Raining the tears of lamentation, 
 For the remembrance of my father's rlrath. 
 If this thou do deny, let our hands part ; 
 Neither intitled in the other's heart. 
 King. If this, or more than this, I would deny, 
 
 To flatter up these powers of mine with rest, 
 The sudden hand of death close up mine eye ! 
 
 Hence even then my heart is in thy breast 
 
 (1) Tempted. 
 (3) Clothing. 
 
 (2) Regard. 
 (4) Vehement 
 
 t-sumi: mien Lite Kin;; uuui LU IIM iciuj irumc, 
 
 Then, if I have much love, I'll give you some. 
 
 Dum. I'll serve thee true and faithfully till then. 
 
 Kath. Yet swear not, lest vou be forsworn again. 
 
 Long-. What says Maria 1 
 
 Mar. At the twelvemonth's end, 
 
 I'll change my black eown for a faithful friend. 
 
 Long. I'll stay with patience ; but the time is 
 long. 
 
 JInr. The liker you ; few taller are so young. 
 
 Kiron. Studies my lady ? mistress-, look on me, 
 Behold the window of my heart, mine eye, 
 What humble suit attends thv answer tKere ; 
 Impose some service on me for thy love. 
 
 Ros. Oft have I heard of you. my lord Bir6n, 
 Before I saw you : and the world's large tongue 
 Proclaims you for a man replete with mocks j 
 Full of comparisons and wounding flouts ; 
 Which you on all estates will execute, 
 That lie within the mercy of your wit : 
 To weed this wormwood from vour fruitful brain , 
 And. therewith.",!, to win me, ii you pleasej 
 (Without the which I am not. to" be won,) 
 You shall this twelvemonth term from day to day 
 Visit the speechless sick, and still converse 
 With proaning wretches ; and your task shall be, 
 With all the. fierce_* endeavour of your wit, 
 To enforce the pained impotent to smile. 
 
 Kiron. To move wild laughter in the throat of 
 
 death ? 
 
 It cannot be ; it is impossible : 
 Mirth cannot move a soul in agony. 
 
 Ros. Why, that's the way to choke a gibing spirit, 
 Whose influence is besrot of that loose grace, 
 Which shallow laii'jhin? hearers give to fools: 
 A jest's prosperity lie? in the car ~ 
 Of hinvthat hears it, never in the tongue 
 Of him that makes it: then, if sickly ears, 
 Deaf'd with the clamours of their own dear* 
 
 trroans, 
 
 Will hear your idle scorns, continue then. 
 And I will'have yon, and that fault withal ; 
 Rut, if iiii-v will not, throw away that spirit, 
 And I shall find you empty of that fault, 
 Risrht joyful of your reformation. 
 
 Biron'. A twelvemonth? well, befall ivhat will 
 
 befall, 
 I'll jest, a twelvemonth in an hospital. 
 
 J'i-:,i. Ay, sweet my lord; and so I take my 
 leave. [To the Kin<r. 
 
 King. No, madam : we will bring you on your 
 Way. 
 
 Biron. O ur wooing doth not end like an old play ; 
 Jack hath not Jill : these ladies' courtesy 
 Misht well have made our sport a comedy. 
 
 King. Come, sir, it wants a twelvemonth and a 
 day, 
 
 (5) Immediate.
 
 Seent II. 
 
 LOVE'S LABOUR'S LOST. 
 
 181 
 
 And then 'twill end. Cuckoo, cuckoo, word of fear, 
 
 Biron. That's too long for a play. [ Unpleasing to a married ear .' 
 
 Enter Armado. 
 
 .?rm. Sweet majesty, vouchsafe me, Winter. 
 
 Prin. Was not that Hector ? 
 
 Dut. The worthy knight of Troy. 
 
 drm. I will kiss thy royal finder, and take 
 leave : I am a votary ; 1 have vowed to Jaquenetta 
 to hold the plough for her sweet love three years. 
 But, most esteemed greatness, will you hear the; 
 dialogue that the two learned men have compiled, ! 
 in praise of fh owl and the cuckoo'/ It should 
 have followed in the end of our show. 
 
 Kin%. Call them forth quickly, we will do so. 
 
 inn. Holla! approach. 
 
 Enter Holofernes, Nathaniel, Moth, Costard, and\ 
 others. 
 
 This side is Hicms, winter ; this Ver, the sprincr ; 
 the one maintain'd by the owl, the other by the 
 euckoo. Ver, begin. 
 
 SONG. 
 
 Spring. When daisits pied, and violets blue, 
 .-/?!(/ lady-smocks all silver-while, 
 *1nd cuckoo-buds uf yellow hue, 
 
 Do paint the mtadows with delight, 
 
 The cuckoo then, on every tree, (1) Cool. (2) Wild apples. 
 
 Jaocks married men, fur thus sings lie, 
 
 Cuckoo ; 
 
 Cuckoo, cuckoo, word vf fear, 
 Unpleasing to a married ear ! 
 
 II. 
 
 When shepherds pipe on ozten straws, 
 And. merry larks are ploughmen's 
 
 clocks, 
 
 When turtles tread, and rooks, and dates. 
 +lnd maidens bleach their summer 
 
 smocks, 
 
 The cuckoo then, on ercry tree, 
 Mocks married men, for thus sings he, 
 Cuckoo ; 
 
 III. 
 
 When icicles han* by the wall, 
 
 Jlnd Dick the stiepherd blows hia nail, 
 Jlnd Tom bears logs into the hall, 
 
 Jlnd milk comes frozen home in pail, 
 When blood is nipp'd, and ways befoul, 
 Then nightly sings the staring owl, 
 
 To-who; 
 
 Tu-whit, to-who, a merry note, 
 While greasy Joan duih ketl* the pot. 
 
 IV. 
 
 Whtn all aloud the wind doth blow, 
 Ami coughing drowns the parson's saw, 
 irds sit brooding in the snow. 
 
 ,-lnd Marian's nose looks red and raw, 
 When roasted crabs 2 hiss in the bowl, 
 Thai nightly sf/igs the staring owl, 
 
 To-who ; 
 
 TV-ir/iif, to-who, a merry note. 
 While greasy Joan doth ketl the pot. 
 
 .Jrm. The words of Mercury are harsh after the 
 songs of Apollo. You, that way ; we, this way. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 In this play, which all tiie editors have concur- 
 red to censure, and some have rejected as unwor- 
 thy of o-ur poet, it must be confessed that there are 
 many passages mean, childish, and vulgar: and 
 some which ought not to have been exhibited, as 
 we are told th--y were, to a maiden queen. But 
 there are scattered through the whole many sparks 
 of penius ; nor is there any play that has mora 
 evident marks of the hand of Sha'kspeare. 
 
 JOHNSON.
 
 ( 182 ) 
 
 MERCHANT OF VENICE. 
 
 PERSONS REPRESENTED. 
 
 Puke of Venice. 
 
 Antonio, the merchant of Venice. 
 
 Bussnnio, his friend. 
 
 Salahio, 3 
 
 Salarino, > friends to Antonio and Bassanio. 
 
 Gratiano, ) 
 
 Lorenzo, in love with Jessica. 
 
 Shyloek, a Jeic. 
 
 Tubal, a Jew, his friend. 
 
 Launcelot Gobl>o, a clown, furrant to Shylock. 
 
 Old Gobbo, fatlu'i- to Launcelot. 
 
 iSalerio, u messenger from Venice. 
 I Leonardo, tenant to Jiassanio. 
 
 Balthazar,? servants to Porlia . 
 
 btephano, J 
 
 Portia, a rich heiress. 
 Nerissa, her waiting-maid. 
 Jessica, daughter to Shylock. 
 
 Jtfagntficou cf Venice, officers of the court of Jus- 
 tice, jailer, servants, and other attendant*. 
 
 Scene, partly at Venice, and partly at Belmont, tht 
 scut of Portia, on the continent. 
 
 ACT I. 
 
 SCE-YE /.Venice. +9 street. Enter Antonio, 
 Sularino, and Salanio. 
 
 Jlntonlo. 
 
 J.N sooth, I know not why I am so sad ; 
 It wearies me ; you say, it wearies you; 
 But how I raught it, found it, or came by it, 
 What stuff 'tis made of, whereof it is bcrn, 
 1 am to Icaru ; 
 
 And such a want-wit sadness makes of me, 
 That I have much ado to know myself. 
 
 Salttr. Your mind is tossing on the ocean ; 
 There, where your argosies' with portly sail, 
 Like seniors and rich burghers of the flood, 
 Or, as it were the pageants of the sea, 
 Do overpeer the petty traffickers, 
 That curt'sy to them, do them reverence, 
 As they flv bv them with their woven winsrs. 
 
 Sala'n. "Believe me, sir, had I such venture forth, 
 The better part of my affections would 
 Be with my hopes abroad. I should be still 
 Plucking; the grasp, to know where sits the wind ; 
 Peering in maps, for ports, and piers, and roads ; 
 And every object, that might make me fear 
 Misfortune to my ventures, out of doubt, 
 Would make me sad. 
 
 Solar. My wind, cooling my broth. 
 
 Would blow me to an ague, when I thought 
 What harm a wind too <rre;:t might do at sea. 
 I should not see. the sandy hour-glass run, 
 But I should think of shallows and of flats ; 
 And see my wealthy Andrew dock'd in sand, 
 Vailing- her high-top lower than her ribs, 
 To kiss her burial. Should I ^o to church, 
 And see the holy edifice of stone. 
 And not bethink me straight of dangerous rocks ? 
 Which touching but my gentle vessel's side, 
 Would scatter all her sp:ces on the stream ; 
 Enrobe the roaring waters with my silks ; 
 And, in a word, but even now worth this, 
 And now worth nothing ? Shall I have the thought 
 To think on this ; and shall I lack the thought, 
 
 (1) Ships of large bur-then. (2) Lowering. 
 
 That such a thing, bechanc'd, would make me sad ? 
 But, tell not me ; I know, Antonio 
 Is sad to think upon his merchandise. 
 
 Jlnt. Believe r;r:-, no: I thank my fortune for it, 
 My ventures arc not in one bottom trusted, 
 Nor to one place; nor is my whole estate 
 Upon the fortune of this present year: 
 Therefore, my merchandise makes me not sad. 
 
 Satan. Why then you are in love. 
 
 Ant. Fie, fie ! 
 
 Salan. Not in love neither ? Then let's say, you 
 
 arc sad, 
 
 Because you are not merry : and 'twere as easy 
 For yen to laii^h, and leap, and say, vou are merry, 
 Because you are not sacl. Now, by two-headed 
 
 Janus, 
 
 Nature hath frani'd strange fellows in her time : 
 Some that will evermore peep through their eyes, 
 And laugh, like parrot?, at a bag-piper ; 
 And other of such vineaar aspect, 
 That they'll not show their teeth in way of smile, 
 Though Nestor swear the jest be laughable. 
 
 Enter Bassanio, Lorenzo, and Gratiano. 
 
 Salan. Here comes Bassanio, your most noble 
 
 kinsman, 
 
 Gratiano, and Lorenzo : Fare you well ; 
 We leave you now with hotter company. 
 Solar. I would have staid till 1 had made you 
 
 merry, 
 If worthier friend, had not prevented me. 
 
 Jlnt. Your worth is very dear in my regard. 
 I take it, your own business calls on you, 
 And you embrace the occasion to depart. 
 Solar. Good morrow, my good lords. 
 Bass. Good seniors both, whan shall we laugh? 
 
 Say, y'nt n ? 
 
 You rrrow exceeding; strange : Must it be so ? 
 Solar. We'll make our leisures to attend on 
 yours. [Exeunt Salarino and Salanio. 
 Lor. My lord Bassanio, since you have found 
 
 Antonio, 
 
 We two will leave you : but, at dinner-time, 
 I pray you, have in mind where me must meet. 
 Bass. I will not fail you
 
 MERCHANT. OF VENICE. 
 Act II L Scene 3. 
 
 AS YOU LIKE IT. 
 Act IV Scene 3.
 
 Setnt II. 
 
 MERCHANT OF VENICE, 
 
 113 
 
 Gra. You look not well, signior Antonio ; 
 You have too much respect upon the world : 
 They lose it, that do buy it with much care. 
 Believe me, you are marvellously chang'd. 
 
 *int. I hold the world but as the world, Gra- 
 
 tiano ; 
 
 A stage, where every man must play a part, 
 And mine a sad one. 
 
 Gra. Let me play the fool : 
 
 With mirth and laughter let old wrinkles come ; 
 And let my liver rather heat with wine, 
 Than my heart cool with mortifying groans. 
 Why should a man, whose blood is warm within, 
 Sit like his graiidsire cut in alabaster? 
 Sleep when lie wakes ? and creep into the jaundice 
 Bv being peevish ? I tell thee what, Antonio, 
 I love thee, and it is my love that speaks ; 
 There arc a sort of men, whose visages 
 Do cream and mantle, like a standing pond ; 
 And do a wilful stillness 1 entertain, 
 With purpose to be dress'd in an opinion 
 Of wisdom, gravity, profound conceit ; 
 As who should say, 1 am sir Oracle, 
 .2w//, when I ope my lips, let no dog bark ! 
 O, my Antonio, I do know of these, 
 That therefore only are reputed wise, 
 For saying; nothing ; who. I am very sure, 
 aid almc 
 
 ! Within the eye of honour, be assur'd, 
 JMy purse, my person, my extremest means, 
 Lie all unlock'a to your occasions. 
 Bass. In my school-days, when I had lost n 
 
 shaft, 
 
 I shot his fellow of the self-same flight 
 The self-same way, with more advised watch, 
 To find the other forth ; and by advcnt'ring both, 
 I oft found both : I urge this childhood proof, 
 Because what follows is pure innocence. 
 I owe you much ; and, like a wilful youth, 
 That which I owe is lost : but if you please 
 To shoot another arrow that self way 
 IWhSch you did shoot the first, I do not, doubt, 
 ! As I will watch the aim, or to find both, 
 Or bring your latter hazard back again, 
 And thankfully rest debtor for the first. 
 tint. You know me well ; and herein spend but 
 
 time, 
 
 To wind about my love with circumstance ; 
 And, out of doiilit, you do me now more wrong, 
 In making question of my uttermost, 
 Than if you hud made waste of all I have : 
 Then do but say to me wlmt I should do, 
 iTh.it in your knGwlvtlge jr.ay by me be done, 
 [And I am prer.t- unto it: therefore, speak. 
 In Bchnant i* a lady richly left, 
 
 If they should speak, would almost damn those ears J And she is fair, and, l;urer than that word, 
 Which, hearing them, would call their brothers;, I Of ivondrnus virtues: sometimes 3 from her eyes 
 fool?. ,! did receive fair speechless messages : 
 
 I'll tell thee more of this another tim 
 But fish not with this melancholy bait, 
 For this foal's gudgeon, this opinion. 
 Come, good Lorenzo : Fare ye well, a while ; 
 I'll end my exhortation after dinner. 
 
 Mer name is Porti.i ; noiiiina undervalued 
 To Cato's c]:; lighter, liruUis' Portia. -> 
 Nor is th wide world ignorant of her worth ; 
 For the four winds blow in from every coast 
 Renowned suitors ; and her sunnv locks 
 
 Lor. Well, we will leave you then till dinner- 'Hang on her temples like a golden fleece; 
 
 time : 
 
 I must be one of these same dumb wise men, 
 For Graliano never lets me speak. 
 
 Gra. Well, keep me company but two years 
 
 more, 
 
 Thou shult not know the sound of tliine own 
 I ongue. 
 
 Jlnt. Farewell : I'll grow a talker for this gear. 
 
 Gra. Thanks, i'faith ; ibr silence is only com- 
 mendable 
 
 In a neat's tongue dried, and a maid not vendible. 
 [Exeunt Gratiano and Lorenzo. 
 
 Jlnt. Is that any thing now ? 
 
 Bass. Gratiano speaks an intinite deal of nothing, 
 more than any man in all Venice : His reasons an- 
 as two grains of wheat hid in two bushels of chuff'; 
 you shall seek all day ere you find them ; and, when 
 you have them, they arc not worth the search. 
 
 Jlnt. Well ; tell me now, what lady is this same 
 To whom you swore a. secret pilgrimage, 
 That you to-day prorais'd to tell me of.' 
 
 Bass. 'Tis not, unknown to you, Antonio, 
 How much I have disabled mine estate, 
 By something showing a more swelling port 
 Than my faint, means would grant continuance : 
 Nor do I now make moan to be abridg'd 
 From such a noble rate; but my chief care 
 Is, to come fairly off from the great debts, 
 Wherein my time, something too prodigal, 
 Hath left me gaged : To you, Antonio, 
 I owe the most, m money, and in love ; 
 And from your love I have a warranty 
 To unburthen all my plots and purposes, 
 How to get clear of all the debts I owe. 
 
 Jlnt. I pray you, good Bassanio, let me know it; 
 And, if it stand, as you yourself still do, 
 
 (1) Obstinate silence. (2) Ready. 
 
 Which makes her seat of Bclrnont, Colchds' strand, 
 And many Jasons come in quest of her. 
 
 my Antonio, had I but the means 
 To hold a rival place with one of them, 
 
 1 have a. mind presages me such thrift, 
 That I should questionless be fortunate. 
 
 Jlnt. Thou know'st, that all rny fortunes are at 
 
 sea ; 
 
 Nor have I money, nor commodity 
 To raise a present sum : therefore go forth; 
 Try what my credit can in Venice do ; 
 That shall be rack'd, even to the uttermost, 
 To furnish thee to Belmont, to fair Portia. 
 Go, presently inquire, and so will I, 
 Where money is ; and I no question make. 
 To have it of my trust, or for my sake. [Exeuni. 
 
 SCENE //. Belrnont. Jl room in Portia's 
 house. Enter Portia and Nerissa. 
 
 Par. By my troth, Nerissa, my little body is 
 aweary of thi/great world. 
 
 JVer. You would be, sweet madam, if your mise- 
 ries were in the same abundance as your good for- 
 tunes are : And yet, for aught I see, they are as 
 sick, that surfeit with too much, as they that starve 
 with nothing : It is no mean happiness therefore, to 
 be seated in the mean ; superfluity comes sooner by 
 white hairs, but competency lives longer. 
 
 For. Good sentences, and well pronounced. 
 
 Vtr. They would be better, if well followed. 
 
 Par. If to do were as easy as to know what were 
 good to do, chapels had been churches, and poor 
 men's cottages, princes' palaces. It is a good divine 
 that follows his own instructions : I can easier teach 
 twenty what were good to be done, than be one qf 
 the twenty to follow mine own teaching. The brain 
 
 (3) Formerly.
 
 184 
 
 MERCHANT OF VENICE. 
 
 JlctL 
 
 may derise laws for the blood ; but a hot temper 
 leaps over a cold decree : such a hare is madness 
 Ihe youth, to skip o'er the meshes of good counse 
 the cripple. But this reasoning is not in the fashion 
 to choose me a husband : 6 me, the word choose ! 
 I may neither choose whom 1 would, nor refuse 
 whom I dislike ; so is the will of a living daughter 
 curb'd by the will of a dead father : Is it not hard, 
 Nerissa. that I cannot choose one, nor refuse none >. 
 
 Ner. Your father was ever virtuous ; and holy 
 men, at their death, have good inspirations ; there- 
 fore, the lottery, that he hath devised in these three 
 chests, of gold, silver, and lead, (whereof who 
 chooses his meaning, chooses you.) will, no doubt, 
 never be chosen by any rightly, but one who you 
 shall rightly love. But what warmth is there in 
 your affection towards any of these princely suitors 
 that are already come ? 
 
 Par. I pray thee, over-name them ; and as thou 
 namest them, I will describe them ; and, according 
 to my description, level at my affection. 
 
 Ner. First, there is the Neapolitan prince. 
 
 Por. Ay that's a colt, 1 indeed, for he doth no- 
 thing but talk of his horse : and he makes k a great 
 appropriation to his own good narts, that he can 
 shoe him himself: I am much afraid, my lady, his 
 mother, played false with a smith. 
 
 Ner. Then is there the county 2 Palatine. 
 
 Por. He does nothing but frown ; as who should 
 say, Jin if you will not have me, choose : he hears 
 merry tales, and smiles not : I fear, he will prove 
 the weeping philosopher when he grows old, -"ing 
 so full of unmannerly sadness in his youth. I had 
 rather be married to a death's head with a bone in 
 his mouth, than to either of these. God defend me 
 from these two ! 
 
 Ner. How say you by the French lord, Mon- 
 eieur Le Bon? 
 
 Por. God made him, and therefore let him pass 
 for a man. In truth, I know it is a sin to be a 
 mocker : But, he ! why, he hath a horse better than 
 the Neapolitan's ; a better bad habit of frowning 
 than the count Palatine : he is eveiyman in no 
 man : if a throstle sing, he falls straight a caper- 
 ! with his own shadow : if I should 
 
 ing ; he will fence 
 
 marry him, I should marry twenty husbands : 
 he would despise me, I would forgive him ; for if 
 he love me to madness, I shall never requite him. 
 
 Ner. What say you then to Falconbridge, the 
 young baron of England ? 
 
 Por. You know, I say nothing to him : for he un- 
 derstands not me, nor I him : he hath neither Latin, 
 'French, nor Italian; and you will come into the 
 court and swear, that I have a poor penny-worth 
 in the English. He is a proper man's picture ; 
 But, alas ! who can converse with a dumb show ? 
 How oddly he is suited ! I think he bought his 
 doublet in Italy, his round hose in France, his bon- 
 net in Germany, and his behaviour every where. 
 
 Ner. What think you of the Scottish lord, his 
 neighbour? 
 
 Por. That he hath a neighbourly charily in him ; 
 for he borrowed a box of the ear of the English- 
 man, and swore he would pay him again, when he 
 was able : I think the Frenchman became his 
 aurety, and sealed under for another. 
 
 Ner. How like you the young German, the duke 
 of Saxony's nephew? 
 
 Por. Very vilely in the morning, when he is so- 
 ber ; and most vilely in the afternoon, when he is 
 drunk : when he is best, he is a little worse than a 
 man ; and when he is worst, he is little better than 
 
 (1) A heady, gay youngster. (Z) Count. 
 
 a beast : an the worst fall that ever fell, I hope, I 
 shall make shift to go without him. 
 
 Ner. If he should ofler to choose, and choose 
 the right casket, you should refuse to perform your 
 father's will, if you should refuse to accept him. 
 
 Por. Therefore, for fear of the worst, I pray 
 thee, set a deep glass of Rhenish wine on the con- 
 trary casket : for, if the devil be within, and that 
 temptation without^ I know he will choose it. I 
 will do any thing, Nerissa, ere I will be married to 
 a spunge. 
 
 Ner. You need not fear, lady, the having any 
 of these lords; they have acquainted me with their 
 determinations : which is, indeed, to return to their 
 home, and to trouble you with no more suit ; unless 
 you may be won by some other sort than your fa- 
 ther's imposition, depending on the caskets. 
 
 Por. If I live to be as old as Sybilla, I will die 
 as chaste as Diana, unless I be obtained by the 
 manner of my father's will : I am glad this parcel 
 of wooers are so reasonable ; for there is not one 
 among them but I dote on his very absence, and I 
 pray God grant them a fair departure. 
 
 Ner. Do you not remember, lady, in your fa- 
 ther's time, a Venetian, a scholar, and a soldier, 
 that came hither in company of the Marquis of 
 Montferrat ? 
 
 Por. Yes, yes, it was Bassanio ; as I think, so 
 was he called. 
 
 Ner. True, madam; he, of all the men that 
 ever my foolish eyes looked upon, was the best 
 deserving a fair lady. 
 
 Por. I remember him well ; and I remember 
 him worthy of thy praise. How now ! what news? 
 
 Enter a Servant. 
 
 Sen. The four strangers seek for you, madam, 
 to take their leave : and there is a forerunner come 
 from a fifth, the prince of Morocco ; who brings 
 word, the prince, his master, will he here to-night. 
 Por. If I could bid the fifth welcome with so 
 arood heart as I can bid the other four farewell, I 
 should be glad of his approach : if he have the 
 condition 1 of a saint, and the complexion of a devil, 
 I had rather he should shrive me than wive me. 
 If Come, Nerissa. Sirrah, go before. Whiles we 
 hut the gate upon one wooer, another knocks at 
 the door. [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE ///.Venice. Jl -public place. Enter 
 Bassanio and Shylock. 
 
 Shy. Three thousand ducats, well. 
 
 Bass. Av, sir, for three months. 
 
 Shy. For three months, well. 
 
 Bats. For the which, as I told you, Antonio 
 shall be bound. 
 
 Shy. Antonio shall become bound, well. 
 
 Bass. May you stead me? Will you pleasure 
 me ? Shall I know your answer ? 
 
 Shy. Three thousand ducats, for three, months 
 and Antonio bound. 
 
 Bass. Your answer to that. 
 
 Shy. Antonio is a good man. 
 
 Ba'ss. Have you heard any imputation to th 
 contrary ? 
 
 Shy. "Ho, no, no, no, no ; my meaning, in say 
 ng he is a good man, is to have you understand 
 me, that he is sufficient: yet his means are in sup- 
 >osition : he hath an argosy bound to Tripohs, 
 another to the Indies : I understand moreover upop 
 he Rialto, he hath a third at Mexico, a fourth for 
 England, and other ventures he hath, squan- 
 
 .(3) Temper, qualitie*.
 
 MERCHANT OF VENICE. 
 
 der'd abroad : But ships are but boards, sailors but ! And in the doing of the deed of kind,' 
 men : there be land-rats, and water-rats, water- He stuck them up before the fulsome ewes ; 
 thieves, and land-thieves ; I mean, pirates ; and Who, then conceiving, did in eaning time 
 
 then, there is the peril of waters, winds, and rocks : 
 The man is, notwithstanding, sulficient ; three 
 thousand ducats ; I think I may take his bond. 
 
 Bass. Be assured you may. 
 
 Shy. I will be assured I may : and, that I may 
 be assured, I will bethink me: -Slay I speak with 
 Antonio ? 
 
 Bass. If it please you to dine with us. 
 
 Sky. Yes, to smell pork ; to eat of the habita- 
 tion which your prophet, the Nazarite, conjured 
 the devil into : I will buy with you, sell with you, 
 talk with you, walk with you, and so following : 
 but I will "not eat with you, drink with you, nor 
 pray with you. What news on the Rialto ? Who 
 
 is he comes here ? 
 
 Enter Antonio. 
 
 Bass. This is sienior Antonio. 
 
 Shy. [dside.] How like a fawning publican lie 
 
 looks ! 
 
 I hate him, for he is a Christian : 
 But more, for that, in low simplicity, 
 He lends out money gratis, and brincrs down 
 The rate of usance here with us in Venice. 
 If I can catch him once upon the hip, 
 I will feed fat the ancient grudge I bear him. 
 He hates our sacred nation ; and he rails, 
 Even there where merchants most do congregate, 
 On me, my bargains, and my well-won thrift, 
 Which he calls interest : Cursed be my tribe, 
 If I forgive him ! 
 
 Bass. Shylock, do you hear ? 
 
 Shy. I am debating of my present store j 
 And, by the near guess of fny memory, 
 1 cannot instantly raise up the gross 
 Of full three thousand ducats : 'What of that ? 
 Tubal, a wealthy Hebrew of my tribe, 
 Will furnish me: But soft; How many months 
 Do you desire ? Rest you fair, good siinior ; 
 
 (To Antonio. 
 Your worship was the last man in our mouths. 
 
 2*i.'. Shylock, albeit I nei'her lend nor borrow, 
 By taking, nor by giving- of excess, 
 Yet, to supply the ripe wants 1 of my friend, 
 I'll break a custom : Is he yet possessed, 2 
 HOW much you would ? 
 
 Sky. 
 
 Ay, ay, three thousand ducats. 
 
 Jtnt. And for three months. 
 
 Shy. I had forgot, three months, you told me so. 
 
 Well then, your bond; and, let me see, But 
 
 hear you ; 
 
 Methough', you said, you neither lend, nor borrow, 
 Upon advantage. 
 
 .int. I do never use :f. 
 
 Fall party-colour'd lambs, and those were Jacob's. 
 This was a way to thrive, and iie was blest ; 
 And thrift is blessing, if men steal it not, 
 
 Jlnt. This was a venture, sir, that Jacob *erv'd 
 
 for; 
 
 A thing not in his power to bring to pass, 
 But sway'd and fashion'd, by the hand of heaven. 
 Was this inserted to make interest good ? 
 Or is your gold and silver, ewes and rams ? 
 
 Shy. I cannot tell : I make it breed as fast : 
 
 But note me, signior. 
 Ant. 
 
 Mark you ihis, Bassanio, 
 
 The devil can cite scripture for his purpose. 
 An evil sou!, producing holy witness, 
 Is like a villain with a smiling cheek ; 
 A goodly apple rotten at the heart ; 
 O, what a goodly outside falsehood hath ! 
 
 Shy. Three thousand ducats, 'tis a good round 
 
 sum. 
 Three months from twelve, then let me see the rate. 
 
 Jlnt. Well, Shylock, shall we be beholden to you ? 
 
 Shy. Signior Antonio, many a time and oft, 
 In the Rialto you have rated me 
 About my monies, and my usances : 4 
 Still have I borne it with a patient shrug ; 
 For sufferance is the badge of all our tribe: 
 You call me misbeliever, cut-throat dog, 
 And spit upon my Jewish gaberdine, 
 And all for use of that which is mine own. 
 \Vell then, it now appears, you need my help : 
 Go to then ; you come to me, and jou say, 
 Shyiock, we would have monies ; \ ou say so ; 
 You, that did void your rheum upon my beard, 
 And foot me, as you spurn a stranger cur 
 Over your threshold ; monies is your suit. 
 What should I say to you ? Should I not say, 
 Hath a dog money 7 is it possible, 
 Jl cnr can lend three thousand ducats ? or, 
 Shall I bend low, and in a bondsman's key, 
 With 'bated breath, and whispering humbleness, 
 
 Say this, 
 
 Fair sir, you spit on me on Wednesday last; 
 You spurn' d me such a day ; another time 
 You caWd me dog; a.irf Jfbr these courtesies 
 I'll lend you thus much monies. 
 
 .3nt. I am as like to call thee so again, 
 To spit on thee again, to spurn thee too. 
 If thou wilt lend this money, lend it not 
 As to thy friends (for when did friendship take 
 A breed for barren metal of his friend ? 
 But lend it rather to thine enemy ; 
 Who if he break, thou may'st with better face 
 
 ExacJ the penalty. 
 
 Shy. 
 
 Why, look you, how you storm ! 
 
 Sliy. When Jacob graz'd his uncle Laban's sheep, II would be friends with you, and have your love, 
 This Jacob from our holy Abraham was j Forget the shames that you have stain'd me with, 
 
 (As his wise mother wrought in his behalf,) (Supply your present wants, and take no doit 
 
 The third possessor ; ay, he was the third. iOf usance for my monies, and you'll not hear me : 
 
 *1nt. And what of him ? did he take interest ? 'This is kind I oner. 
 
 Shy. No, not take interest ; not, as you would say, ! vlnt. This were kindness. 
 
 Directly interest : mark what Jacob did. { Shy. This kindness will I show : 
 
 When Laban and himself were compromis'd, Ho with me to a notary, seal me there 
 
 That all the eanlings which were streak'd, and ! Your single bond ; and, in a merry spert, 
 
 pied, .If you repay me not on such a day, 
 
 Should fall as Jacob's hire ; the ewes, being rank, In such a place, such sum, or sums, as are 
 In the end of autumn turned to the rams : E.xpress'd in the condition, let the forfeit 
 
 And when the work of generation was He nominated for an equal pound. 
 
 Between these woolly breeders in the act, !0f your fair flesh, to be cut ofl' and taken 
 
 The skilful shepherd peel'd me certain wands, !In what part of your body pleaseth me. 
 
 (1) Wants which admit no longer delay. 
 
 (2) Informed. 
 
 (3) Nature. 
 2 A 
 
 (4) InteroU
 
 ISC 
 
 MERCHANT OF VENICE. 
 
 Ad II. 
 
 Jlni. Content, in faith : I'll seal to such a bond, 
 And say, there is much kindness in the Jew. 
 
 Bass. You shall not seal to such a bond for me, 
 I'll rather dwell 1 in my necessity. 
 
 Jlnt. Why, fear not, man ; I will not forfeit it ; 
 Within these two months, that's a month before 
 This bond expires, I do expect return 
 Of thrice three times the value of this bond. 
 
 Shy. O father Abraham, what these Christians 
 
 are ; 
 
 Whose own hard dealings teaches them suspect 
 The thoughts of others ! Pray you, tell me this ; 
 If he should break his day, what should I gain 
 By the exaction of the forfeiture ? 
 A pound of man's flesh, taken from a man, 
 Is not so estimable, profitable neither, 
 As flesh of muttons, beefs, or goats. I say, \ 
 To buy his favour, I extend this friendship : 
 If he will take it, so ; if not, adieu ; 
 And, for my love, I pray you, wrong me not. 
 
 Jlnt. Yes, Shyiock, I will seal unto this bond. 
 
 Shy. Then nf'cet me forthwith at the notary's ; 
 Give him direction for this merry bond, 
 And I will iro and purse the ducats straight ; 
 See to my house, leit in the fearful guard 
 Of an unihrifty knave ; and presently 
 I will be with you. [Exit. 
 
 Aiit. Hie thee, gentle Jew. 
 
 This Hebrew will turn Christian ; he trrpws kind. 
 
 Buss. I like not fair terms, and a villain's mind. 
 
 int. Come on : in this there can be no dis- 
 may, 
 My ships come home a month before the dav. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 ACT II. 
 
 SCENE I. Belmont. Jl room in Portia's house. 
 Flourish of cornets. Enter the Prince of Mo- 
 rocco, and his train ; Portia, Nerissa, and other 
 of her attendants. 
 
 Mor. Mislike me not for my complexion, 
 The shadow'd livery of the burnish'd sun, 
 To whom I am a neighbour, and near bred. 
 Bring me the fairest creature northward born, 
 Where Phoebus' fire scarce thaws the icicles, 
 And Itt us make incision 2 for your lore, 
 To prove whos^ blood is reddest, his or mine. 
 I tell thee, lady, this aspect of mine 
 Hatli fear'd 3 the valiant. ; bv my love, T swear, 
 The best-regarded virgins of our clime 
 Have lov'd it too : I would not change this hue, 
 Exr-.pt t.o steal your thoughts, my gentle queen. 
 
 Par. In terms of choice^ I am riot solely led 
 By nice direction of a maiden's eyes : 
 Besides, the lottery of my destiny 
 Bars me th<; right of voluntary choosing. 
 But, if my father had not scanted me, 
 And hsdg'd me by his wit, to yield myself 
 His wifi;, who wins me by that means I told you, 
 Yourself, renowned prince, then stood as fair, 
 As any comer I have look'd on yet, 
 For my affection. 
 
 Mar. Even for that, I thank you ; 
 
 Therefore, I pray you, lead me to the caskets, 
 To try my fortune. By this scimitar, 
 That slew the Sophy, and a Persian prince, 
 
 (1) Abide. 
 
 (2) Allusion to the eastern custom for lovers to 
 testify their passion by cutting themselves in their 
 mistresses' sight. 
 
 That won three fields of Sultan Solyman, 
 I would out-stare the sternest eyes that look, 
 Out-brave the heart most darincr on the earth, 
 Pluck the young_ sucking cubs from the she-bear, 
 Yea, mock the lion when he roars for prey, 
 To win thee, lady : But, alas the while ! 
 If Hercules, and Lichas, play at dice 
 Which is the better man, the greater throw 
 May turn by fortune from the weaker hand : 
 So Is Alcides beaten by his page j 
 And so may I, blind fortune leading me, 
 Miss that which one unworthier may attain, 
 And die with grieving. 
 
 Par. You must take vour chance ; 
 
 And either not attempt to choose at all, 
 Or swear, before you choose, if you choose wrong, 
 Never to speak to lady afterward 
 In way of marriage ; therefore, be advis'd.* 
 
 Mar. Nor will not; come, bring me unto my 
 chance. 
 
 Par. First, forward to the temple ; after dinner 
 Your hazard shall be made. 
 
 jllor. Good fortune then ! 
 
 [Cornets. 
 
 To make me blcss'd'st, or cursed'st among men. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE II. Yenice. Jl street. Enter Launce- 
 
 lot Gobbo. 
 
 I.aim. Certainly my conscience will serve me to 
 run from this Jew, my master : The fiend is at mine 
 elbow ; anil tempts me, savin? to me, Gobbo, Laun- 
 celot Gobbo, good Launcelot, or good Gobbo, or 
 good iMunrelot Gobbo, iise your legs, take the 
 start, run aicay : My conscience says, no ; take 
 heed, lionest Launcelot; take heed, lionest Gobbo; 
 or, as aforesaid, lionest I.auncelot Gobbo, do not 
 run ; scorn running with thy heels : Well, the most 
 courageous fiend uids me pack ; via ! says the 
 fiend ; away ! says the fiend, for the hear ens ; rouse 
 \up a brave mind, says the fiend, anil run. Well, 
 my conscience, hanging about the neck of my heart, 
 says very wisely to me, my honest friend Launce- 
 lot, being an honest man's son, or rather an ho- 
 nest woman's son ; for. indeed, my father did 
 something smack, something grow to, he had a 
 kind of taste : wfll, my conscience says, Launce- 
 lot, bti'ixe iwi ; budge, says the fiend : budge -not, 
 says my conscience : Conscience, say I, you coun- 
 sel well ; fiend, say I, you counsef well : to be 
 ruled by my conscience, I should stay with the Jew 
 my master, who (God bless the mark!) is a kind 
 of devil ; am', to run away from the Jew, I should 
 be ruled by the fiend, who, saving your reverence, 
 is the devil himself: Certainly, the Jew is the very 
 devil incarnation j and, in my conscience, my con- 
 science is but a kind of h-ird conscience, to otfcr to 
 counsel me to stay with the Jew : The fiend gives 
 the more friendly counsel : I will run, fiend ; my 
 heels are at your commandment, I will run. 
 
 Enter old Gobbo, with a basket. 
 
 Gob. Master, young man, you, I pray you; 
 which is the way to master Jew's ? 
 
 Lav.n. \..1?ide.] O heavens, this is my true be- 
 <rott.cn father! who, being more thnn sand-blind, 
 high-travel blind, knows me not: I will try con- 
 clusions* with him. 
 
 Gob. Master young gentleman, I pray you, 
 which is the way to master Jew's ? 
 
 Laun. Turn up on your right hand, at the next 
 
 (3) Terrified. 
 (5) Experiments. 
 
 (4) Not precipitate.
 
 . Sane It. 
 
 MERCHANT OF VENICE, 
 
 187 
 
 turning, but, at the next turning of all, on your 
 left ; marry, at the very next turning, turn of no 
 hand, but turn down indirectly to the Jew's house. 
 
 Gob. By God's sonties, 'twill be a hard way to 
 hit. Can vou tell me whether one Launcelot, that 
 dwells with him, dwell with him, or no ? 
 
 Laun. Talk you of young master Launcelot ? 
 Mark me now ; [aside.] now will I raise the wa- 
 ters TaJk you of young master Launcelot? 
 
 Gob. No master, sir, but a poor man's son ; his 
 father, though I say it, is an honest exceeding poor 
 man, and, God be thanked, well to live. 
 
 Laun. Well, let his father be what he will, we 
 talk of young master Launcelot. 
 
 Gob. Your worship's friend, and Launcelot, sir. 
 
 Lcntn. But I pray you ergo, old man, ergo, I be- 
 seech you ; Talk you of voung master Launcelot ? 
 
 Gob. Of Launcelot, an't please your mastership. 1 
 
 Laun. Ergo, master Launcelot ; talk not of 
 
 Enter Bassanio, with Leonardo, and other fol 
 lowers. 
 
 Pass. You may do so ; but let it be so hasted, 
 that supper be ready at the farthest by five of the 
 clock : See these letters deliver'd ; put the liveries 
 to making ; and desire Gratiano to come anon to 
 
 my lodging 
 
 T ,.,..* rf< 
 
 [Exit a servant. 
 
 Laun. 1 o him, father. 
 
 Gob. God bless your worship! 
 
 Bass. Gramei cy ; Would'st thou aught with me ? 
 
 Gob. Here's my son, sir, a poor boy, 
 
 Laun. Not a poor boy, sir, but the rich Jew's 
 man ; that would, sir, as my father shall specify, 
 
 Gob. He hath a great infection, sir, as one 
 would say, to serve 
 
 Laun. Indeed, the short and the Ion? is, I serve 
 the Jew, and I have a desire, as my father shall 
 
 His master and he (saving- your worship's 
 
 master Launcelot, father; for the young gentleman lrcrerence) arc scarcc cater-cousins': 
 
 (according to fates and destinies, and such odd /^ Kn . To be bricf> the very truth is? that the 
 
 sayings ; the sisters three, and such branches of 
 learning,) is, indeed, deceased; or, as you would 
 say. in plain terms, gone to heaven. 
 
 Gob. Marry, God forbid ! the boy was the very 
 staff of my a.e, rny very prop. 
 
 Latin. Do I look like a cudgel, or a hovel-post, 
 a staft', or a prop ? Do you know me, father ? 
 
 Gob. Alack the day! I know you not, young 
 gentleman : but, I pray you, tell me, is my boy 
 (God rest his soul ! ) alive, or dead ? 
 
 Latin. Do you not know me, father? 
 
 Gob. Alack, sir, I am sand-blind, I know you not. 
 
 Laun. Nav, indeed, if you had your eyes, you 
 might fail of the knowing me : it is a wise father 
 that knows his own child. Well, old man, I will 
 tell you news of your son : Give me your blessing : 
 truth will come to light; murdercannot be hid long, 
 a man's son may; but., in the end, truth will out. 
 
 Gob. Pray you, sir, stand up ; I aru sure, you 
 are not Launcelot, my boy. 
 
 Laun. Pray you, let's have no more fooling 
 about it, but give me your blessing ; I am Laun- 
 celot, your boy that was, your son that is, vour 
 child that shall be. 
 
 Gob. I cannot think you are my son. 
 
 Laun. I know not what I shall think of that : 
 but I am Launcelot, the Jew's man ; and, I am 
 sure, Margery, your wife, is rny mother. 
 
 Gob. Her name is Margery, indeed: I'll be sworn, 
 if thou be Launcelot, thou art mine own flesh and 
 blood. Lord worshipp'd might he be ! what a beard 
 
 hast thou got ! thou hast got more hair on thy chin, 
 than Dobbin my thill-horse 1 has on his tail. 
 
 Laun. It should seem then, that Dobbin's tail jjft 
 
 grows backward ; I am sure he had more hair on 
 his tail, than I have on my face, when I last saw him. 
 
 Gob. Lord, how art thou chang'd ! How dost 
 thou and vhy master agree ? I have brought him a 
 present ; How 'gree you now? 
 
 Laun. Well, well ; but, for my own part, as I 
 have set up my rest to run away, so I will not rest 
 till I have run some ground : my piaster's a verv 
 
 Jew : Give him a present ! 
 am famish'd in his service : 
 
 ive him a halter: I 
 you may tell every 
 
 finger I have with my ribs, father, I am glad you 
 are come; give me your present to one master 
 Bassanio, who, indeed, gives rare new liveries : if 
 I serve not him, I will run as far as God has any 
 ground. O rare fortune ! here comes the man ; 
 to him, father ; for I am a Jew, if I serve the Jew 
 any longer. 
 
 (1) Shaft-horse (2) Ornamented. 
 
 Jew having done me wrong, doth cause me, as my 
 father, being I hope an old man, shall frutify unto 
 j : ou, 
 
 Gob. I have a dish of doves, that I would be- 
 stow upon your worship ; and my suit is, 
 
 Laun. In very briet the suit is impertinent to 
 myself, as your worship shall know by this honest 
 old man ; and, though I say it, though old man, 
 yet, poor man, my father. 
 
 Bass. One speak for both ; W r hat would you ? 
 
 Laun. Serve you, sir. 
 
 Gob. This is the very defect of the matter, sir. 
 
 Bass. I know thee well, thou hast obtained thy 
 
 suit : 
 
 Shylock, thy master, spoke with me this day, 
 And hath preferr'd Ihee, if it be preferment, 
 To leave a rich Jew's service, to become 
 The follower of so poor a gentleman. 
 
 Laun. The old proverb is very well parted be- 
 tween my master Shylock and you, sir ; you have 
 the grace of God, sir, and he hath enough. 
 
 Bass. Thou speak'st it well: Go, father, with 
 
 thy son : 
 Take leave of thy old master, and inquire 
 
 My lodging out : Give him a liven' 
 
 More guarded 2 than his fellows' 
 
 [7*o his follow er*. 
 See it done. 
 
 table, 3 which doth offer to swear upon a book . 
 
 maids, is a .simple coming-in for one man: 
 then, to 'scape drowning thrice ; and to be in peril 
 of my life with the, edtre of a feather-bed ; here 
 are simple 'scapes ! Well, if fortune be a woman, 
 she's a good wench for this gear. Father, come ; 
 I'll take my leave of the Jew in the twinkline ol 
 an eye. [Exeunt Laun. end old Gob. 
 
 Bass. I pray thee, good Leonardo, think on thi. ; 
 These things being bought, and orderly bcstow'd, 
 Return in haste, for I do feast to-night 
 My best-esteem'd acquaintance ; hie thee, go. 
 
 Lfon, My best endeavours shall be done herein. 
 
 Enter Gratiano. 
 Gra. Where is your master ? 
 Leon. Yonder, sir, he walks. 
 
 L Exit Leonardo, 
 
 (3) The palm of the hand extended.
 
 188 
 
 MERCHANT OF VENICE. 
 
 jctJJ. 
 
 Gra. Signior Bassanio, 
 
 Bass. Gratiano ! 
 
 Gra. I have a suit to you. 
 
 Bass. You have obtain'd it. 
 
 Gra. You must not deny ine ; I must go with 
 you to Belrnont. 
 
 Bays. Why, then you must; But hear thee, 
 
 Gratiano ; 
 
 Thou art too wild, too rude, and bold of voice ; 
 Parts, that become thee happily enough, 
 And in such eyes as ours appear not faults ; 
 But where thou art not known, why, there they show 
 Something too liberal :' pray thee, take pain 
 To allay with some cold drops of modesty 
 Thy skipping spirit ; lest, through thy wild beha- 
 viour, 
 
 I be misconstrued in the place I go to, 
 And lose my hopes. 
 
 Gra. Signior Bassanio, hear me: 
 
 If I do not put on a sober habit, 
 Talk with respect, and swear but now and then, 
 We?r prayer-books in my pocket, look demurely ; 
 Nay more, while grace is sayinpr, hood mine eye's 
 Thus with mv hat, and sijrh, and say, amen ; 
 Use all the observance of civility, 
 Like one well studied in a sad ostent 1 
 To please his grandam, never trust me more. 
 
 Bass. Well, we shall see your bearing. 3 
 
 Gra. Nay, but I bar to-night ; you shall not 
 
 gage me 
 By what we do to-night. 
 
 Bass. No, that were pity ; 
 
 I would entreat you rather to put on 
 Your boldest suit of mirth, for we have friends 
 That purpose merriment : But fare you well, 
 I have some business. 
 
 Gra. And I must to Lorenzo, and the rest ; 
 But we will visit you at supper-time. [Exeunt. 
 
 SCEJfE HI. The same. A room in Shylock's 
 house. Enter Jessica and Launcelot. 
 
 Jes. I am sorry thou wilt leave my father so ; 
 Our house is hell, and thou, a merry devil, 
 Didst rob it of some taste of tediousness; 
 But fare thee well ; there is a ducat for thee. 
 And, Launcelot, soon at supper shall thou see 
 Lorenzo, who is thy new master's guest: 
 Give him this letter ; do it secretly, 
 And so farewell ; I would not have my father 
 See me talk with thee. 
 
 Salan. 'Tis vile, unless it may be quaintly or 
 
 der'd ; 
 
 And better, in my mind, not undertook. 
 Lor. 'Tis now but four o'clock; we hare two 
 
 hours 
 To furnish us : 
 
 Enter Launcelot, with a letter. 
 Friend Launcelot, what's the news 1 
 
 Laun. An it shall please you to break up this, 
 it shall seem to signify. 
 
 Lor. I know Vhe hand : in faith, 'tis a fair hand ; 
 And whiter than the paper it writ on, 
 Is the fair hand that writ. 
 
 Gra. Love-news, in faith. 
 
 Laun. By your leave, sir. 
 
 Lor. Whither goest thou 1 
 
 Lau a. Marry, sir, to bid my old master the Jew 
 to sup to-night with my new master the Christian. 
 
 Lor. Hold here, take this : tell gentle Jessica, 
 I will not fail her ; speak it privately ; go.- 
 
 Gcutlcmen, 
 
 [Exit Launcelot. 
 
 Will you prepare you for this masque to-night? 
 I am provided of a torch-bearer. 
 
 Solar. Ay, marry, I'll be gone about it straight. 
 
 Salan. And so will I. 
 
 Lor. Meet me, and Gratiano, 
 
 At Gratiano's lodging some hour hence. 
 
 Solar. 'Tis good we do so. 
 
 [Exeunt Salar. and Salan. 
 
 Gra. Was not that letter from fair Jessica ? 
 
 Lor. I must needs tell thee all : She hath directed, 
 How I .shall take her from her father's house ; 
 What gold, and jewels, she is furnish'd with ; 
 What page's suit she hath in readiness. 
 If e'er the Jew ? her father, come to heaven, 
 It will be for his gentle daughter's sake : 
 And never dare misfortune cross her foot, 
 Unless she do it under this excuse, 
 That she is issue to a faithless Jew. 
 Come, go with me ; peruse this as thou goest : 
 Fair Jessica shall be my torch-bearer. [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE V. The same. Before Shylock's house. 
 
 Enter Shylock and Launcelot. 
 Shy. Well, thou shalt see, thy eyes shall be thy 
 
 judge. 
 
 The difference of old Shylock and Bassanio: 
 What, Jessica ! thou shall not (rormandize, 
 As thou hast done with me : What, Jessica ! 
 Latin. Adieu! tears exhibit my tongue. Most And sleep and snore, and rend ap.parel out ; 
 beautiful Pagan, most sweet Jeu- ! If a Christian 1 Why, Jessica, I say ' . 
 
 do not play the kn'ive, and get t.hee, I am mucn 
 deceived : But, adieu ! th^e foolish drops do some- 
 what drown my manly spirit, adieu ! [Exit. 
 
 Jes. Farewell, good Launcelot. 
 Alack, what heinous sin is it in me, 
 To bn asham'd to be my father's child ! 
 But though I am a daughter to his blood, 
 I am not to his manners : O Lorenzo, 
 If thou keep promise, I shall end this strife ; 
 
 Become a Christian, and thy loving wife. [Exit. 
 
 SCENE IV. The same. 
 
 tiano, Lorenzo, Salarir 
 Lor. Nay, we will slink away in supper-time 
 Disguise us at my lodging, and return 
 All in an hour. 
 
 Gra. We have not made good preparation. 
 Salar. We have not spoke us yet of torch- 
 bearers. 
 
 Laun. WIiv, Jessica ! 
 
 Shy. Who bids thee call 1 I do not bid thee call. 
 Laun. Your worship was wont to tell me, I 
 could do nothing without bidding. 
 
 Enter Jessica. 
 
 Je*. Call you ? What is your will ? 
 
 Shy. I am bid* forth to supper, Jessica ; 
 There are my kevs : But wherefore should I go ; 
 I am not bid for love ; they natter me : 
 
 !!} Gross, licentious. 
 2) Show of staid and serious demeanour. 
 
 _, t _ | But yet I'll go in hate, to feed upon 
 .1 street. Enter Gra- The ltro( ]jo. a j Christian. Jessies., my girl, 
 mo, and Salamo. Look t? my house ._ x ^ ri ,_, ht ,' oat}l J- Q g Q ^ 
 
 There is some ill a brewing; towards rny rest, 
 For I did dream of money-bags to-night. 
 
 Laun. I beseech you, sir, go ; my young master 
 doth expect your reproach. 
 
 Shy. So do I his. 
 
 Laun. And they have conspired together, I will 
 not say, you shall see a masque ; but if you do, 
 
 (3) Carriage^ deportment (4) Invited.
 
 Sctnt VII. 
 
 MERCHANT OF VENICE. 
 
 then it was not for nothing that my nose fell a bleed- Albeit I'll swear that I do know your tongue, 
 ing on Black-Monday last, at sis o'clock i'the Lor. Lorenzo, and thy love, 
 morning', falling out that year on Ash- Wednesday Jc.s. Lorenzo, certain ; and my lore, indeed ; 
 was four rear in the afternoon. For who love I so much ? And now who knows, 
 
 Shy. What ! are there masques ? Hear you me, But you, Lorenzo, whether I am yours ? 
 
 Jessica : j Lor. Heaven, and thy thoughts^ are witness that 
 
 Lock up my doors: and when you hear the drum, thou art. 
 
 And the vile squeaking pfthe wry-neck'd fife, i Jes. Here, catch this casket ; it is worth the pains. 
 
 ,1 am glad 'tis nifjht, you do not look on me, 
 For I am much asham'd of my exchange : 
 But love is blind, and lovers cannot see 
 The pretty follies that themselves commit ; 
 |For if they could, Cupid himself would blush 
 | To see me thus transformed to a boy. 
 
 Lor. Descend, for you must be my torch-bearer. 
 Jen. What, must I'hold a candle to my shames ? 
 
 Th 
 
 Clamber not you up to the casements then, 
 Nor thrust your head into the public street, 
 To gaze on Christian fools with varmsh'd faces: 
 But stop my house's ears, I mean my casements ; 
 Let not the sound of shallow foppery enter 
 My sober house. By Jacob's staff', I swear, 
 I have no mind of feasting forth to-night : 
 But I will go. Go you before me, sirrah ; 
 Sav, I will come. 
 
 Laun. I will 20 before, sir. 
 
 Mistress, look out at window, for all this ; 
 There will come a Christian by, 
 Will be worth a Jewess' eye. [Exit Laun. Even in the lovely garnish of a boy. 
 
 Shy. What says that fool of Hagar's offspring, ha? i But come at once ; 
 
 Jes. His words were, Farewell, mistress; notliingj For the close night doth play the run-away, 
 else. i And we are staid for at Bassanio's feast. 
 
 Shy. The patch is kind enough ; but a huge feeder, 
 Snail-slow in profit, and he sleeps by day- 
 More than the wild cat j drones hive not with me ; 
 Therefore I part with him : and part with him 
 
 hey in themselves, good sooth, are too, too light. 
 [ vVhv, 'tis an ofiice of discovery, love ; 
 I And I should be obscur'd. 
 1 Lor. So are you, swet, 
 
 To one that I would have him help to waste 
 
 His borrow'd purse. Well, Jessica, go in j 
 
 Perhaps, I will return immediately ; 
 
 Do, as I bid you, 
 
 Shut doors after you : Fas? bind, fast find; 
 
 A proverb never stale in thrifty mind. 
 
 [Exit. 
 
 Jes. Farewell : and if my fortune be not crost, 
 I have a father, you a daughter, lost. [Exit. 
 
 SCA"E VI. The same. Enter Gratiano end 
 Salarino, masked. 
 
 Gra. This is the pent-house, under which Lorenzo 
 Desir'd us to make stand. 
 
 Solar. His hour is almost past. 
 
 Gra. And it is marvel he out-dwells his hour, 
 For lovers ever run before the clock. 
 
 Solar. O, ten times faster Venus' pigeons fly 
 To seal love's bonds now made, thin they are won? , 
 To keep obliged faith nnforfeited ! 
 
 Gra. That ever holds : Who riscth from a feast, 
 With that keen appetite that he sits down ? 
 Where is the horse that doth untread again 
 His tedious measures with the nnbatcd fire 
 That he did pace them first ? All things that are, 
 Are with more spirit chased than cnjoy'd. 
 How like a younker, or a prodigal. 
 The scarfed 1 bark puts from her native bay, 
 Hugg'd and embraced by hc strumpet wind ! 
 How like the prodigal doth she return, 
 With over-weather'd rib=. and ragged sails, 
 Lean, rent, and beggar'd by the strumpet wind ! 
 
 jiffr Lorenzo. 
 
 Solar. Here comes Lorenzo ; more of this here- 
 after. 
 Lor. Sweet friends, your patience for mv Ions 
 
 abode ; 
 
 Not I, but my affairs, have made you wait ; 
 When you shall please to play the thieves for wives, 
 I'll watch as long for you then. Approach ; 
 Here dwells my father Jew : Ho ! who's within ? 
 
 Enter Jessica above, in boy's clothes. 
 Jtt. Who are you ? Tell me, for more certainty, 
 
 (1) Decorated with flags. 
 
 Jes. I will make fast the doors, and gild myself 
 With some more ducats, and be with you straight. 
 [Exit, from abate. 
 
 Gra. Now, by my hood, a Gentile, and no Jew. 
 
 Lor. Beshrew me, but I love her heartily : 
 For she is wise, if I can judge of her ; 
 And fair she is, if that mine eyes be true ; 
 And true she is, as she hath prov'd herself; 
 And therefore, like herself, wise, fair, and true, 
 Shall she be placed in my constant soul. 
 
 Enter Jessica, beloio. 
 
 What, art thou come? On, gentlemen, away; 
 Our masquing mates by this time for us stay. 
 
 [Exit with Jessica and Salarino. 
 
 Enter Antonio. 
 
 Jlnt. Who's there ? 
 
 Gra. Sign! or Antonio? 
 
 *inl. Fie, fie, Gratiano? where are all the rest? 
 Tis nine o'clock ; our friends all stay for you : 
 No masque to-nieht ; the wind is come about, 
 Bassanio presently will go aboard : 
 I hnve sent twenty out to seek for you. 
 
 Grc. I am clad on't ; I desire no more delight, 
 Than to be under sail, and gone to-night. (Ext. 
 
 SCE?\"E VII. Belmont. Jl room in Portia's 
 house. Flourish of cornets. Enter Portia, with 
 the prince o/Moroc^o, and both thtir trains. 
 For. Go, draw aside the curtains ? and discover 
 
 The several caskets to this noble prince : 
 
 Now make your choice. 
 
 C'lor. The first, of gold, who this inscription 
 bears ; 
 
 Who cliocsrth me, shall gain what many men desire. 
 
 The second ; silver, which this promise carries ; 
 
 W 'ho chooscth me, shall get as much as he deserves. 
 
 The third, dull lead, with warning all as blunt ; 
 
 Who chonseth me, must ::ire and hazard all he hath. 
 
 How shall I know if I do choose the. riirht ? 
 For. The one of them contains my picture, prince; 
 
 If you choose that, then I am yours withal. 
 Mor. Some god direct my judgment! Let me 
 see, 
 
 I will survey the inscriptions back again : 
 
 W r hat says this leaden casket ? 
 
 Who choosethme, must give atid hazard all he hath. 
 
 Must give For what ? for lead ? hazard for lead 1 
 
 This casket threatens ; Men, that hazard all,
 
 190 
 
 MERCHANT OP VENICE^ 
 
 At II. 
 
 Do it in hope of fair advantages : 
 
 A golden mind stoops not to shows of dross 
 
 I'll then nor give, nor hazard, aught for leac. 
 
 What says the silver, with her virgin hue ? 
 
 Who chooseth me, shall get as much as he deserves. 
 
 As much as he deserves / Pause there, Morocco, 
 
 And weigh thy value with an even hand : 
 
 If thou be'st rated by thy estimation, 
 
 Thou dost deserve enough ; and yet enough 
 
 Mav not extend so far as to the lady ; 
 
 And yet to be afeard of my deserving, 
 
 Were but a weak disabling of myself. 
 
 As much as I deserve ! \Vhv, that's the lady : 
 
 I do in birth deserve her, and in fortunes, 
 
 In graces, and in qualities of breedii>_r ; 
 
 But more than these, in love I do dpsrrvr. 
 
 What if I slray'd no further, but chose here : 
 
 Let's see once more this saying' grav'd in gold : 
 
 Who chooseth me, shall (rain what many me-n desire. 
 
 Why, that's the lady ; all the world desires her : 
 
 From the four corners 01' the earth they come, - 
 
 To kiss this shrine, this mortal breathing saint. 
 
 The Hyrcanian desert*, and the vasty wilds 
 
 Of wide Arabia, are as through- fa re.i now, 
 
 For princes to come view fair Portia : 
 
 The watery kingdom, whoso ambitious head 
 
 Spits in the face of heaven, is no bar 
 
 To stop the foreign spirits ; but they 
 
 As o'rr a brook, to see fair Portia. 
 
 Solan. The villain Jew with outcries rais'd the 
 
 duke ; 
 Who went with him to search Bassanio's ship. 
 
 Solar. He came too late, the ship was under sail . 
 But there the duke was given to understand, 
 That in a gondola were seen together 
 Lorenzo and his amorous Jessica : 
 Besides, Antonio ccrtify'd the duke, 
 They were not with Bassanio in his ship. 
 
 Salan. I never heard a pyssion so confus'd, 
 So strange, outrageous, and so variable, 
 As the do; Jew did utter ia the streets : 
 Jly daughter ! O my duratx ! my daughter ! 
 fled icith a Christian ? my Christian eauttl ! 
 Justice ! the lav ! my ducats, and my daughter .' 
 -9 settled bag, two sealed Jrt/rs of ducat*. 
 Of double ditctits, stolen from mt by my daughter ! 
 Jfnd jewels ; /teo stones, tito rich and prtcioui 
 
 stones, 
 
 .S/o!'n by my daughter ! Justice ! find the <rirl . 
 She hath the stones upon her, and the dvcrtts ! 
 
 Salar. Why, all the boys in Venice follow him, 
 Crying, his stones, his daughter, and his ducats, 
 
 Sown. Let good Antonio look he keep his day, 
 Or he shall pay for this. 
 
 Sclar. Marry, well remember'd ; 
 
 I reason'd 3 with a Frenchman yesterday ; 
 Who 'old me, in the narrow sea?, that part 
 The French and English, there miscarried 
 
 To rib 1 her cerecloth in the obscure grave. 
 Or shall I think, in silver she's immitr'd, 
 Being ten times undervalued to try'd gold ? 
 O sinful thought ! Nerer so rich a crem 
 Was set in worse than gold. They have in England 
 A coin, that bears the figure of an angel 
 Stamped in gold : but that's insculp'd 2 upon ; 
 But here an angel in a goldeo bed 
 Lies all within. Deliver me the key ; 
 Here do! choose, and thrive I as I may ! 
 Par. There, take it, prince, and if my form lie 
 
 there, 
 Then I am yours. 
 Mor. 
 
 [He unlocks the golden casket. 
 O hell ! what have we here ? 
 
 A carrion death, within whose empty eye 
 There is a written scroll ? I'll read the writing. 
 Ill that glisters is not gold, 
 Often have yen heard that told : 
 jifany a man his life hath sold, 
 But my outsidt to behold : 
 Gilded tombs do worms t'ji/W. 
 had you been as wise as bold, 
 Young in limbs, in judgment old. 
 Your answer liad not been bucrolrd 
 Fare you well ; your suit is cold. 
 Cold, indeed : and labour lost : 
 Then, farewell, heat ; and, welcome, frosL 
 
 Solan. You were best to tell Antonio what you 
 
 hear; 
 Yet do not suddenly, for it may grieve him. 
 
 Salar. A kinder gentleman treads not the earth. 
 I saw Bassanio and Antonio part : 
 Bassanio told him, he would make some speed 
 Of his return ; he answer'd Do not so, 
 Slubber* not business f>r my sake, J}assanio t 
 But stay the very run/iff of the time ; 
 *9nd for the Jew's bond, which, he hath of me, 
 Let it not enter in your mind of love : 
 Be tnei-ry, and employ your chief est tliovghtt 
 To courtship, and such' fair os tents* of love 
 Jls shall conveniently become you there : 
 And even there, his eye being big with tears. 
 Turning his face, he" put his hand behind him, 
 And with affection wondrous sensible 
 He wrung Bassanio's hand, and so thev parted. 
 
 Solan. I think, he only loves the world for him. 
 I pray thce let us go, and find him out, 
 And quicken his embraced heaviness* 
 With some delight or other. 
 
 Salar. Do we so. [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE IX. Belmont ? room in Portia's 
 house. Enter Nerissa, with a servant. 
 
 JVer. Quick, quid:, I prav thee, draw the cur- 
 tain straight ; 
 
 Portia, adieu ! I have too eriev'd a heart .The prince of Arra^on has ta'en his oath, 
 
 To lake a tedious leave : thus losers part. [Urif. And comes to his elec-tion presently. 
 Par. A gentle riddance: Draw the curtains, 1 
 
 Lt all of his complexion choose me so. [Exeunt. 
 
 SCEJfE nil. Venice. .1 street. Enter Sala- 
 rino and Salanio. 
 
 Salar. Why man, I saw Bassanio under sail ; 
 With him is Gratiano gone along ; 
 And in their ship, I am sure, Lorenzo is not. 
 
 (1) Encloae. (2) Engraven. (3) Conversed. 
 (4; To slubber is to do a thing carelessly 
 
 Flourish of cornets. Enter the prince o/Arra^on, 
 Portia, and their trains. 
 
 For. Behold,there stand the caskets, nol>le prince: 
 If you choose that wherein I am contain'd. 
 Straight shall our nuptial rites be solemniz'd ; 
 But if you fail, without more speech, my lord, 
 You must be crone from hence immediately. 
 
 ir. I am cnjoin'd by oath to observe three thing* 
 
 15) Shows, tokens. 
 
 (6) The heaviness h* 1$ fond pC
 
 Seme L 
 
 MERCHANT OF VENICE, 
 
 First, never to unfold to any one 
 
 Which casket 'twas I chose ; next, if I fafl 
 
 Of the right casket, never in mv life 
 
 To woo a maid in way of marriage; lastly, 
 
 If I do fail in fortune of my choice, 
 
 Immediately to leave you and be gone. 
 
 Por. To these injunctions every one doth swear, 
 That comes to hazard for my worthless self. 
 
 *ir. And so have I address'd 1 me : Fortune now 
 To my heart's hope ! Gold, silver, and base lead. 
 Who ehooseth me, must give and hazard all he hath : 
 You shall look fairer, ere I <rive, or hazard. 
 What says the golden chest .' ha ! let me see : 
 Who ckooseth me, shall gain what many men desire. 
 What many men desire. That many may be meant 
 Bv tiie fool multitude, that choose by show, 
 Not learning more than the fond eye doth teach : 
 
 1 these deliberate fools ! when they do chooss, 
 They have the wisdom by their wit to lose. 
 
 Aer. The ancient sayinp is no heresy ; 
 Hanging and wiving goes by destiny. 
 
 Por. Come, draw the curtain, Nerissa. 
 
 Enter a Servant. 
 
 Serv. Where is my lady ? 
 Por. Here : what would my lord 7 
 
 Sen. Madam, there is alighted at your gate 
 A young Venetian, one that comes before 
 To signify the approaching of his lord : 
 From whom he bringeth sensible regreets ; 
 To wit, besides commends, and courteous breath, 
 Gifts of rich value ; yet I have not seen 
 So likely an cmbassador of love : 
 A dav in April never came so sweet, 
 
 Wnic!>. pries not to the interior, but, like the martlet, To show how costly summer was at hand, 
 
 Buiid- in the weather on the outward wall, 
 r.vc'i iii the force 2 and road 01' casualty. 
 I :\ ill not choose what many men desire, 
 Because I will not jump 3 with common spirits, 
 A i ul rank me with the barbarous multitude.-). 
 Why, then to thec, thou silver treasure-house ; 
 Toll me once more what title thou dost bear ; 
 Who clioosetk me, skedl get as muck as lie reserves; 
 And well said too : For who shall go about 
 To cozen fortune, and be honourable 
 Without the stamp of merit ! Let none presume 
 To wear an undeserved dignity. 
 O, that estates, degrees, and office?, 
 Were not deriv'd corruptly ! and that clear honour 
 Were purchas'd by the merit of the wearer ! 
 How many then should cover, that stand bare? 
 How many be commanded, that command ? 
 How much low peasantry would then be glran'd 
 From thetrueseed of honour .' and how much honour 
 Fick'd from the chaff and ruin of the times, 
 To be new varnish'd ? Well, but to my choice : 
 Who chooseth me, shall get cs muchas'he (leaf-rets; 
 I will assume de?ert ; Give me a key for this, 
 And instantly unlock my fortunes here. 
 Par. Too "long a pause for thai which you find 
 there. 
 
 As tlii* fore-spurrer comes before his lord. 
 
 Par. No more, I pray thee ; I am half afeard, 
 Thou wilt say anon, he is some kin to thee, 
 Thou spend'st such high-day wit in praising him. 
 Come, come, Nerissa ; for! long to see 
 Quick Cupid's post, that comes so mannerly. 
 
 Ar. Bassanio, lord love, if thy will it be ! 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 ACT III. 
 
 SCENE I. Venice. .? street. Enter Salanio, 
 and Salarino. 
 
 Solan. Now, what news on the Rialto? 
 
 Solar. W r hy, yet it lives there uncheck'd, that 
 Antonio hath a ship of rich lauincr wreck'd on the 
 narrow seas ; the Goodwins, I think they call the 
 place ; a very dangerous flat, and fatal, where tlie 
 carcases of many a tall ship lie buried, as they say, 
 if my gossip report be an honest woman of her word. 
 
 Solan. I would she were as lying a gosip in that, 
 as ever knapp'd pinger, or made her neighbours be- 
 lieve she wept lor the death of a third husband : 
 
 a ,,-v 9, re L , ., . -i , , ,. , . . ,. . B"t it is true, without anv slips of prolixitv, or 
 .Jr. What's here? the ; portrait of a blinking idiot, r crossins lht . plain hi-h-way of talk,-that thenod 
 
 r^^^J^J^l i^te? ll ' Antonio, the honest -Antonio,-O that I had a tille 
 
 good enough to keep his name company ! 
 Solar. Come, the full stop. 
 
 How much unlike art thou to Portia ? 
 
 How much unlike my hopes, and mv deserving* ? 
 
 Who ehooseth me. shall have cto- mvcfi as he deserves. 
 
 Did I deserve no more than a fool's head ? 
 
 Is that my prize ? are my deserts no better? 
 
 Por. To offend, and judge, arc distinct offices, 
 And of opposed natures. 
 .Jr. What is here ? 
 
 The fire seven times tried this ; 
 
 Sete'n times tried that judgment i-s, 
 
 That did never choose amiss : 
 
 Some there be, that shadows kiss ; 
 
 Such hate but a shadow's bliss : 
 
 There be fools alive, I wis,* 
 
 SHver'd o'er ; and so u>as this. 
 
 Take what wife yon will to bed, 
 
 I will ever be your head: 
 
 So begone, sir, you are sped. 
 
 Still more fool I shall appear 
 
 By the time I linger here : 
 
 With one fool's head I came to woo, 
 
 But I go away with two. 
 
 Sweet, adieu ! I'll keep my oath, 
 
 Patiently to bear my wroth. 
 
 [Exeunt Arrasron, and train. 
 Por. Thus hath the candle sing'd the moth. 
 
 (1) Prepared. (2) Power. (3) Agr$e with 
 
 Salan. Ha, what say'st thou? Why the end 
 is, he hath lest a ship. 
 Solar. I would it mi^ht prove the end of his 
 
 Salan. Let ine say amen betimes, lest the devil 
 cross my prayer ; for here he comes in the likeness 
 of a Jew. 
 
 Enter Shylock. 
 
 How now, Shylock ? what news among the mer- 
 chant's ? 
 
 Shy. You knew, none so well, none so well as 
 yon, of my daughter's flight. 
 
 Solar. That's certain ; 1, for my part, knew the 
 tailor that made the wines she flew withal. 
 
 Salan. Anil Shylock. for his own part, knew the 
 bird was fledg'd ; and then it Li the complexion of 
 them all to leave the dam. 
 
 Shy. She is damn'd for it. 
 
 Solar. That's certain, if the devil may be her 
 judge. 
 
 Sky. My own flesh and blood to rebel ! 
 
 Salmi. Out upon it, old carrion ! rebels it at these 
 years / 
 
 (4) Know. 
 
 (& SalaUtions.
 
 MERCHANT OF VENICE. 
 
 ife 
 
 Shy. I say, my daughter is my flesh and blood. 
 
 Solar. There is more difference between thy flesh 
 and hers, than between jet and ivory ; more be- 
 tween your bloods, than there is between red wine 
 and rhenish: But tell us, do you hear whether 
 Antonio have had any loss at sea or no ? 
 
 Sky. There I have another bad match : a bank- 
 rupt, a prodigal, who dares scarce show his head on 
 
 Act I1L 
 
 Tub. Your daughter spent in Genoa, as I heard, 
 one ni^ht, fourscore ducals. 
 
 Shy. Thou stick'st a dapper in me : 1 shall 
 
 never see my gold again : Fourscore ducats at a 
 sitting ! fourscore ducats ! 
 
 Tub. There came divers of Antonio's creditors 
 in my company to Venice, that swear he cannot 
 choose but break. 
 
 the feialto ; a be-gar, that used to come so smug; Shy. I am very glad of it ; I'll plague him ; I'll 
 upon the mart ; let him look to his bond : he was 1 *" 
 
 wont to call me usurer ; let him look to his bond : 
 he was wont to lend money for a Christian courte- 
 sy ; let him look to his bond. 
 
 Salar. Why, I am sure, if he forfeit, thou wilt 
 not take his flesh ; What's that (rood for ? 
 
 Shy. To bait fish withal : if it will feed nothing 
 else, it will feed my revenge. He hath disgraced 
 me, and hindered me of half a million ; laughed at 
 my losses, mocked at my gains, scorr.ed my nation, 
 thwarted my bargains, cooled my friends, heated 
 mine enemies ; and what's his reason ? I am a Jew : 
 Hath not a Jew eyes? hath not a Jew hands, organs, 
 dimensions, senses, affections, passions ? fed with 
 the same food, hurt with the same weapons, subject 
 to the same diseases, healed by the same means, 
 warmed and copied by the same winter and sum- 
 mer, as a Christian is ? if you prick us, do we not 
 bleed ? if you tickle us, do we not laugh ? if you 
 poison us,"ilo we not die ? and if you wrong us, 
 shall we not revenge ? if we are like you in the 
 rest, we will resemble you in that. If a Je-.v wrong 
 a Christian, what is his humility? revenue; If a 
 Christian wrong a Je\v, what should his sufferance 
 be by Christian example ? why, revenge. The 
 
 torture him ; I am glad of it 
 
 Tub. One-of them showed me a ring, that he had 
 of your daughter for a monkey. 
 
 Shy. Out upon her ! Thou torturest me, Tubal : 
 it was my turquoise ; ' I had it of Leah, when I was 
 
 a bachelor : I would not have given it for a wilder- 
 ness of monkies. 
 
 Tub. But Antonio is certainly undone. 
 
 Shy. Nay, that's true, that's very true ; Go, Tu 
 bal, fee me an officer, bespeak him a fortnight be- 
 fore : I will have the heart of him, if he forfeit ; 
 for were he out of Venice, I can make what mer- 
 chandise I will ; Go, go, Tubal, and meet me at 
 
 our synagogue; go, 
 gogue, Tubal. 
 
 good Tubal : at our svna- 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE //. Belmont. Jt room in Portia's 
 house. Enter Bassanio, Portia, Gratiano, Ne- 
 rissa, and attendants, fhe caskets are set cut. 
 Par. I pray you, tarry ; pause a day or two, 
 Before you hazard ; for, in choosing wrong, 
 I lose your company ; therefore, forbear a while . 
 There's something tells me (but it is not love,) 
 I would not lose you ; and you know yourself, 
 Hate counsels not in such a quality : 
 
 villany you teach me, I will execute j and it shall But lest you should not understand me well 
 
 go hard, but I will better the instruction 
 
 Enter a Servant. 
 
 Sen'. Gentlemen, my master Antonio is at his 
 house, and desires to speak with you both. 
 Salar. We have been up and down to seek him. 
 
 Enter Tubal. 
 
 Satan. Here comes another of the tribe ; a third 
 cannot be matched, unless the devil himself turn 
 
 Jew. 
 
 [Exeunt S;tlan. Salar. and Servant. 
 
 Shy. How now, Tubal, what news from Genoa ? 
 bast thou found my daughter ? 
 
 Tub. I often came where I did hear of her, but 
 cannot find her. 
 
 Shy. Why there, there, there, there! a diamond 
 jrone, cost me two thousand ducats in Frankfort! 
 The cursa never fell upon our nation till now ; I 
 never fell it till now : two thousand ducats in that ; 
 and other precious, precious jewels. I would, my 
 daughter were dead at my foot, and the jewels in 
 her ear ! 'would she were hcars'd at my foot, and 
 the ducats in her coffin! Noneivsof them ? Why, 
 so: and I know not what's spent in the search: 
 Why, thou loss upon loss ! the thief gone with so 
 much, and so much to find ths thief; and no satis- 
 faction, no revenge: nor no ill luck stirrin?, but 
 what lights o' my shoulders ; no si?hs, but o' my 
 breathing ; no tears, but o' my shedding. 
 
 Tub. Yes, other men have ill luck too ; Antonio, 
 as I heard in Genoa, 
 
 Shy. What, what, what? ill luck, ill luck? 
 
 Titb. hath an argosy cast away, coming from 
 Tripolis. 
 
 Shy. I thank God, I thank God : Is it true ? is 
 Htrue? 
 
 Tub. I spoke with some of the sailors that es- 
 caped the wreck. 
 
 Shy. I thank thee, good Tubal; Good news, 
 good new*: ha! ha! Where? in Genoa? 
 
 (And vet a maiden hath no tongue but thought,) 
 I would detain you here some month or two, 
 Before you venture for me. I could teach you, 
 Hou 1 to choose right, but then I am forsworn ; 
 So will I never be : So may you miss me ; 
 But if you do. you'll make me wish a sin 
 That f had been forsworn. Beshrew your eyes, 
 They have o'er-look'd me, and divided me ; 
 
 One half of me is yours, the other half yours, 
 
 Mine own, I would say; but if mine, then yours, 
 And so all yours : O ! these naughty times' 
 Put bars between the owners and their rights ; 
 And so, though yours, not yours. Prove it so, 
 Let fortune so to hell for it, not I. 
 I speak loo long ; but 'tis to neize* the time ; 
 To eke it, and to draw it out in length, 
 To stay you from election. 
 
 Bass. ' Let me choose ; 
 
 For, as I am, I live upon the rack. 
 
 Par. Upon the rack, Bassanio? then confess 
 What treason there is mingled with your love. 
 
 Bass. None, but that ugly treason of mistrust, 
 Which makes me fear the enjoying of my love : 
 There may as well be amity and life 
 'Tween srioivand fire, as treason and my love. 
 
 Par. Ay, but I fear, you speak upon the rack, 
 Where men enforced do speak any thing. 
 
 Bass. Promise me life, and I'll confess the truth, 
 
 Par. Well then, 'confess, and live. 
 
 7?<m. Confess, and love, 
 
 Had been the very sum of my confession : 
 happy torment, when my torturer 
 Dotli teach me answers for deliverance ! 
 But let me to my fortune and the caskets. 
 
 Par. Away then : I am lock'd in one of them ; 
 If you do love me, you will find me out. 
 Nerissa, and the rest, stand alJ aloof. 
 
 (1) A precious stone. (2) Del*r,
 
 Semt It. 
 
 MERCHANT Of VENICE. 
 
 Let music sound, while he cloth make his choice ; 
 
 Then, if he lose, he makes a swan-like end, 
 
 Fading in music : that the comparison 
 
 May stand more proper, mv eye shall be the stream, 
 
 And wat'ry death-bed for him : He may win ; 
 
 And what is music then ? then music is 
 
 Even as the flourish when true subjects bow 
 
 To a new-crowned monarch : such it is, 
 
 As are those dulcet sounds in break of day, 
 
 That creep into the dreaming bridegroom's ear, 
 
 And summon him to marriage. Now he goes, 
 
 With no less presence,' but with much more love, 
 
 Than young Alcides, when he did redeem 
 
 The virgin tribute paid by howling Troy 
 
 To the sea-monster : I stand for sacrifice, 
 
 The rest aloof are the Dardanian wives, 
 
 With bleared visages, come forth to view, 
 
 The issue of the exploit. Go, Hercules! 
 
 Live thou, I live : With much much more dismay 
 
 I view the fight, than thou that mak'st the fray. 
 
 J\Iusic, whilst Bassar.io comments on the caskets to 
 himself. 
 
 SONG. 
 
 1. Tell me, where is fancy* bred, 
 Or in the heart, or in the head? 
 Huw beget, hmc nourished 1 
 Reply. 2. It is engendered in the eyes, 
 
 Wi'h gazing fed; and fancy dies 
 In the cradle tchere it "lies : 
 Let us all rinir fancy's knell; 
 
 Pit begin it, Ding, dong, bell. 
 
 All. Ding, dong, bell. 
 
 Bass. S o may the outward shows be least them- 
 selves ; 
 
 The world is slil! deceiv'd with ornament. 
 In law, what plea so tainted and corrupt, 
 But, being season'd with a gracious- 1 voice, 
 Obscures the show of evil ? In religion, 
 What damned error, but some sober brow 
 Will bless it, Diid approve it with n text, 
 Hiding the grossness with fair ornament? 
 There is no vice so simple, but assumes 
 Some mark of virtue on his outward parts. 
 How many cowards, whose hearts are all cs false 
 As stairs of sand, wear yet upon Iheir chins 
 The beards of Hercules, and frowninrr Mars ; 
 Who, inward search'd, have livers white as milk ? 
 And these assume but valour's excrement, 
 To render them redoubted. Look on beauty, 
 And you shall see 'tis purchas'd by the weight 
 Which therein works a miracle in nature, 
 Making: them lightest that wear most of it: 
 So are those crisped* snaky <roklen locks, 
 Which make such wanton gambols with the wind, 
 Upon supposed fairness, often known 
 To be the dowry of a second head, 
 The scull that bred them in the sepulchre. 
 Thus oj-riament is but the guiled* shore 
 To a most daneerous sea ; the beauteous scarf 
 Veiling an Indian beauty ; in a word, 
 The seeming; truth which cunning times put on 
 To entrap the wisest. Therefore, thou gaudy gold, 
 Hard food for Midas, I will none of thee : 
 Nor none of thee, thou pale and common drudge 
 'Tween man and man : but thou, thou meagre lead, 
 Which rather threat'nest, than dolh promise aught, 
 Thy plainness moves me more than eloquence ! 
 And here choose I : Joy be the consequence ! 
 
 Pur. How all the other passions fleet to air, 
 
 (11 Dienity of mien. 
 <S) Winning favour. 
 
 (2)L 
 
 we 
 
 ove. 
 
 Curled. 
 
 As doubtful thoughts, and rash-cmbrac'd despair, 
 And shudd'ring fear and green-ey'd jealousy. 
 
 love, be moderate, allay thy ecstasy, 
 
 In measure rain thy joy, scant this excess : 
 
 1 feel too much thy blessing, make it less, 
 For fear 1 surfeit 1 
 
 Bass. What find I here ? 
 
 [Opening 1 the leaden casket. 
 Fuir Portia's counterfeit ? s What demi-god 
 Hath come so near creation? Move these eyes? 
 Or whether, riding on the balls of mine, 
 Seem tHfcy in motion ? Here are sever'd lips, 
 Parted with sugar breath ; so sweet a bar 
 Should sunder such sweet friends : Here in her 
 
 hairs 
 
 The painter plays the spider ; and hath woven 
 A golden mesh to entrap the hearts of men, 
 Faster than gnats in cobwebs,: But her eyes, 
 How could he see to do them ? having made one, 
 Melhinks, it should have power to steal both his, 
 And leave itaelf unfurnish'd: Yet look, how far 
 The substance of my praise doth wrong this shadow 
 In underprizing it, so far this shadow 
 Doth limp behind the substance. Here's the scroll. 
 The continent and summary of my fortune. 
 
 You that choose not by the vine, 
 Chance as fair, and choose as trut ! 
 Since this fortune falls to yen, 
 Be content and setk no new. 
 If you be well pleas' d teilh this, 
 +ind hold your fortune for yottr blist, 
 Turn i/on where yov.r lady is, 
 Jlnd claim her with a loving kiss. 
 
 A gentle scroll ; Fair lady, by your leave : 
 
 [Kissing her. 
 
 1 come by note, to <rive, and to receive. 
 Like one of two contending in a prize, 
 That thinks he halh done well in people's eyes, 
 Hearing applause, and universal shout, 
 Giddy in spirit, still gazing, in a doubt 
 Whether those peals of praise be his or ne { 
 So, thrice-fair lady, stand I, even so ; 
 As doubtful whether what I see be true, 
 Unt'l confirm'd, sign'd, ratified by you. 
 
 Par. Y r ou see me, lord Bassamo, where I stand, 
 Such as I am : thoush, for myself alone, 
 I would not he ambitious in my wish, 
 To wish myself much better; yet, for you, 
 1 would be trebled twenty limes myself; 
 A thousand times more fair, ten thousand times 
 More rich ; 
 
 That only to stand high on your account. 
 I might in virtues, beauties, livings, friends, 
 Exceed account : but the full sum of me 
 Is sum of something- ; which, to term in frross, 
 Is an unlesson'd girl, unschool'd, unpractis'd : 
 Happy in this, she is not yet so old 
 But she may learn ; and happier than this, 
 She is not bred so dull but she can learn ; 
 Happiest of all, is, that her gentle spirit 
 Commits itself to yours to be directed, 
 As from her lord, her governor, her king. 
 Myself, and what is mine, to you, and yours 
 Is now converted ; but now I'was the lord 
 Of this fair mansion, master of my servants, 
 Queen o'er myself; and even now, but now, 
 This house, these servants, and this same myself, 
 Are yours, my lord ; I eive them with this ring ; 
 Which when you part from, lose, or give away, 
 Let it presage the ruin of your love, 
 And be my vantage to exclaim on you. 
 
 (5) Treacherous. (6) LikcucM, pertrut. 
 2 B
 
 MERCHANT OF VENICfi. 
 
 Jift nr. 
 
 Bass. Madam, you have bereft me of all words, 
 Only my blood speaks to you in my veins : 
 Ana there is such confusion in rny powers, 
 As, after some oration fairly spoke 
 By a beloved prince, there doth appear 
 Among the buzzinjr pleased multitude ; 
 Where every something, being blent 1 together, 
 Turns to a wild of nothing, save of jov, 
 Express'd, and not express'd : But when this ring 
 Parts from this finger, then parts life from hence ; 
 O, then be bold to say, Bassanio's dead. , 
 
 .tor. My lord and lady, it is now our time, 
 That have stood by, and seen our wishes prosper, 
 To cry, $;ood joy ;" Good joy, my lord, and lady! 
 
 Gra. My lord Bassanio, and my gentle lady ! 
 I wish you all the joy that you can wish ; 
 For. I am sure, you can wish none from me : 
 And, when your honours mean to solemnixe 
 The bargain of your faith, I do beseech you 
 Even at that time I may be married too. 
 
 Bass. With all my heart, so thou canst get a wife. 
 
 Gra. I thank your lordship; you have got me one. 
 My eyes, my lord, can look* ns swift as yours : 
 You saw the mistress, I beheld the maid ; 
 You lov'd, I loy'd ; for intermission 2 
 No more pertains to me, my lord, than you. 
 Your fortune stood upoii Hie caskets there ; 
 And so did mine too. as the matter falls : 
 For wooing here, until I sweat again ; 
 And swearing, till my very roof was dry 
 With oaths of love ; at last, if promise lasi, 
 I got a promise of this fair one here, 
 To have her love, provided that your fortune 
 Achiev'd her mistress. 
 
 Achiev'd her mistress. 
 Par. 
 
 Is this true, Ncrissa ? 
 
 .Ver. Madam, it is, so you stand pleas'd withal. 
 
 Bass. And do you, Gratiaoo, mean good faith? 
 
 Gra. Yes, 'faith, my lord. 
 
 Bass. Our feast shall be much honour'd in your 
 marriage. 
 
 Gra. We'll play with them, the first boy for a 
 thousand ducats. 
 
 .\Vr. What, and stake down ? 
 
 Gra. No ; we shall ne'er win at that sport, and 
 
 stake down. 
 
 But who comes here ? Lorenzo, and his infidel ? 
 What, my old Venetian friend, Salerio ? 
 
 Enter Lorenzo, Jessica, and Salerio. 
 
 Bass. Lorenzo, and Salerio, welcome hither ; 
 If that the youth of my new interest here 
 Have power to bid you welcome : By your leave, 
 I bid mv very friends and countrymen, 
 Sweet Portia, welcome. 
 
 For. So do I, my lord ; 
 
 They are entirely welcome. 
 
 Lor. I thank your honour:- -For my part, my 
 
 lord, 
 
 My purpose was not to have seen you here ; 
 But meeting with Salerio by the way, 
 He did entreat me, past all saying nay, 
 To come with him along. 
 
 Sale. I did, my lord, 
 
 And I have reason for it. Signior Antonio 
 Commends him to you. \Gives Bassanio a lettet. 
 
 Bass. Ere I ope his letter, 
 
 I pray you, tell me how my good friend doth. 
 
 Sale. Not sick, my lord, unless it be in mind ; 
 Nor well, unless in mind : his letter there 
 Will show you his estate. 
 
 Gra. Ncrissa, coeer von' stranger; bid her wel- 
 
 Your hand, Salerio ; What's the news from Venice 7 
 How doth that royal merchant, good Antonio ? 
 I know, he will be glad of our success ; 
 We are the Jasons, we have won the fleece. 
 
 Sale. 'Would you had won the fleece that he 
 hath lost ! 
 
 Por. There are some shrewd contents in yon' 
 
 same paper, 
 
 That steal the colour from Bassanio's cheek : 
 Some dear friend dead ; else nothing in the world 
 Could turn so much the constitution 
 Of any constant man. What, worse and worse? 
 With leave, Bassanio ; I am half yourself, 
 And I must freely have the half cf any tiling 
 That this same paper brings you. 
 
 Bass. O sweet Portia, 
 
 Here are a few of the unpleasant'st words, 
 That ever blotted paper ! Gentle lady, 
 When I did first impart my love to you, 
 I freely told you, all the wealth I had 
 Ran in my veins, I was a gentleman ; 
 And thenl told you true : and yet. denr lady, 
 Rating myself at nothing, you shull see 
 How much I was a bra fiu-art : When I told vou 
 My state was nothing, I should then have told you 
 That I was worse than nothing ; for, indeed, 
 I have engag'd myself to a dear friend, 
 Engag'd my friend to his mere enemy, 
 To feed my means. Here is a letter, lady ; 
 The paper as the body of my friend, 
 And every word in it a gap jug wound. 
 Issuing life-blood. But is it true, Salerio? 
 Have all his ventures fail'd ? What, not one hit? 
 From Tripolis, from Mexico, and England, 
 From Lisbon, Barbary, and India ? 
 And not one vessel 'scape the dreadful touch 
 
 Of merchant-marring rocks? 
 Sale. 
 
 Not one, my lord. 
 
 (U Blende* 
 
 ause, delay. 
 
 Besides, it should appear, that if he had 
 The present money to discharge the Jew, 
 He \vould not take it : Never did I know 
 A creature, that did bear the shape of man, 
 So keen and greedy to confound a man : 
 He plies the duke at morning, and at night: 
 And doth impeach the freedom of the state, 
 If they deny him justice : twenty merchants, 
 The duke himself, and the magnificoes 3 
 Of greatest port ? have all persuaded with him ; 
 But none can drivn him from the envious plea 
 Of forfeiture, of justice, and his bond. 
 
 Jes. When I was with him, I have heard him 
 
 swear, 
 
 To Tubal, and to Chus, his countrymen, 
 That he would rather have Antonio's flesh, 
 Than twenty times the value of the sum 
 That he did owe him : and I know, my lord, 
 If law, authority, and power deny not, 
 It will go hard with poor Antonio. 
 
 Por. Is it your dear friend, that is thus in trouble? 
 
 Bass. The dearest friend to me, the kindest man, 
 (The best conditipn'd and unwearied spirit 
 ; In doincr courtesies ; and one in whom 
 
 The ancient Roman honour more appears, 
 I Than any that, drs'vs breath in Italy. 
 
 Por. What sum owes he the Jew ? 
 Bass. For me, three thousand ducats. 
 
 Por. What, no more ? 
 
 Pay him six thousand, and deface the bond ; 
 Double six thousand, and then treble that, 
 Before a friend of this description 
 Shall lose a hair through Bassanio's fault. 
 First, go with me to church, and call me wife : 
 
 (3) The chief men.
 
 Scene ill. 
 
 MERCHANT OF VENICE. 
 
 And then away to Venice to your friend ; 
 For never shall you lie by Portia's side 
 With an unquiet soul. You shall have gold 
 To pay the petty debt twenty times over : 
 When it is paid, brincr your true friend along: 
 My maid Xcrissa, and'myself, mean time, 
 Will live as maids and widows. Come, away; 
 For you shall hence upon your wedding-day : 
 Bid your friends welcome, show a merry cheer :' 
 Since you are dear bought, I will love you dear. 
 But let me hear thejctter of your friend. 
 
 Bass. [Reads.] Sweet Bassanic, my ships hare 
 all miscarried, my creditors grow cruet, my estate 
 is very loir, my bond to the Jeir is forfeit; and 
 since, in paying it, it in impossible I should live, 
 all debts are cleared bttirten you and I, if I miglU 
 but see you at my dedh: nohcithstandi; 
 your pleasure: if your lore do not persuade you to 
 come, let not my letter. 
 
 Par. O love, despatch all business, and be gone. 
 
 JSC,V IV. Belmont. A room, m Portia's 
 house. Enter Portia, Nerissa, Lorenzo, Jessica, 
 and Balthazar. 
 
 Lor. Madam, although I speak it in your pre- 
 sence, 
 
 You have a noble and a true conceit 
 Of god-like amity ; which appears most strongly 
 In bearing thus the absence of your lord. 
 But, if you knew to whom you show this honour. 
 How true a gentleman you send relief, 
 How dear a lover of my- lord your husband, 
 I know, you would be prouder of the work, 
 Than customary bounty can enforce you. 
 
 Par. I never did repent for doing: good, 
 Nor shall not now : for in companions 
 That do converse and waste the time together, 
 Whose souls do bear an equal yoke of love, 
 There must be needs a like proportion 
 Of lineaments, of manners, and of spirit ; 
 
 Bass. Since I have your good leave to <ro away, Which makes me think, that this Antonio, 
 
 I will make haste': But, till I come again, ' j Being the bosom lover of my lord. 
 No bed shall e'er be guilty of my stay, Must needs be like my lord :' If it be 
 
 No rest be interposer 'twixt us twain. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE III. Venice. .1 atrett. Enter Shylock, 
 Salanio, Antonio, and Gaoler. 
 
 Shy. Gaoler, look to him ; Tell not me of Lorenzo, I commit into your hands 
 
 mercy ; 
 
 This is the fool that lent out money gratis ; 
 Gaoler, look to him. 
 
 .Int. 
 
 Hear me yet, good Shylock. 
 
 Xhy. I'll have my bond ; speak not against my 
 
 bond; 
 
 I have sworn an oath, that I will have my bond : 
 Thou call'dst me dog-, before thou had'st a cause : 
 But, since I am a dog, beware my fan<r c : 
 The duke shall grant me justice. I do wonder, 
 Thou naughty gaoler, that thou art so fond 2 
 To come abroaa with him at his request. 
 
 Ant. I pray thee, hear me speak. 
 
 Shy. I'll have my bond ; I will not hear thee 
 
 speak : 
 
 I'll have my bond ; and therefore speak no more. 
 I'll not be made a soft and dull-ey'd fool, 
 To shake the head, relent, and sigh, and yield 
 To Christian intercessors. Follow not ; " 
 I'll have no speaking ; I will have my bond. 
 
 [Exit Shylock. 
 
 Satoi. It is the most impenetrable cur, 
 That ever kept with men. 
 
 Ant. Let him alone, 
 
 I'll follow him no more with bootless prayers. 
 He seeks my life ; his reason well 1 know ; 
 I oft deliver'd from his forfeitures 
 Many that have at times made.moan to me ; 
 Therefore he hates me. 
 
 Salan. I am sure, the duke 
 
 Will never grant this forfeiture to hold. 
 
 Ant. The duke cannot deny the coarse of law. 
 For the commodity that strangers have 
 With us in Venice, if it be denied, 
 "\Vill much impeach the justice of the state; 
 Since that the trade and profit of the city 
 Consisteth of all nations. Therefore, go: 
 These griefs and losses have so 'bated me, 
 That I shall hardly spare a pound of flesh 
 
 To-morrow to my bloody creditor. 
 
 Well, gaoler, on : Pray God, Bassanio come 
 To see me par this debt, and then I care not ! 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 How little is the cost I have bestow'd, 
 In purchasing the semblance of my soul 
 From out the state of hellish cruelty? 
 This comes too near the praising of myself; 
 Therefore no more of it : hear other things. 
 
 (1) Face. 
 
 (2) Foolish. 
 
 The husbandry and manage of my house, 
 
 Until my lord's return : for mine own part, 
 
 I have toward heaven breath'd a secret TOW 
 
 To live in prayer and contemplation, 
 
 Only attended by Nerissa here, 
 
 Until her husband and my lord's return : 
 
 There is a monastery two miles off. 
 
 And there we will abide. I do desire you, 
 
 Not to deny this imposition ; 
 
 The which my love, and some necessity, 
 
 Now lays upon you. 
 
 Lor. Madam, with all my heart; 
 
 I shall obey you in all fair commands. 
 
 Por. My people do already know my mind, 
 And will acknowledge you and Jessica 
 Iti place of lord Bassanio and myself. 
 So fare vou well, till we shall meet again. 
 
 Lor. Fair thoughts, and happy hours, attend on 
 you. 
 
 Jes. I wish your ladyship all heart's content. 
 
 Por. I thank you for your wish, and am well 
 pleas'd 
 
 To wish it back on you : fare you well, Jessica 
 
 [Exeunt Jessica and Lorenzo. 
 Now, Balthazar, 
 
 As I have ever found thee honest, true, 
 So let me find thee still : Take this same letter. 
 And use thou all the endeavour of a man, 
 In speed to Padua ; see thou render this 
 Into my cousin's hand, doctor Bdlario ; 
 And, look, what notes and irarments he doth snye 
 
 thee. 
 
 Bring them, I pray thee, with ima?in'd speed 
 Unto the tranect, to the common ferry 
 Which trades to Venice : waste no time in words, 
 But pet thee gone ; I shall be there before thee. 
 
 Ballh. Madam, I go with all convenient speed. 
 
 [Exit. 
 
 Por. Come on, Nerissa ; I have work in hand, 
 That you yet know not of: we'll see our husbands, 
 Before they think of us. 
 
 .Ver. Shall they sec us? 
 
 Por. They shall, Nerissa : out in such a habit, 
 Tha trey ji think we ar* accomplished 
 Wit/3 wrm ^re i&es. it, ;*. ;hee any wazer,
 
 TP6 
 
 MERCHANT CF VENICE. 
 
 wfc* IV 
 
 When we are both accoutred like young men, 
 
 I'll prove Uie prettier fellow of the two, 
 
 And wear my dagger with the braver grace ; 
 
 And speak, between the change of man and boy, 
 
 With a reed voice ; and turn two mincing steps 
 
 Into a manly stride ; and speak of frays, 
 
 Like a fine bragg!n!r youth : and tell quaint lies, 
 
 How honourable ladies sought my love, 
 
 Which I denying, they fell sick and died ; 
 
 I could not do withal ; then I'll repent 
 
 And wish, for all that, that I had not kill'd them : 
 
 And twenty of these puny lies I'll tell, 
 
 That men shall swear I have discontinued school 
 
 Above a twelvemonth : I have within my mind 
 
 A thousand raw tricks of these bragging Jacks, 
 
 Which I will practise. 
 
 .Ver. Why, shall we turn to men ? 
 
 Par. Fie! what a question's t'nnt, . 
 If thou wert near a lewd interpreter? 
 But come, I'll tell thee all my whole device 
 When I am in my coach, which stays for us 
 At the park gate ; and therefore haste away, 
 For we must measure twenty miles to-day. [Ext. 
 
 SCENE r.The same. .<? Garden. Enter 
 Launcelot and Jessica. 
 
 Lnm. Yes, truly: for, look you, the sins of 
 the father are to be laid upon the children : there- 
 fore, I promise you, I fear yott. I WHS always? plain 
 
 silence ; and discourse grow commendable in none 
 only but parrots. Go in, sirrah ; bid them prepare 
 for dinner. 
 
 Laun. That is done, sir; they have all stomachs. 
 
 Lor. Goodlv lord, what a wit-snapper are you! 
 then bid them prepare dinner. 
 
 Laun. That is done too, sir ; only, cover is the 
 word. 
 
 Lor. Will you cover then, sir? 
 
 Laun. Not so, sir, neither ; I know my duty-,. 
 
 Lor. Yet more quarrelling with occasion ! \Vilt 
 thou show the whole wealth of thy wit in an in- 
 stant? I pray thec, understand a plain man in his 
 plain meaning: go to thy fellows ; bid them cover 
 the table, serve m the meat, and we will come in 
 to dinner. 
 
 Laun. For the table, sir, it shall be- served in ; 
 for the meat, sir, it shall be covered ; for your 
 coming in to dinner, sir, why, let it be as humours 
 and conceits shall govern. [Exit Launcelot. 
 
 Lor. O dear discretion, how his words are 
 
 suited ! 
 
 The fool hath planted in his memory 
 An army of good words ; And I do know 
 A many fools, that stand in better place, 
 Garnish'd like him, that for a tricksy word 
 
 in matter. How cheer'st thou Jessica? 
 And now, good pwect, say thv opinion, 
 How dost thou like the lord Uassanio's wife ? 
 
 Past all expressing : It is very meet. 
 The lord Bassanio live an upright life ; 
 For, having such a blessing in his lady. 
 
 with vou, and so now I speak my agitation of the 
 
 matte'r : Therefore, be of good cheer ; for, truly, 
 I think, vou are damn'd. There is but one hope in 
 
 father got **", ttat jon arc not tic ft*', 
 
 so the sins of my mother should be vi.sii.ed upon me. 
 
 made me a Christian. 
 Laun. Truly, 1 he more to blame he: we were 
 
 Lor. No, pray thec, let it servo for table-talk, 
 
 IM i,i. i my, ine m w ui: "f-iA Then, howsoe'er thou epeak'st, 'mong other things 
 
 Christians cr.ougn before; c-en as many as_coiud , s i la n Digest it. 
 welllivp, one byanotlur: This making of Christians r n T ,n t / ,, rr 
 
 will raise the price of hc^s ; if we grow all to be Jes ' el! ' ll > ou forth ' t l '' 
 
 pork-eaters, we shall not shortly hive a rasher on I ^ 
 
 ACT IV. 
 
 SCEN2 I. Venice. Jl court of Justice. Enter 
 the Duke, the Jlaznifiroes ; Antonio, Bassanio, 
 Gratiano, Salarino, Salanio, and others. 
 
 the coals for money. 
 
 Enter Lorenzo. 
 
 Jes. I'll tell my husband, Launedof, what you 
 say ; here he comes. 
 
 Lor. I shall grow jealous of yon shortly, Launce- 
 lot. if you Ihsis pet niv wife into corners. 
 
 /. Nay, von need not foar us, Lorenzo; 
 Launeelot anal are out: he tells me flatly, there 
 is no mercy for me in heaven, because lama Jew's 
 daughter : and he says, you are no {rood member 
 of the commonwp alih ; for, in converting Jews to 
 Christians, you raise the price of pork. 
 
 Lor. I shall answer that better to the common- 
 wealth, than you can the srftini; up of the nep-ro's 
 belly : the Moor is with child by you, Launcelot. 
 
 Laun. It is much, that the Moor should be more 
 than reason : hut if she be less than an honest 
 woman, she is, indeed, more than I took her for. 
 
 Lor. How every fool can play upon the word ! _ . 
 I think, the best grace of wit will shortly turn into To suffer, with a quietness of spirit, 
 
 The very tyranny and racre of his. 
 (1) Hatred, malice. Duke, Go one, and call the Jew lets? Utt cgurt. 
 
 What, is Antonio here ? 
 Jlnt. Ready, so please your grace. 
 Dukt. I am sorry for thee ; thou art coie to an- 
 
 sivcr 
 
 A stony adversary, an inhuman wretch 
 Uncapable of pity, void and empty 
 
 umr4.M*wM? wm t'*"J j fvwi al 
 
 From any dram of mercy. 
 
 Ant. 
 
 I have heard. 
 
 Your grace hath ta'en crcat pains to qualify 
 
 His rigorous course ; but since he stands obdurate, 
 
 And th.it no lawful mean can carry me 
 
 Out of his envy's 1 reach, I do oppose 
 
 My patience to his fury ; and am arm'd
 
 Selen. He's ready at the door : he comes, my lord. 
 Enter Shylock. 
 
 Duke. Make room, and let liim stand before our 
 
 face. 
 
 Shylock, the world thinks, and I think so too, 
 That thou but lead'st this fashion of thy malice 
 To the last hour of act ; and then, 'tis thought 
 Thou'lt show thy mercy and remorse, 1 more strange 
 Than is thy strange apparent 2 cruelty : 
 And where 1 thou now exaet'stthc penalty 
 (Which is a pound of this poor merchant's flesh,) 
 Thou wilt not only lose the forfeiture, 
 But touch'd with human gentleness and love, 
 Forgive a moiety of the principal ; 
 Glancing an eye of pity on his losses, 
 That have of late so huddled on his back ; 
 Enough to press a royal merchant down, 
 And pluck commiseration of his state 
 From brassy bosoms, and rough hearts of flint, 
 From stubborn Turks, and Tartars, never train'd 
 To offices of tender courtesy. 
 We all expect a gentle answer, Jew. 
 
 Shy. I have possess'd your grace of what I pur- 
 pose ; 
 
 And by our holy sabbath have I sworn, 
 To have the due and forfeit of my bond. 
 If you deny it, let the danger light 
 Upon your charter, and your city's freedom. 
 You'll ask me, w_hy I rather choose to have 
 A weight of carrion flesh, than to receive 
 Threelhousand ducats : I'll not answer that: 
 But, say, it is my humour;* Is it answer'd? 
 What if my house be troubled with a rat, 
 And I be p!eas ; d to ;nve tea thousand ducats 
 To have it haned ? What, are you answer'd yet? 
 Some men there are, love not a gaping 5 pig ; 
 Some, that are mad, if they behold a cat ; 
 And others, when the bag-pipu sings i 1 the nose, 
 Cannot contain their urine ; For ritiection,' 
 Mistress of passion, sways it to t'.ie mood 
 Of what it likes, or loaths : Now, for your answer: 
 As there is no firm reason to be render'd, 
 Why he cannot abide a gaping pig ; 
 Why he, a harmless necessary cat ; 
 Why he, a swollen bap-pipe ;" hut of force 
 Must yield to such inevitable sii;;mt.-, 
 As to offend, himself being onended ; 
 So can I give no reason, nor I will npt, 
 More than a lodg'd hate, and a certain loathing 
 I bear Antonio, that I follow thus 
 A losing suit against him. Are you answer'd ? 
 
 Bass. This is no answer, thou unfeeling man, 
 To excuse the current of thy cruelty. 
 
 Shy. I am not bound to please thee with my 
 answer. 
 
 Bass. Do all men kill the things they do not 
 love ? 
 
 S/y. Hates anv man the thing he would not kill ? 
 
 Bass. Every onence is not a hate at first. 
 
 Shy. What, would'st thoa have a serpent sting 
 thee twice ? 
 
 *lnt. I pray you, think you question' with the 
 
 Jew ; 
 
 i ou may as well go stand upon the beach, 
 Vrid bid the main flood bate his usual height ; 
 if ou may as well use question with the wolf, 
 Why he hath made the ewe bleat for the lamb ; 
 Vou may as well forbid the mountain pines 
 To wag their high tops, and to make no noise, 
 When they are fretted with ths gusts of heaven ; 
 
 !1) Pity. (2) Seeming. (3) Whereas. 
 
 (4) Particular fancv. (6) Crying. (6) Prejudice. 
 
 J07 
 
 You may as well do any thing most hard, 
 
 As seek to soften that (than which what's harder?) 
 
 His Jewish heart : Therefore, I do beseeeh you, 
 
 Make no more offers, use no further means, 
 
 But, with all brief and plain conveniency, 
 
 Let me have judgment, and the Jew his will. 
 
 Bass. For thy three thousand ducats here is six. 
 
 Shy. If every ducat in six thousand ducats 
 Were in six parts, and every part a ducat, 
 " would not draw them, I would have my bond. 
 
 Duke. How shalt thou hope for mercy, rend'ring 
 none? 
 
 Shy. What judgment shall I dread, doing no 
 
 You hare among you many a purchas'd slave, 
 Which, like your asses, and your dogs, and mules, 
 You use in abject and in slavish parts, 
 Because you bought them : Shall I say to you, 
 Let them be free, marry them to your heirs? 
 Why sweat they under burdens ? let their beds 
 Be made as soft as yours, and let their palates 
 Be season'd with such viands ? You will answer, 
 The slaves are ours : So do I answer you : 
 The pound of flesh, which I demand of him, 
 Is dearly bought, is mine, and I will have it : 
 If you deny me, tie upon your law ! 
 There is no force in the decrees of Venice : 
 I stand for judgment : answer ; shall I have it ? 
 
 Duke. L pon my power. I may dismiss this court, 
 Unless Bcllario, a learned doctor, 
 Whom I have sent for to determine this, 
 Come here torday. 
 
 Solar. My lord, here stays withou* 
 
 A messenger with letters from the doctor, 
 New come from Padua. 
 
 Duke. Bririir us the. letters; Call the messenger. 
 
 Bass. Good cheer, Ajitoriio ! What, man ? 
 
 courage yet! 
 
 The Jew shall have my flesh, blood, bones, and all, 
 Ere thou shalt lose for me one drop of blood. 
 
 Jlnl. I am a tainted v, ether of the flock, 
 Meetest for death ; the weakest kind of fruit 
 Drops earliest to the ground, and so let me 
 You cannot better be ernjiloy'd, Bassanio, 
 Than to live still, and write mhie epitaph. 
 
 Enter Jserisaa, di-asul /A'e a lawyer's clerk. 
 
 Duke. Came you from Padua, from Bellario ? 
 Ntr. From both, ruy lord: Bellario greets your 
 grace. [Presents a letter. 
 
 *fs. Why dost thou whet thy knife so ear- 
 nestly ? 
 
 Shy. To cut the forfeiture from that bankrupt 
 them. 
 
 Gra. ~'- --<;le, but on thy soul, harsh Jew, 
 
 Thou mak'st thy knife keen : but no metal can, 
 No, not the hangman's axe, bear huh' the keenness 
 Of thy sharp envy.'* Can no prayers pierce thee? 
 
 Shy. No. none that Ihou hastwitenough to make. 
 
 Gra. O, be thou damn'd, inexorable dog ! 
 And for thy life let justice be accus'd. 
 Thou almost mak'st me waver in my faith, 
 To hold opinion with Pythagoras, 
 That souls of animals infuse themselves 
 Into the trunks of men : thy currish spirit 
 LJovcrn'd a wolf, who, hanu-'d for human slaughter, 
 Even from the gallows did his fell soul fleet, 
 And, whilst thou lay'st in thy unhallow'd dam, 
 [nfus'd itself in thee ; for thy desires 
 Are wolfish, bloody, starv'd, a'nd ravenous. 
 
 Shy. Till thou canst rail the seal from off my 
 bond, 
 
 (7) Converse. 
 
 (8) Malice.
 
 198 
 
 MERCHANT OF VENICE. 
 
 Act IV 
 
 Thou but oftend'st thy lunirs to speak so loud : JThe deeds of mercy. I have spoke thus much, 
 
 Repair thy wit, good youth, or it will full j To mitigate the justice of thy plea ; 
 
 To cureless ruin. I stand here for law. | Which if thoa follow, this strict court of Venice 
 
 Duke. This letter from Bellario doth commend i Must needs give sentence 'gainst the merchant 
 A young and learned doctor to our court : there. 
 
 Where is he ? Shy. My deed's upon my head ! I crave the law, 
 
 vYer. He attcndeth here hard by, j The penalty and forfeit of my bond. 
 
 To know your answer, whether you'll admit him. j Per. Is hs not able to discharge the money? 
 
 Duke. With all my heart: some three or fourj Bass. Yes, here I tender it for him in the court ; 
 of you, j Yea, twice the sum : if that will not suffice, 
 
 Go give him courteous conduct to this place. 
 Mean time, the court shall hear Bellario's letter. 
 [Clerk reads.] Your grace shall understand, 
 
 I will be bound to pay it ten times o'er, 
 On forfeit ef my hands, my head, my heart : 
 If this vrill not suffice, it must appear 
 
 that, at the rectipt of your letter, I am very sick .- 1 That malice bears down truth. And I beseech you, 
 but in the. instant that your messenger came, in | Wrest once the law to your authority : 
 loving visitation was with me a young doctor of To do a great right, do a little wrong ; 
 Stome, his name is Balthazar: I acquainted him *" J u "~ : 
 
 with the cause in controversy between the Jew and 
 *lntonio the merchant: we turned o'er many books 
 
 And curb this cruel devil of his will. 
 
 For. It must not be ; there is no power in Venice 
 Can alter a decree established : 
 'Twill be recorded for a precedent ; 
 
 together : he is furnished with my opinion; which, 
 
 bettered with his own learning (the greatness] And many an error, by the same example, 
 
 u'hereof I cannot enough commend,} comes with Will rush into the state : it cannot be. 
 
 Aim, at my importunity, to fill up your process re- , 
 quest in my ste.ad. I ~besee.ch you, let his lack cf 
 years be no impediment to let him lack a rertreiid 
 estimation; fur I never hiew so young a body with 
 so old a head. I Itave him to your gracious acct/j!- 
 anee, whose trial ahull better publish his cotmntn- 
 dation. 
 Duke. "You hear the learn'd Bellario, what he 
 
 writes : 
 And here, I take it, is the doctor come. 
 
 Enter Portia, dressed like a doctor of laws. 
 Give me your hand : came you from, old Bellario ? 
 
 Par. I'did, my lord. 
 
 Duke. You are welcome : take your place. 
 
 Are you acquainted with the difference 
 That holds this present question in the court? 
 
 Por. I am informed thoroughly of the cause. 
 Which is the merchant here, und which the Jew ? 
 
 Duke. Antonio and old Shylock, both stand forth. 
 
 Por. Is your name Shylock? 
 
 Shy. Shylock is my name. 
 
 Por. Of a strange nature is the suit you follow ; 
 Yet in such rule, that the Venetian law 
 Cannot impugn 1 you, as you do proceed. 
 You stand within his danger, 4 do you not ? 
 
 Jlnt. Ay, so he says. 
 
 Por. 
 
 Ant. I do. 
 Por. 
 
 [To Antonio. 
 Do you confess the bond ? 
 
 Then must the Jew be merciful. 
 
 Shy. On what compulsion must I ? tell me that. 
 
 Por. The quality of mercv, is not strain'd ; 
 It droppeth, as the gentle rain from heaven 
 Upon the place beneath : it is twice bless'd ; 
 It blesseth him that gives, and him that takes : 
 'Tis mightiest in the mightiest ; it becomes 
 The throned monarch better than his crown : 
 
 is sceptre shows the force of temporal power, 
 The attribute to awe and majrsty, 
 Wherein doth sit the dread and fear of kings ; 
 But mercy is above this scepter'd sway, 
 It is enthroned in the hearts of kings, 
 It is an attribute to God himself; 
 And earthly power doth then show likest God's, 
 When mercy seasons justice. Therefore, Jew, 
 Though justice be thv plea, consider this, 
 That, in the course of justice, none of us 
 Should see salvation : we do pray for mercy : 
 And that same prayer doth teach us all to render 
 
 (l)Opppse, (2) Reach or contrql. 
 
 Shy. A Daniel come to judgment ! yea, a Da- 
 niel ! 
 wise young judge, how do I honour ther ! 
 
 Por. "I pray you, let me look upon the bond. 
 
 Shy. Here 'tis, most reverend doctor, here it is. 
 
 Pot: Shylock, there's thrice thy money offer'd 
 thee. 
 
 Shy. An oath, an oath, I have an oath in heaven : 
 Shall I lay perjury upon my soul 
 No, not for Venice. 
 
 Por. Why, this bond is forfeit ; 
 
 And lawfully by this the Jew may claim 
 A pound of flesh, to be by him cut off 
 Nearest the merchant's heart: Be merciful ; 
 Take thrice thy money ; bid me tear the bond. 
 
 Shy. When it is paid according to the tenor. 
 It doth appear, you are a worthy judge ; 
 You know the law, your exposition 
 Hath been most sound : I charge you by the law. 
 Whereof you are a well-deserving pillar, 
 Proceed to judgment: by my soul I swear, 
 There is no power in the tongue of man 
 To alter me : I stay here on my bond. 
 
 tfnt. Most heartily I do beseech the court 
 To give the judgment. 
 
 Por. Why then, thus it u . 
 
 You must prepare your bosom for his knife. 
 
 Shy. O noble judge ! O excellent ycung man ! 
 " Por. For the intent and purpose of the law 
 Hath full relation to the penalty, 
 
 Por. Therefore, lay bare your bosom. 
 
 Shy. Ay, his breast - 
 
 So says the bond ; Doth it not, noble judge ? 
 Nearest his heart, those are the very words. 
 
 Por. It is so. Are there balance here, to weisrh 
 The flesh ? 
 
 Shy. I have them ready. 
 
 Por. Have by some surgeon, Shylock, on your 
 
 charge, 
 To stop his wounds, lest he do bleed to death. 
 
 Shy. Is it so nominated in die bonil? 
 
 Por. It is not so express'd ; But what of that ? 
 'Twerc good you do so much for charity. 
 
 Shy. I cannot find it ; 'tis not in the bond. 
 
 Por. Come, merchant, have you any thing to say? 
 
 Ant . But little ; I am arrn'd, and well prepar'd. . 
 Give me your hand, Bassanio ; fare you well ! 
 Grieve not that I am fallen to this for you ; 
 For herein fortune shows herself more" |{jn.<J
 
 Scene /. 
 
 MERCHANT OF VENICE. 
 
 100 
 
 Than is her custom it is still her use, 
 
 To let the wretched man out-live his wealth, 
 
 To view with hollow eye, and wrinkled brow, 
 
 An age of poverty ; from which lingering penance! 
 
 Of such a misery 'doth she cul me off. 
 
 Commend me lo your honourable wife: 
 
 Tell her Ihe process of Antonio's end, 
 
 Say, how I lov ? d you, speak me fair in death; 
 
 And, when the tale is told, bid her be judge, 
 
 Whether Bassanio had not once a love. 
 
 Repent not you that you shall lose your friend, 
 
 And he repents not that he pays your debt ; 
 
 For if the Jew do cul bul deep enough, 
 
 I'll pay it instantly with all my heart. 
 
 Bass. Antonio, I am married to a wife, 
 Which is as dear to me as life itself; 
 But life itself, ray wife, and all the world, 
 Are nol with me'esteem'd above thy life: 
 I would lose all, ay, sacrifice them all 
 Here to this devil, to deliver you. 
 
 Por. Your wife would give you little thanks for 
 
 that, 
 If she wrre by, to hear you make the ofTcr. 
 
 Gra. I have a wife, whom I protest I love ;i* 
 I would she were in heaven, so she could ^N 
 Entreat some power to chance this currish Jew. 
 
 .Yi-r. 'Tis well you offer it behind her back ; 
 The. wish would make else an unquiet hou&c. 
 
 Shy. The~e be the Christian husband* : lii..\, .-. 
 
 daughter ; 
 
 'Would any of the stock of Barabbas 
 Had been her husband, rather liian a Chris'.ian ! 
 
 [.hide. 
 We trifle time : I pray thee pursue sentence. 
 
 Por. A pound of that saiae merchant's flesh is 
 
 thine ; 
 The court awards it, and the law doth give it. 
 
 Shy. Most righlful judge ! 
 
 Por. And you must cut this flesh from off his 
 
 breast ; 
 The law allows it, and the court awards it. 
 
 Shy. Most learned judge ! A sentence ; come, 
 
 prepare. 
 For. Tarry a little , 
 
 there is something else. 
 
 This bond doth give thee here no jot of blood ; 
 
 The words expressly are, a pound of flesh: 
 
 Take then thy bond, take thou thy pound of flesh ; 
 
 But, in the cutting it, if thou dost shed 
 
 One drop of Christian blood, thy lands and goods 
 
 Are, by the laws of Venice, comiscate 
 
 Unto the state of Venice. 
 
 Gra. O upright, judge ! Mark, Jew ; O learn- 
 ed judge ! 
 
 Slty. Is that the law ? 
 
 Per. 
 
 Thyself shall see the act : 
 
 Thou diest, and all thy goods are confiscate. 
 
 Gra. A second Daniel, a Daniel, Jew ! 
 Now, infidel, 1 have thee on the hip. 
 
 Por. W : hy doth the Jew pause 1 take thy for* 
 feiture. 
 
 Shy. Give me my principal, and lei me go. 
 
 Bass. I have it ready for thee ; here it is. 
 j Por. He hath refused it in the ooen court ; 
 i He shall have merely justice, and his bond. 
 ! Gra. A Daniel, still say I ; a second Daniel ! 
 I thank thee, Jew, for teaching' me that word. 
 
 Shy. Shall I not have barely my principal ? 
 
 Por. Thou shall hare nothing but the forfeiture, 
 To be so taken at thy peri!, .jew. 
 
 Shy. Why then the devil give him good of it! 
 I'll stay no longer question. 
 
 Por. Tarry, Jew , 
 
 The law hath yet another liald on yo'u. 
 It is enacted in the laws of Venice, 
 ! If it be proy'd against art" alien, 
 That by direct, or indirect attempt*, 
 He seek the life of any citizen, 
 The party, 'gainst the which lie >?otn contrive, 
 Shall seize one half Ii i-> o^her hall 
 
 Comes to the privy coffer of th stnir ; 
 Ar.-i the. offender's liJ'c lies in 'C<\ f . n;r-rcy 
 duke only, 'gainst ell 'tfltr.r voice. 
 a predicament, I say tbou stand's! : 
 For it rppears !:v manifest proceeding, 
 Tiict, indirectly," anu duvctly too, 
 Th.-iu hast coiitriv'd y^;;i;::-t the very life 
 Oi the defendant ; ?.: J rVsO'i ha=t inetirr'd 
 The danger formerly ly nje reh':r.r-V. 
 Down, therefore, and beg mercy of tin*, duke. 
 
 Gra. Beg, that thou may'st h;ive leave to hang 
 
 thyself: 
 
 And yet, thy wealth being forfeit to the state, 
 Thou hast not left the value of a cord ; 
 Therefore, thou mustbehang'd atthestate'scharge. 
 
 Duke. That thou shall see the difference of our 
 
 spirit, 
 
 I pardon thee thy life before thou ask it : 
 For half thy wealth, it is Antonio's ; 
 The other half comes to the general state, 
 Which humbleness may drive unto a fine. 
 
 Por. Ay, for the state ; not for Antonio. 
 
 Shy. Nay, take my life and all, pardon not that- 
 Vou lake my house, when you do take the prop 
 That doth sustain my house ; you take my life", 
 When you do take the means whereby I live. 
 
 Por. What mercy can you render him^ Antonio ? 
 
 Gra. A halter gratis ; nothing else, for God's pake. 
 
 Int. So please my lord the duke, and all the 
 
 court, 
 To quit the fine for one half of his goods ; 
 
 For, as thou urgest justice, be assur'd, I am content, so he will let me have 
 
 Thou shall have justice, more than thou desir'st. !The other half in use, to render it, 
 
 Gra. learned judge ! Mark, Jew ; a learned jUpon his death, unto the crentleman 
 judge! ' i Thai lately stole his daughter: 
 
 Shy. flake this offer then ; pay the bond thrice, 'Two things provided more, That, for this favour, 
 
 And let the Christian go. 
 
 Bass. 
 
 For. Soft: 
 The Jew shall have all justice ; 
 
 Here is the money, 
 soft! no haste; 
 
 He presently become a Christian ; 
 The other, that he do record a gift, 
 Here in the court, of all he dies possess'd, 
 Unto his son Lorenzo, and his daughter. 
 
 mo ms son i>orenzo, ana nis aaujmer. 
 He shall have nothing but the penalty. I Duke. He shall do this ; or else I do recant 
 
 Gra. O Jew ! an upright judge, a learned judge ! The pardon, that I late pronounced here. 
 
 Par. Therefore, prepare Vhee to cut oft" the flesh. 
 Shed thou no blood ; nor cut thou les, nor more, 
 But just a pound of flesh : if thou tak'st more, 
 Or less, than a just pound, be it but so much 
 As makes il light, or heavy, in the substance, 
 Or the division of the twentieth part 
 
 Of one poor scruple ; nay, if the scale do turn 
 But in tlie estimation of a hair, 
 
 Por. Art Ihou conlented, Jew, what dost thou 
 say? 
 
 Shy. I am content. 
 
 Por. Clfrk, draw a deed of gift. 
 
 Shy. I pray you, give me leave to go from hence ; 
 I am'not well ; send Ihe deed after me, 
 And I will sign it, 
 
 Duke, Get thee gone, but do it.
 
 MERCHANT OF VENICE. 
 
 Cra. In christening them (halt have two god- 
 fathers ; 
 Had I been judge, thou should'st have had ten 
 
 more, 
 To bring thee to the gallows, not the font. 
 
 [Exit Shylock. 
 
 Duke. Sir, I entreat you home with me to dinner. 
 Por. I humbly do desire your grace of pardon ; 
 I must away this night to\vard Padua, 
 And it is meet, I presently set forth. 
 Duke. I am sorry, that your leisure serves you 
 
 not. 
 
 Antonio, gratify this gentleman ; 
 For, in my mfnd, you are much bound to him. 
 
 [Exeunt Duke, magiiificoes, and train. 
 Bass. Most worthy gentleman, I and my friend, 
 Have by your wisdom been this day acquitted 
 Of grievous penalties ; in lieu whereof, 
 Three thousand ducats, due unto the Jew, 
 We freely cope your courteous pains withal. 
 Qnt. And stand indebted, over and above, 
 In love and service to you evermore. 
 
 For. He is well paid, that is well satisfied ; 
 And I, delivering you, am satisfied, 
 And therein do account myself well paid ; 
 My mind was never yet more mercenary. 
 I pray you, know me, when we meet again ; 
 I wish you well, and so I take my leave. 
 Bass. Dear sir, of force 1 must attempt you fur- 
 
 ther; 
 
 Take some remembrance of us, as a tribute, 
 Not as a fee : grant me two things, I pray you, 
 Not to deny me, and to pardon me. 
 Par. You press me far, and therefore I will 
 
 yield. 
 
 Give me your iloves, I'll wear them for your sake ; 
 And, for your love, I'll take this rin<* from you : 
 Do not draw back your hand ; I'll take no more ; 
 And you in love shall not deny me this. 
 
 Bass. This ring, good sir, alas, it is a trifle ; 
 I will not shame myself to give you this. 
 
 Par. I will have nothing else but only this ; 
 And now, methinks, I have a mind to it. 
 Bass. There's more depends on ihis, than on 
 
 the value. 
 
 The dearest ring in Venice will I give you, 
 And find it out by proclamation ; 
 Only for this, I pray you, pardon me. 
 
 Par. I see, sir, you are liberal in offers: 
 You taught me first to beg ; and now, melhinks, 
 You teach me how a beggar should be answer'd. 
 Baas. Good sir, this ring was given me by my 
 
 wife ; 
 
 And, when she put it on, she made me vow, 
 That I should neither sell, nor give, nor lose it. 
 Par. That 'scuse serves many men to save their 
 
 gifts. 
 
 An if your wife be not a mad woman, 
 And know how well I have dcserv'd this ring, 
 She would not hold out enemy for ever. 
 For giving it to me. Well, peace be with yon ! 
 
 [Exeunt Portia and Nerissa. 
 jfnt. My lord Bassanio, let him have the ring ; 
 Let his deservings, and my love withal, 
 Be valued 'gainst your wife's commandment. 
 Bass. Go, Gratiano, run and -overtake him, 
 Give him the ring ; and bring him, if thou canst, 
 Unto Antonio's house : away, make haste. 
 
 \Exil Gratiano. 
 
 Come, you and I will thither presently ; 
 And in (he morning early will we both 
 i'ly lowa."! Belnioiit : Come, Antonio. [Exeunt. 
 
 (1) Reflection. 
 
 SCENE II. Tht same. A strut, Enttr Parti* 
 
 and Nerissa. 
 For. Inquire the Jew's house out, give him thu 
 
 deed, 
 
 And let him sign it ; we'll away to-night, 
 And be a day before our husbands home : 
 This deed will be well welcome to Lorenzo. 
 
 Enter Gratiano. 
 
 Gra. Fair sir, you are well overtaken : 
 Vly lord Bassanio, upon more advice, 1 
 Hath sent you here this ring ; and doth entreat 
 Your company at dinner. 
 
 Par. That cannot be : 
 
 This ring I do accept most thankfully, 
 And so, \ pray you, tell him : Furthermore, 
 i pray you, show my youth old Shylock's house. 
 
 Gru. That will I do. 
 
 AVr. Sir, I would speak with you: 
 
 ['11 see if I can get my husband's ring, [To Portia. 
 Which I did make him swear to keep for ever. 
 
 Par. Thou may'st, I warrant: We shall have 
 
 old r, wearing, 
 
 That they did give the rings away to men , 
 But we'll outface them, arid outswear them too. 
 Away, make haste ; thou know'st where I will tarry. 
 
 Jfer. Come, good sir, will you show me to this 
 house ? [Exeunt. 
 
 ACT V. 
 
 SCJV*E /. Belmont. Avenue to Portia's haust. 
 Enter Lorenzo and Jessica. 
 
 Lor. The moon shines bright : In such a night 
 
 as this, 
 
 When the sweet wind did gently kiss the trees, 
 And they did make no noise ; in such a night, 
 Troilus, methinks, mounted the Trojan walls, 
 And sigh'd his soul to\vird the Grecian tents, 
 Where Crcssid lay that night. 
 
 Jes. In such a night, 
 
 Did Thisbe fearfully o'ertrip the dew ; 
 And suw the lion's shadow ere himself, 
 And ran dismay'd away. 
 
 Lor. In such a night, 
 
 Stood Dido with a willow in her hand 
 Upon the wild sea-banks, and wav'd her lov 
 To come again to Carthage. 
 
 Jes. In such a night, 
 
 Medea gnther'd the enchanted herbs 
 That did renew old JEson. 
 
 Lor. In such a night, 
 
 Did Jessica steal from the wealthy Jew : 
 And with an unthrift love did run from Venice, 
 As far as Belmont. 
 
 Jes. And in such a nieht, 
 
 Did young Lorenzo swear he lov'd her well ; 
 Stealing her soul with many vows of faith, 
 And ne'er a true one. 
 
 Lor. And in such a night, 
 
 Did pretty Jessica, like a little shrew, 
 Slander her love, and he forgave it her. 
 
 Jes. I would out-night you, did nobody coma: 
 But, hark, I hear the footing of a man. 
 
 Enter Stephano. 
 
 IMT. Who comes so fast in silence of the night ? 
 
 Steph. A friend. 
 
 Lor. A friend? what friend? your name, 1 pray 
 
 you, friend ? 
 Steph. Stephano is my name ; and I brine word,
 
 
 MERCHANT OP VENICE. 
 
 201 
 
 Mj mistress will before the break of day 
 Be heie at Belmont: she doth stray about 
 By holy crosses, where she kneels and prays 
 For happy wedlock hours. 
 
 Lor. Who comes with her? 
 
 Steph. None, but a holy hermit, and her maid. 
 I pray you, is my master yet return'J ? 
 
 Lor. He is not, nor we have not heard from 
 
 him. 
 
 But go we in, I pray thee, Jessica, 
 And ceremoniously let us prepare 
 Some welcome for the mistress of the house. 
 
 Enter Launcelot 
 
 Laun. Sola, sola, wo ha, ho, soia, sola ! 
 
 Lor. Who calls ? 
 
 Latin. Sola ! did you see master Lorenzo, anc 
 mistress Lorenzo ? sola, sola ! 
 
 Lor. Leave hollaing, man ; here. 
 
 Laun. Sola ! where ? where ? 
 
 Lor. Here. 
 
 Laun. Tell him, there's a post come from my 
 master, with his horn full of good news ; my mas- 
 ter will be here ere morning. [Exit. 
 
 Lor. Sweet soul, let's in, and there expect their 
 
 coming. 
 
 And yet no matter; Why should we go in ? 
 My friend Stephano, signify, I pray you, 
 Within the house, your mistress is at hand ; 
 And bring your music forth into the air. 
 
 [Exit Stephano. 
 
 How sweet the moonlight sleeps upon this bank ! 
 Here will we sit, and let the sounds of music 
 Creep in our ears ; soft stillness, and the night, 
 Become the touches of sweet harmony. 
 Sit, Jessica : Look, how the floor of heaven 
 Is thick inlaid with patines 1 of bright gold ; 
 There's not the smallest orb, which thou btholu'sl, 
 But in his motion like an angel sings, 
 Still ouiring to the ypungr-ey'd cherubins 
 Such harmony is in immortal souls ; 
 But. whilst this muddy vesture of decay 
 Doth grossly close it in, we cannot hear it. 
 
 Enter musicians. 
 
 Come, ho, and wake Diana with a hymn ; 
 With sweetest touches pierce your mistress' ear, 
 And draw her home with music. 
 
 Jts. I am never merry, when I hear sweet music. 
 
 [^hisic. 
 
 Lor. The reason is, your spirits are attentive : 
 For do but note a wild and wanton herd, 
 Or race of youthful and unhandled colts. 
 Fetching mad bounds, bellowing, and neighing 
 
 loud, 
 
 Which is the hot condition of their blood ; 
 If they but hear perchance a trumpet sound, 
 Or any air of music touch their cars, 
 You shall perceive them make a mutual stand, 
 Their savage eyes turn'd to a modest ga/e, 
 By the sweet power of music : Therefore, the poet 
 Did feign that Orpheus drew trees, stones, and 
 
 floods ; 
 
 Since nought so stoekish, hard, and fun of rase, 
 But music for the time doth change his nature : 
 Tne man that hath no music in himseit, 
 Nor is not mov'd with concord of sweet sounds, 
 Is fit for treasons, stratagems, and spoils ; 
 The motions of his spirit are dull as night, 
 And his affections dark as Erebus: 
 Let no such man be trusted. Mark the music. 
 
 (1) A small fl-*rtish, used in the administration 
 of the Eucharist. 
 
 Enter Portia and Nerissa, at a distantt. 
 
 For. That light we see, is burning in my hall. 
 How far that little candle throws his beams ! 
 So shines a good deed in a naughty world. 
 
 JWr. When the moon shone, we did not see the 
 candle. 
 
 Por. So doth the greater glory dim the less 
 A substitute shines brightly as a king, 
 Until a king be by ; anil then his state 
 Empties itself, as dolii an inland brook 
 Into the main of waters. Music! hark! 
 
 Ner. It is your music, madam, of the house. 
 
 Por. Nothing is good, I see, without respect; 
 Methinks, it sounds much sweeter than by day. 
 
 Ner. Silence bestows that virtue on it, madam. 
 
 Por. The crow doth sing as sweetly as the lark, 
 When neither is attended ; and, I think, 
 The nightingale, if she should sing bv day, 
 When every~goose is cackling, would be thought 
 No better a musician than the wren. 
 Ho-.v many things by season season'd are 
 To their rfpht praise, and true perfection ! 
 Peace, hoa ! the moon sleeps with Endymion, 
 And would not be awak'd ! [C>litsic ceases. 
 
 Lor. That is the voice, 
 
 Or I am much dccciv'd, of Portia. 
 
 Per. He knows me, as the blind man knows th 
 
 cuckoo, 
 By the bad voice. 
 
 Lor. Dear lady, welcome home. 
 
 Por. We have been praying for our husbands' 
 
 welfare, 
 
 Which speed, we hope, the better for our words. 
 Are they rcturn'd 7 
 
 Lor. Madam, they are not yet ; 
 
 But there is come a messenger before, 
 To signify their coming. 
 
 Por. Go in, Nerissa, 
 
 Give order to my servants, that thev take 
 No note at all of our beimr absent hence ; 
 Nor you, Lorenzo ; Jessica, nor YOU. 
 
 |.3 tucket* sounds. 
 
 Lor. Your husband is at hand, 1 hear his trumpet: 
 We are no tell-tales, madam ; fear you not 
 
 Por. This night, mcthinks, is but the day-light 
 
 sick, 
 
 [' looks a little paler ; 'tis a day, 
 Such as the day is when the sun is hid. 
 
 Enter Bassanio, An'onio, Gratiano, and their 
 
 -trs. 
 
 Bass. We should hold day with the Antipodes, 
 [f vou would walk in absence of the sun. 
 
 Por. Let me give light, but let me not be light ; 
 Tor a 1: <ht v.if>: dotii m:.k a heavy husband, 
 Ar:d never be Bassanio so for me ;' 
 iiu* God rort all ! You are welcome home, my lord. 
 Bass. I thank you, madam: give welcome to 
 
 my friend. 
 
 This is the man, this is Antonio, 
 To whom I am so infinitely bound. 
 Por. You should in all sense be much bound to 
 
 him, 
 
 or, as I hear, he was much bound for you. 
 .Int. No more than I am well acquitted of. 
 Por. Sir, you are very welcome to our house: 
 [I must appear in other ways thun words, 
 Therefore. I scant this breathinir coi:rt<.-.>v. 3 
 
 fGratiano and Nerissa stem to talk apart. 
 Gra. By yonder moon, I swear, you do mn 
 wrong ; 
 
 (2) A flourish on a trumpet 
 
 (3) Verbal, complimentary for 
 
 2C
 
 MERCHANT OF VENICE. 
 
 In faith, - gave it to the judge's clerk : 
 Would he were gelt that had it, for my part, 
 Since you do take it, love, so much at heart. 
 
 for. A quarrel, ho, already ? what's the matter 1 
 
 Gra. About a hoop of gold, a paltry ring 
 That she did give me ; whose posy was 
 For all the world, like cutler's poetry 
 Upon a knife, Love me, and leave me not. 
 
 Jfer. What talk you of the posy, or the value ? 
 You swore to me, when I did give it you. 
 That you would wear it till your hour of death; 
 And that it should lie with you in your grave : 
 Though not for me, yet for your vehement oaths. 
 You should have been respective, 1 and have kept it. 
 Gave it a judge's clerk ! but well I know, 
 The clerk will ne'er wear hair on his face, that 
 had it. 
 
 Gra. He will, an if he live to be a man. 
 
 Aer. Ay, if a woman live to be a man. 
 
 Gra. Now, by this hand, I gave it to a youth, 
 A kind of boy ; a little scrubbed boy, 
 No hi?her than thyself, the fudge's clerk; 
 A prating boy, that begg'd it as a fee { 
 I could not for my heart deny it him. 
 
 Por. You were to blame, I must be plain with you, 
 To part so slightly with your wife's lirst gift ; 
 A thing stuck on with paths upon your finger, 
 And riveted so with faith unto vour llesh. 
 I gave my love a ring, and made him swear 
 Never to part with it ; and here he stands ; 
 I dare be sworn for him, he would not leave it, 
 Nor pluck it from his fingerj for the wealth 
 That the world masters. Now, in faith, Gratiano, 
 You give your wife too unkind a cause of grief ; 
 An 'twere to me, I should be mad at it. 
 
 Bass. Why, I were best to cut my left hand off, 
 And swear, I lost the ring defending it. {Jlside. 
 
 Gra. My lord Bassanio gave his ring away 
 Unto the judge that begg'd it, and, indeed, 
 Deserv'd it too ; and then the boy, his clerk, 
 That took some pains in writing, he begg'd mine 
 And neither man, nor master, would take aught 
 But the two rings. 
 
 Por. 
 
 What ring gave you, my lord ? 
 
 Not that, I hope, which you receiv'd of me. 
 
 Bass. If I could add a lie unto a fault, 
 I would deny it ; but you see my finger 
 Hath not the ring upon it, it is gone. 
 
 Por. Even so void is your false heart of truth. 
 By heaven, I will ne'er come in your bed 
 Until I see the ring. 
 
 Ner. Nor I in yours, 
 
 Till I again see mine. 
 
 Bass. Sweet Portia, 
 
 If you did know to whom I gave the ring, 
 If you did know for whom I gave the ring, 
 And would conceive for what I gave the ring, 
 And how unwillingly I left the ring, 
 When nought would be accepted but the ring, 
 You would abate the strength of your displeasure. 
 
 Por. If you had known the virtue of the ring, 
 Or half her worthiness that gave the ring, 
 Or your own honour to contain the ring, 
 You would not then have parted with the ring. 
 What man is there so much unreasonable, 
 If you had pleas'd to have defended it, 
 With any terms of zeal, wanted the modesty 
 To urge the thing held as a ceremony ? 
 Nerissa teaches me what to believe ; < 
 
 I'll die for't, but some woman had the ring. 
 
 Bass. No, by mine honour, madam, by my soul, 
 No woman had it, but a civil doctor, 
 
 Which did refuse three thousand ducats of me, 
 
 And begg'd the ring ; the which I did deny him, 
 
 And suffer'd him to go displcas'd away : 
 
 Evefl he that had held up the very life 
 
 Of my dear friend. What should I say, sweet lady ? 
 
 I was enforc'd to send it after him ; 
 
 I was beset with shame and courtesy ; 
 
 My honour would not let ingratitude 
 
 So much besmear it : Pardon me. good lady ; 
 
 For. by these blessed candles of the night, 
 
 Had you been there, I think, you would have begg'd 
 
 The ring of me to give the worthy doctor. 
 
 Por. Let not that doctor e'er come near my 
 
 house : 
 
 Since he hath got the jewel that I lov'd. 
 And that which you did swear to keep ror me, 
 I will become as liberal as you : 
 I'll not deny him any thing^ I have. 
 No, not my body, nor my husband's bed : 
 Know him I shall, I am well sure of it : 
 Lie not a night from home ; watch me like Argus : 
 If you do not, if I be left alone, 
 Now, by mine honour, which is yet my own^ 
 I'll have that doctor for my bedfellow. 
 
 A'er. And I his clerk ; therefore be well advis'd, 
 How you do leave me to mine own protection. 
 
 Gra. Well, do you so : let not me take him then ; 
 For, if I do, I'll mar the young clerk's pen. 
 
 Jlnl. I am the unhappy subject, of these quarrels. 
 
 Por. Sir, grieve not you ; You are welcome 
 notwithstanding. 
 
 Bass. Portia, forgive me this enforc'd wrong ; 
 And, in the hearing of these many friends, 
 I swear to thee, even by thine own fair eyes, 
 Wherein I see myself, 
 
 Por. Mark you but that ! 
 
 In both my eyes he doubly sees himself : 
 In each eye one : swear by your double self, 
 And there's%n oath of credit. 
 
 Bass. Nay, but hear me : 
 
 Pardon this fault, and by my soul I swear, 
 I never more will break an oath with thce. 
 
 Jlnt. I once did lend my body for his wealth ; 
 Which, but for him that had your husband's ring, 
 
 [To Portia. 
 
 Had quite miscarried : I dare be bound again, 
 My soul upon the forfeit, that your lord 
 Will never more break faith advisedlv. 
 
 Por. Then you shall be his surety : Give him this ; 
 And bid him keep it better than the other. 
 
 Jlnt. Here, lord Bassanio ; swear to keep this 
 ring. 
 
 Bass. By heaven, it is the same I gave the doctor . 
 
 Por. I had it of him : pardon me, Bassanio ; 
 For by this ring the doctor lay with me. 
 
 Ner. And pardon me, my gentle Gratiano ; 
 For that same scrubbed boy, the doctor's clerk, 
 In lieu of this, last night did He with me. 
 
 Gra. Why, this is like the mending of highways 
 In summer, where the ways are fair enough : 
 What ! are we cuckolds, ere we have deserved it ? 
 
 Por. Speak not so grossly. You are all amaz'd : 
 Here is a letter, read it at your leisure ; 
 [t comes from Padua, from Bellario : 
 There you shall find, that Portia was the doctor ; 
 Verissa there, her clerk : Lorenzo here 
 Shall witness, I set forth as soon as you, 
 And but even now return'd ; I have not yet 
 Enter'd my house Antonio, you are welcome ; 
 And I have better news in store for you, 
 Than you expect : unseal this letter soon ; 
 
 There you shall, three, of your argosies 
 Are richly come to harbour suddenly : 
 (1) Regardful, (2) Advantage, I You shall not know bv what strange accident
 
 Scent I. 
 
 MERCHANT OF VENICE. 
 
 203 
 
 I chanced on this letter. 
 
 .int. I am dumb. 
 
 Eass. Were you the doctor, and I knew you 
 not? 
 
 Gra. Were you the clerk, that is to make me 
 cuckold ? 
 
 AV r. Ay ; but the clerk that never means to do it, 
 Unless he live until he be a man. 
 
 Bass. Sweet doctor, you shall be my bedfellow ; 
 When I am absent, then lie with my wife. 
 
 .in/. Sweet lady, you have given me life, an; 1 . 
 
 living ; 
 
 For here I read for certain, that my ships 
 Are safely come to road. 
 
 Par. ' How now, Lorenzo ? 
 
 Mv clerk hath some zood comforts too for you. 
 
 .Yer. Ay, and I'll give them him without a 
 
 fee. 
 
 There do I give to you, and Jessica, 
 From the rich Jew, a special deed of sift, 
 After his death, of all he dies possess'*! of. 
 
 Lor. Fair ladies, you drop manna in the way 
 Of starved people. 
 
 Por. It is almost morninsr, 
 
 And yet, I am sure, you are not satisfied 
 Of these events at full : Let us go in ; 
 
 'And charge us there upon interpatories, 
 'And we will answer all things faithfully. 
 
 Gra. Let it be so : The first intergatory, 
 That my Nerissa shall be sworn on, is, 
 Whether till the next night she had rather stay ; 
 .Or go to bed now, being two hours to day : 
 But were the day come, I should wish it dark, 
 I That I were couching with the doctor's clerk. 
 ; Well, while I live, I'll fear no other thing 
 j So sore, as keeping safe^'erissa's ring. 
 
 [Exntni. 
 
 Of the Merchant of Venice thr style is even and 
 easy, with few peculiarities of diction, or anomalies 
 of construction. The comic part raises laughter, 
 and the serious fixes expectation. The probability 
 of_ either one or the other story cannot be main- 
 tained. The union of two actions in one event is 
 in this drama eminently happy. Dryden was 
 much pleased with his own address in connecting 
 the two plots of his Spanish Friar, which vet, I 
 believe, the critic will find excelled by this play. 
 
 JOHNSON.* 

 
 
 AS 
 
 MKE IT, 
 
 PERSONS REPRESENTED. 
 
 Duke, living in exile. 
 
 Frederick, brother to the Duke, and usurper of 
 
 his dominions. 
 
 Amiens, } lords attending upon the Duke in 
 Jaques, 5 banishment. 
 
 Le Beau, o courtier attending upon Frederick. 
 Charles, Aw wrestler. 
 Oliver, 1 
 
 Jaques, > sons of sir Rowland de Bois. 
 Orlando, ) 
 
 Touchstone, a clown. 
 
 Sir Oliver Mar-text, a vicar. 
 
 i William, a country fellow, in love with Audrey. 
 4 person representing Hymen. 
 
 Rosalind, daughter to tjie banished Duke. 
 Celia, daughter to Frederick. 
 Phebe, a shepherdess. 
 Audrey, a country wench. 
 
 Lords belonging to the two Dukes ; pages, for esters, 
 and other attendants. 
 
 The Scene lies, first, near Oliver's house; aflsr- 
 wards, partly in the usurper's court, and partly 
 in the forest ofdrden. 
 
 ACT I. 
 
 SCENE I.Jn orclutrd, near Oliver's kous:. 
 Enter Orlando and Adam. 
 
 Orlando. 
 
 I remember, Adam, it was upon this fashion 
 bequeathed me: By will, but a poor thousand 
 crowns : and, as thou say'st, charged my brother, 
 on his blessing, to breed me well : and there be- 
 gins my sadness. My brother Jaques he keeps at 
 school, and report speaks goldenly of his profit : 
 for my part, he keeps me rustically at home, or, to 
 
 As 
 
 Oli. What mar you then, sir ? 
 
 Orl. Marry, sir, I am helping you to mar that 
 which God made, a poor unworthy brothel- of 
 yours, with idleness. 
 
 Oli. Marry, sir, be better employ's], and be 
 naught a while. 
 
 Orl. Shall I keep your hoars, and eat husks with 
 them ? What prodigal portion have I spent, that I 
 should rcrne to such penury? 
 
 Oli. Know you where you are, sir? 
 
 Orl. O, sir, very well : here in your orchard. 
 
 Oli. Know you before whom, -sfr ? 
 
 Orl. Ay, belter than he I am before knows me. 
 
 speak more properly, stavs me here ;it home un- * know you are my eldest brother, and, in the gen- 
 
 they are fair with their feeding the'v are taacht takes not av ' a J' m >" blood, were there twenty bro- 
 
 their manage, and to tiiat end riders dearly hired : tners betwixt us : I have as much of my father in 
 
 but I, his brother, gain nothing under him but me > as you ; albeit, I confess, your coming before 
 
 growth ; for the which his animals on his dung- me >' nearer to his reverence. 
 
 hills are as much bound to Iran as I. Besides this V 7," at bo > 
 
 nothing that he so plentifully gives me, the some- "" . C( ' e > come, elder brother, you are too 
 
 thing that nature gave me, his countenance seems younsj in this. 
 
 to take from me : he lets me feed with his hinds, | <*; Wilt thou lay hands on me, villain ? 
 
 bars me the place of a brother, .and, as much as . On. am I)o villain : 3 I am the ycunsyest son of 
 
 in him lies, mines my erentility with my education. !?"\, R wlatK '. 1 " e . Boi , s 5 he was my father ; and he 
 
 This is it, Adam, thafsrie 
 
 of my father, which I think 
 
 to mutiny against this servitude 
 
 endure it, though yet I know no wise remedy how 
 
 to avoid it 
 
 Enter Oliver. 
 
 Jldam. Yonder conies my master, your brother. 
 
 Orl. Go apart, Adam, and thou slialt hear how 
 he will shake nie up. 
 
 Oli. NoWj sir ! what make you here? 1 
 
 Orl. Nothing : I am not taught to make any tiling. 
 
 (T) What do you here? 
 
 (2) Villain is" used in a double sense ; by Oliver 
 for a worthless fellow, and by Orlando for a man 
 of base extraction. 
 
 ievc'sme; and the spirit!' 8 thrice a villain, that says, such a father h 
 ink is within me, besrins 1 villains: Wert thou not my brother, I would 
 srvitude : I will no longer teke lms hand ' rol n % throat, till this other 
 
 begot 
 d not 
 
 - , - other had 
 
 pulled out thy tongue lor saying so ; thou hast rail- 
 ed on thyself. 
 
 Mam. Sweet masters, be patient ; for your fa- 
 ther's remembrance, be at accord. 
 
 Oli. Let me go, I say. 
 
 Orl. I will not, till I please : you shall hear me. 
 My father charged you in iiis will to give rne good 
 education : you have trained me like a peasant, ob- 
 scuring and hiding from me all f>entleman-like 
 qualities : the spirit of my father grows strong in 
 me, and I will no longer endure it : therefore allow 
 me such exercises as may become a gentleman, 01 
 give me the poor allottery my father left me by tea.
 
 Scene 11. 
 
 AS YOU LIKE if. 
 
 tament ; with that I will go buy my fortunes. 
 
 Oli. And what wilt thou do ? beg, when that is 
 spent 7 Well, sir, get you in : I will not long be 
 
 troubled with you: you shall have some part of France; full of ambition, an envious emulator of 
 
 your will : I pray you, leave me 
 
 Orl. I will no "further offend you than becomes 
 me for my good. 
 
 Oli. Get you with him, you old dog. 
 
 Mam. Is old dog my reward? "Most true, I 
 have lost my teeth in your service. God be with 
 my old master, he would not have spoke such a 
 
 and have by underhand means labfcured to dissuade 
 him from it; but he is resolute. I'll tell thee, 
 Charles, it is the stubbornest young fellow of 
 
 every man's good parts, a secret and villanous 
 contriver against me his natural brother ; there- 
 fore use thy discretion ; I had as lief thon didst 
 break his neck as his finger : And thou wert best 
 look to't ; for if thou dostThim any slight disgrace, 
 or if he rfo not mightily grace himself on thee, he 
 will practise against thee by poison, entrap thec by- 
 
 word. [Exeunt Orlando and Adam. 'some treacherous device, and never leave thee till 
 
 O/i. Is it even so ? begin you to grow upon me ? he hath ta'en thy life by some indirect means or 
 
 I will physic your rankncss, and yet give no thou- other: for, I assure thee, and almost with tears I 
 
 speak it, there is not one so young and so villanous 
 this day living. I speak but brotherly of him; 
 
 sand crowns neither. Holla, Dennis ! 
 Enter Dennis. 
 
 but should I anatomize him to thee as he is, I 
 must blush and weep, and thou must look pale 
 
 i heartily glad I came hith2r to you : 
 o-morrow, I'll give him his payment : 
 o alone again, I'll never wrestle for 
 
 Dm. Calls your worship ? 
 
 Oli. Was not Charles, the Duke's wrestler, here 
 to speak with me ? 
 
 Den. So please you, he is here at the door, and 
 importunes access to you. 
 
 Oli. Call him in. [Exit Dennis.] 'Twill be a 
 good way ; and to-morrow the wrestling is. 
 
 Enter Charles. 
 
 Cha. Good morrow to your worship. 
 
 Oli. Good monsieur Charles ! what's the new 
 news at the new court? 
 
 Cha. There's no news at the court, sir, but the , 
 
 old news : that is, the old duke is banished by his thc h , eiirt ' l , ne w rld . a especially of my own 
 younger brother the new duke ; and three or" four P C .P'?> who best know him, that I am altogether 
 
 misprized : but it shall not be so long ; this wrestler 
 
 and wonder. 
 
 Cha. I am 
 
 If he come to-morrow 
 If ever he 
 prize more :" And so, God keep your worship ! 
 
 [Exit. 
 
 Oil. Farewell, good Charles. Now will I stir 
 this gamester: 2 I hope, I shall see an end of him ; 
 for my soul, yet I know not why, hates nothing 
 more than he. Yet. he's gentle ; never school'd, 
 and yet learned ; full of noble device ; of all sorts 3 
 enchantingly beloved ; and, indeed, so much in 
 
 loving lords have put themselves into voluntary 
 exile with him, whose lands and revenues enrich 
 the new duke ; therefore he gives them good leave' 
 to wander. 
 
 Oli. Can you tell, if Rosalind, the duke's daugh- 
 ter, be banished with her father? 
 
 Cha. O, no ; for the duke's daughter, her cousin, 
 
 shall clear all : nothing remains, but that I kindle 
 the boy thither, which now I'll go about. [Exit. 
 
 SCE.YE II. w? lawn before the Duke's p alact. 
 Enter Rosalind and Celia. 
 
 Cel. I pray thee, Rosalind, sweet my coz, be 
 so loves her, being ever from their cradles bred! merry, 
 together, that she would have followed her exile, j Ros. Dear Cclia, I show more mirth than I am 
 or have died to stav behind her. She is at the I mistress of; and would you yet I were merrier? 
 court, and no less beloved of her uncle than his! Unless you could teach me to forget a banished 
 own daughter; and never t-.vo ladies loved as! father, you must not learn me how to remember 
 thev do. ~ any extraordinary pleasure. 
 
 Oli. Where will the olci duke live? 'Cel. Herein, I see, thou lovest me net with the 
 
 Cha. ~~ 
 Arden, 
 
 there they live like the Did Rob; 
 
 they say, many youn^ gentlemen flock to him every have tauaht my love to take thy father for mine :; 
 day; and fleet the time carelessly, as they did injso wonld'st thou, if the truth of thy love to me 
 
 Where win trie olci cluKe live ; o. Herein, i see, inou lovest me not with the 
 
 '.. They say, he is already in the forest of full weight that I love thee : if my uncle, thy ba- 
 , and a many merry men with him ; and nished father, had banished thy uncle, the duke 
 hey live like the old Robin Hood of England : my father, so thou hads't been st'ill with me, I could 
 
 the golden world. 
 
 OIL What, you wrestle to-morrow before the 
 new duke ? 
 
 Cha. Marry, do I, sir ; and I carne to acquaint 
 you with a matter. I am given, sir, secretly to 
 understand, that your younger brother, Orlando, 
 hath a disposition to come in disguisM acrai 
 
 to try a fall: To-mnrrow, sir, I wrestle for my 
 credit : and he that escapes me without some bro- 
 
 ken limb shall acquit him well. Your brother is fere, my sweet Rose, my dear Rose, be merry. 
 
 but youncr, and tender; and, for your love, I would 
 be loath to foil him, as I must, for my own honour, 
 if he come in : therefore, out of my love to you, 1 
 came hither to acquaint you withal ; that either 
 you might stay him from his intendment, or brook 
 such disgrace well as he shall run into ; in that it 
 is a tiling of his own search, and altogether against 
 my will. 
 
 OK. Charles, I thank thee for thy love to me, 
 which thou shalt find I will most kindly requite. I 
 bad myself notice of my brother's purpose herein, 
 
 (1) A ready assent, (2) Frolicksome fellow. 
 
 were so riirhlcouslv temperd as mine is to thee. 
 
 Ros. Well, I will forget the condition of my es- 
 tate 1 , to rejoice in yours. 
 
 CcL You know, my father hath no child but I, 
 nor none is like to hrive ; and, truly, when he dies, 
 thou shalt be his heir: for what lie hath taken 
 away from thy father perforce, I will render thee 
 atrain in affection ; by mine honour, I will : and 
 when I break that oath, let me turn monster : there- 
 
 Eos. From henceforth I will, co/, and "devise 
 sports : let me see ; What think you of falling in 
 love ? 
 
 Cel. Marry, I pr'ythee, do, to make sport withal : 
 but love no man in good earnest ; nor no further in 
 sport neither, than with safety of a pure blush thou 
 mav'st in honour come off again. 
 
 Ros. What shall be our snort then ? 
 
 Cd. Let us sit and mock the good housewife, 
 Fortune, from her wheel, that her gifts may hence- 
 forth be bestowed equally.
 
 206 
 
 AS YOU UKfc IT. 
 
 AdL 
 
 Rot. I would, we could dfl so ; for her benefits 
 are mightily misplaced : and the bountiful blind 
 woman doth most mistake in her gifts to women. 
 
 C'i. 'Tis true : for those, that she makes fair, ' she 
 scarce manes nonesi ; ana tnose, that she makes 
 honest, she makes very ill-favour'dly. 
 
 Ros. Nay, now thou goest from fortune's office 
 to nature's : fortune reigns in gifts of the world, 
 not in the lineaments of nature. 
 
 Enter Touchstone. 
 
 Cel. No ? When nature hath made a fair crea- 
 ture, may she not by fortune fall into the fire ! 
 Though nature hath given us wit to flout at for- 
 tune, iiath not fortune sent in this fool to cut oil 
 the argument? 
 
 Ros. Indued, there is fortune too hard for nature ; 
 when fortune makes nature's natural the cutter off 
 of nature's wit. 
 
 Cel. Pevadventure, thi* is not fortune's work 
 neither, but nature's ; who perceiving our natural 
 wits too dull to reason of sue) i goddesses, hath sent 
 this natural for our whetstone : for always the dull- 
 ness of the fool is the whetstone of his wits. How 
 BOW, wit ? whither wander you ? 
 
 Touck. Mistress, you must come away to your 
 father. 
 
 Cel. Were you made the messenger ? 
 
 Touch. No, by mine honour ; but I was bid to 
 come for you. 
 
 Ros. Where learned you that oath, fool ? 
 
 Touch. Of a certain knight, that swore by his 
 honour they were good pancakes, and swore by his 
 honour the mustard was naught : now, I'll stand to 
 it, the pancakes were naught, and the mustard was 
 good : and yet was not the knight forsworn 
 
 LTLfU . O.'IM J I *. VI aa Jll'l Ullt CklU^Ht, BIMVITVEIU ** & Lilt* 111.31. I.IUIl, llldb 
 
 Cel. How prove you that, in the great heap of ribs was sport for ladies. 
 
 your knowledge ? 
 
 Ros. Ay, marry ; now unmuzzle your wisdom. 
 
 Touch. Stand you both forth now : stroke your 
 chins, and swear by your beards that I arn a knave. 
 
 Cel. By our beards, if we had them, thou art. 
 
 Tmich. By my knavery, if I had it, then I were : 
 but if you swear by that that is not, you are not 
 forsworn : no more was this knight, swearing by 
 his honour, for he never had any ; or if he had, he 
 had sworn it away, before ever he saw those pan- 
 cakes or that mustard. 
 
 Cel. Pr'ythee, who is't that thou mean'st ? 
 
 Touch. One that old Frederick, your father, loves. 
 
 Cel. My father's love is enough to honour him. 
 Enough! speak no more of him: you'll be whipp'd 
 for taxation, 1 one of these days. 
 
 Touch. The more pity, thai fools may not speak 
 wisely, what wise men do foolishly. 
 
 Cel. By my troth, thou say'st true : for since the 
 little wit, that fools have, was silenced, the little 
 foolery, that wise men have, makes a great show. 
 Here comes monsieur Le Beau. 
 
 Enter Le Beau. 
 
 Ros. With his mouth full of news. 
 
 Cel. Which he will put on us, as pigeons feed 
 their young. 
 
 Ros. Then shall we be news-cramm'd. 
 
 Cel. All the better ; we shall be the more mar- 
 ketable. Bon jour, monsieur Le Beau : What's 
 the news ? 
 
 Le Beau. Fair princess, you have lost much 
 
 Ros. As wit and fortune will. 
 
 Touch. Or as the destinies decree. 
 
 Cel. Well said ; that was laid on with a trowel. 
 
 Touch. Nay, if I keep not my rank, 
 
 Rvs. Thou losest thy old smell. 
 
 Le Beau. You amaze 2 me, ladies : I would have 
 told you of good wrestling, which you have lost the 
 sight of. 
 
 Roa. Yet tell us the manner of the wrestling. 
 
 Le Bean. 1 will tell you the beginning, ana, if it 
 please your ladyships, you may see the end ; for the 
 best is yet to do ; and here, where you are, they 
 are coming to perform it. 
 
 Cel. Well, the beginning, that is dead and 
 buried. 
 
 Le Beau. There comes an old man, and his 
 thrre sons, 
 
 Cel. I could match this beginning with an old tale. 
 
 Le Beau. Three proper young men, of excellent 
 growth and presence ; 
 
 Ros. With bills on their necks, Be it known 
 unto all men by these presents. 
 
 Le Beau. The eldest of the three wrestled with 
 Charles, the duke's wrestler ; which Charjes in a 
 moment threw him, and broke three of his ribs, 
 that there is little hope of life in him : so he served 
 the second, and so the third : Yonder they lie ; the 
 poor old man, their father, making such pitiful 
 dole over them, that all the beholders take his part 
 with weeping. 
 
 Ros. Alas ! 
 
 Touch. But what is the sport, monsieur, that 
 the ladies have loat ? 
 
 Le Beau. Why, this that I speak of. 
 
 Touch. Thus men may grow wiser every day 
 it is the first time that ever I heard, breaking ol 
 
 Cel. Or I, I promise thee. 
 
 Ros. But is there any else longs to see this broke 
 music in his sides ? is there yet another dotes upon 
 rib-breaking ? Shall we see this wrestling, cousin ? 
 
 Le Beau. You must, if you stay here ; for here 
 is the place appointed for the wrestling, and they 
 are ready to perform it. 
 
 Cel. Yonder, sure, they are coming : Let us now 
 stay and see it. 
 
 Flourish. Enter Duke Frederick, Lords, Orlando, 
 Charles, and attendants. 
 
 Duke F. Come on ; since the youth will not be 
 entreated, his own peril on his forwardness. 
 Ros. Is yonder the man ? 
 Le Be.au. Even he, madam. 
 Cel. Alas, he is too young 
 
 cessfully. 
 
 yet he looks sue- 
 
 Duke F. How now, daughter, and cousin ? are 
 ycu crept hither to sec the wrestling ? 
 
 Ros. Ay, my liege ? so please you give us leave. 
 
 Duke F. You will take little clelisrht in it, I can 
 tell you, there is such odds in the nien : In pity ot 
 the challenger's youth, I would fain dissuade him, 
 but he will not be entreated : Speak to him, ladies : 
 see if you can move him. 
 
 Cel. Call him hither, good monsieur Le Beau. 
 
 Duke F. Do so ; I'll not be by. 
 
 [Duke goes apart. 
 
 Le Beau. Monsieur the challenger, the prin- 
 cesses call for you. 
 
 Orl. I attend them, with all respect and duty. 
 Ros. Young man, have you challenged Charles 
 
 yood sport. 
 
 Cel. Of what colour? ^ 
 
 LtBeau. What colour, madam? How shall I , the wrestler ? 
 tniwer you ? Orl - No > ' air pnncess ; he is the general chal- 
 
 ilenger: I come but in, as others do. to try with 
 (1) Satire. (2) Perplex, confuse, 'him. the strength of my youth.
 
 Scene III. 
 
 AS YOU LIKE IT. 
 
 267 
 
 Lei. Young gentleman, your spirits are too bold I should hare given him tears unto entreaties, 
 r your years : You have seen cruel proof of this Ere he should thus have ventur'd. 
 
 for your j 
 
 man's strength: if you saw yourself with your eyes, 
 or knew yourself with your judgment, the fear 
 of your adventure would counsel you to a more 
 equal enterprise. We pray you, for your own 
 sake, to embrace your own safety, and give over 
 this attempt. 
 
 Ros. Do, young sir; your reputation shall not 
 therefore be misprized; we will make it our suit to 
 the duke, that the wrestling might not go forward. 
 
 Orl. I beseech ycua ? punish me not with your 
 hard thoushts ; wherein I confess me much guilty, 
 to deny so" fair and excellent ladies any thing. But 
 let vour fair eyes, and gentle wishes, go with me 
 to mv trial : wherein if I be foiled, there is but 
 one shamed that was never gracious ; if killed, but 
 one dead that is willing to be so : I shall do my 
 friends no wrong, for I have none to lament me ; 
 the world no injury, for in it I have nothing ; only 
 in the world I till up a place, which may be better 
 supplied when 1 have made it empty. 
 
 Ros. The little strength that 1 Have, I would it 
 were with you. 
 
 Cel. And mine, to eke out hers. 
 
 Ros. Fare you well. Pray heaven, I be de- 
 ceived in you ! 
 
 Cd. Your heart's desires be with you ! 
 
 Cha. Come, where is this young gallant, that is 
 so desirous to lie with his mother earth ? 
 
 Orl. Ready, sir ; but his will hath in it a more 
 modest working. 
 
 Duke F. You shall try but one fall. 
 
 Cha. No, I warrant your grace ; you shall not 
 entreat him to a second, that have so mightily per- 
 suaded him from a first. 
 
 Orl. You mean to mock me after ; you shouk 
 not have mocked me before: but come your ways. 
 
 Ros. Now, Hercules be thy speed, young man ! 
 
 Cel. I would I were invisible, to catch the strong 
 fellow by the leg. [Charles and Orlando wrestle. 
 
 Ros. excellent young man ! 
 
 Cel. If I had a thunderbolt in mine eye, I can 
 tell who should down. [Charles is thrown. Shout. 
 
 Duke F. No more, no more. 
 
 Orl. Yes, I beseech your grace ; I am not yet 
 well breathed. 
 
 Duke F. How dost thou, Charles ? 
 
 Le Beau. He cannot speak, my lord. 
 
 Duke F. Bear him away. [Charles is borne out.] 
 What is thy name young man ? 
 
 Cel. Gentle cousin, 
 
 jet us go thank him, and encourage him : 
 vly father's rough and envious disposition 
 Sticks me at heart. Sir, you have well desenr'd : 
 if you do keep your promises in love, 
 But justly, as you have exceeded promise, 
 Your mistress shall be happy. 
 
 Ros. Gentleman, 
 
 [Giving 1 Aim a chain from her neck. 
 Wear this for me ; one out of suits with fortune ;* 
 That could give more, but that her hand lacks 
 
 means. 
 Shall we go, coz ? 
 
 Cel. Ay: Fare you well, fair gentleman. 
 
 Orl. Can I not say, I thank you ? My better parts 
 Are all thrown down ; and that which here stands 
 Is but a quintain, 3 a mere Hfeless block. [up, 
 
 Ros. He calls us back : My pride fell with my 
 
 fortunes : 
 
 I'll ask him what he would : Did you call, sir? 
 Sir, you have wrestled well, and overthrown 
 More than your enemies. 
 
 Cel. Will you go, coz ? 
 
 Ros. Have with you : Fare you well. 
 
 [Exeunt Rosalind and Celia. 
 
 Orl. What passion hangs these weights upon 
 
 my tongue ? 
 I cannot speak to her, yet she urg'd conference. 
 
 Re-enter Le Beau. 
 
 poor Orlando ! thou art overthrown ; 
 
 Or Charles, or something weaker, masters thee. 
 
 Le Beau. Good sir, I do in friendship counsel you 
 To leave this place : Albeit, you have deserv'd 
 High commendation, true applause, and love ; 
 Yet such is now the duke's condition,* 
 That he misconstrues all that you have done. 
 The duke is humorous : what he is, indeed, 
 More suits you to conceive, than me to speak of. 
 
 Orl. I thank you, sir: and, pray you, tell me this ; 
 Which of the two was daughter of the duke 
 That here was at the wrestling ? 
 
 Le Beau. Neither his daughter, if we judge by 
 
 manners ; 
 
 But yet, indeed, the shorter is his daughter: 
 The other is daughter to the banish'd duke, 
 And here dctain'd by her usurping uncle, 
 To keep his daughter company ; whose loves 
 Are dearer than the natural bond of sisters. 
 
 Orl. Orlando, my liege ; the youngest son of But I can tell you, that of late this duke 
 sir Rowland de Bois. Hath ta'en displeasure 'gainst his gentle niece ; 
 
 Duke F. I would, thou hadst been son to some 
 
 man else. 
 
 The world esteem'd thy father honourable, 
 But I did find him still mine enemy : 
 Thou should'st have better pleas'd me with this 
 
 deed, 
 
 Hadst thou descended from another house. 
 But fare thee well ; thou art a gallant youth ; 
 I would, thou hadst told me of another father. 
 
 [Exeunt Duke Fred, train, and Le Beau. 
 Cel. Were I my father, coz, would I do this ? 
 Orl. I am more proud to be sir Rowland's son, 
 His youngest son ; and would not change that 
 
 calling. 1 
 To be adopted neir to Frederick. 
 
 Ros. My father lov'd sir Rowland as his soul, 
 And all the world was of my father's mind : 
 Had I before known this young man his son, 
 
 (1) Appellation. (2) Turned out of her service. 
 (3) The object to cart at in martial exercises. 
 
 Grounded upon no other argument, 
 But that the people praise Her for her virtues, 
 And pity her for her good father's sake ; 
 And, on my life, his malice 'pair.st the lady 
 Will suddenly break forth. Sir, fare you well ; 
 Hereafter, in a better world than this, 
 I shall desire more love and knowledge of you. 
 Orl. I rest much bounden to you ; fare you well ! 
 [Exit Le Beau. 
 
 Thus must I from the smoke into the smother ; 
 From tyrant duke, unto a tyrant brother : 
 But heavenly Rosalind! [Exit. 
 
 SCENE JIl.Jl room in the palace. 
 Celia and Rosalind. 
 
 Enter 
 
 Cel. Why, cousin ; why, Rosalind ; Cupid have 
 mercy ! Not a word ? 
 Ros. Not one to throw at a dog. 
 Cel. No, thy words are too precious to be cast 
 
 (4) Temper, disposition.
 
 AS YOU LIKE IT. 
 
 Atl L 
 
 away apdrt curs, threw some of them at me ; come, 
 lame me with reasons. 
 
 Ros. Then there were two cousins laid up ; when 
 the one should be lamed with reasons, and the other 
 mad without any. 
 
 Cel. But is all this for your father ? 
 
 Ros. No, some of it for my child's father : O, 
 how full of briers is this working-day world ! 
 
 Cel. They are but burs, cousin, thrown upon 
 thee in holiday foolery; if we walk not in the 
 trodden paths, our very petticoats will catch them. 
 
 Ros. I could shake them off my coat; these burs 
 are in mv heart. 
 
 Cel. Hem them away. 
 
 Ros. I would try ; if I could cry hem, and have 
 him. 
 
 Cel. Come, come, wrestle with thy affections. 
 
 Ros. O, they take the part of a better wrestler 
 than myself. 
 
 Cel. "O, a good wish upon you ! you will try in 
 time, in despite of a fall. But, turning these jests 
 out of service, let us talk in good earnest : Is it pos- 
 sible, on such a sudden, you should fall into so 
 strong a liking with old sir Rowland's youngest son ? 
 
 Ros. The duke my father lov'd his father dearly. 
 
 Cei. Doth it therefore ensue, that you should 
 lore his son dearly? By this kind of chase, I should 
 hate him, for my father hated his father dearly ; ' 
 yet I hate not Orlando. 
 
 Ros. No, 'faith, hate him not, for my sake. 
 
 Cel. Why should I not ? doth he not deserve well ? 
 
 Ros. Let me love him for that ; and do you love 
 him, because I do : Look, here comes the duke. 
 
 Cel. With his eyes full of anger. 
 
 Enter Duke Frederick, with lords. 
 
 Duke F. Mistress, despatch you with your safest 
 
 haste, 
 And get you from our court. 
 
 Ros. Me, uncle ? 
 
 Duke F. You, cousin ; 
 
 Within these ten days if that thou be'st found 
 So near our public court as twenty miles, 
 Thou diest for it. 
 
 Ros. I do beseech vour grace, 
 
 Let me the knowledge of my fauft bear v.ilh me : 
 If with myself I hold intelligence, 
 Or have acquaintance with mine own desires ; 
 If that I do not dream, or be not frantic, 
 (As I do trust I am not,) then, dear uncle, 
 Never, so much as in a thought unborn, 
 Did I offend your highness. 
 
 Duke F. Thus do all traitors ; 
 
 If their purgation did consist in words, 
 They are as innocent as grace itself: 
 Let it suffice thee, that I trust thee not. 
 
 Ros. Yet your mistrust cannot make me a traitor ; 
 Tell me, whereon the likelihood depends. 
 
 Duke F. Thou art thy father's daughter, there's 
 enough. 
 
 Ros. So was I, when your highness took his 
 
 dukedom ; 
 
 So was I, when your highness banish'd him ; 
 ' Treason is not inherited, my lord ; 
 Or, if we did derive it from our friends, 
 What's that to me ? my father was no traitor : 
 Then, good my liege, mistake me not so much, 
 To think my poverty is treacherous. 
 
 Cel. Dear sovereign, hear me speak. 
 
 Duke F. Ay, Celia ; we stay'd her for your sake, 
 Eke had she with her father rang'd along. 
 
 (1) Inveterately. (2) CompassicK. 
 
 (3) A dusky, ysilow-eoloured earth. 
 
 Cel. I did not then entreat to hare her stay, 
 It was your pleasure, and your own remorse ;* 
 I was too young that time to value her, 
 But now I know her: if she be a traitor, 
 Why so am I ; we still have slept together, 
 Rose at an instant, learn'd, play'd, eat together ; 
 And wheresoe'er we went, like Juno's swans, 
 Still we went coupled, and inseparable. 
 
 Duke F. She is too subtle for thee ; and her 
 
 smoothness, 
 
 Her very silence, and her patience, 
 Speak to the people, and they pity her. 
 Thou art a fool : she robs thee of thy name ; 
 And thou wilt show more bright, and seem more 
 
 virtuous, 
 
 When she is gone : then open not thy lips ; 
 Finn and irrevocable is my doom 
 Which I have pass'd upon her ; she is banish'd. 
 
 Cel. Pronounce that sentence then on me, my 
 
 liege 5 
 I cannot live out of her company. 
 
 Duke F. You are a fool : You, niece, provide 
 
 yoarself; 
 
 If you out-stay the time, upon mine honour, 
 And in the greatness of my word, you die. 
 
 [Exeunl Duke Frederick andlerdt. 
 
 Cel. O my poor Rosalind ! whither wilt thou go ? 
 Wilt thou change fathers ? I will give thee mine. 
 I charge thee, be not thou more griev'd than I am. 
 
 Ros. I have more cause. 
 
 Cel. Thou hast not, cousin ; 
 
 Pr'ythee, be cheerful : know'st thou not, the duke 
 Hath banish'd me his daughter ? 
 
 Ros. That he hath not. 
 
 Cel. No ? hath not ? Rosalind lacks then the love 
 Which teacheih thee that thou and I am one : 
 Shall we be sunder'd ? shall we part, siveet girl? 
 No ; let my father seek another heir. 
 Therefore devise with me, how we may fly, 
 Whither to go, and tvhat to bear with us ; 
 Ai:cl do not seek to take your change upon you, 
 To bear your griefs yourself, and leave me out ; 
 For, by this heaven, no\v at our sorrows pale, 
 Sav what thou canst, I'll go along with thee. 
 
 Iios. Why, whither shall we go" ? 
 
 Cel. To seek my uncle. 
 
 Ros. Alas, what danger will it be to us, 
 Maids as we are, to travel forth so far ? 
 
 The like do you ; so shall we pass along, 
 And never stir assailants. 
 
 Ros. Were it net better, 
 
 Because that I am more than common tall, 
 That I did suit me all points like a man ? 
 A crallant cui tie-axe" upon my thigh, 
 A boar-spear in my hand ; and (in my heart 
 Lie there what hidden woman's fear there will,) 
 We'll have a swashing and a martial outside ; 
 As many other mannish cowards have, 
 That do" outface it with their semblances. 
 
 Cel. What shall I call thee, when thou art a 
 man? 
 
 Ros. I'll have no worse a name than Jove's own 
 
 page, 
 
 And therefore look you call me, Ganvmede. 
 But. what will you be call'd? 
 
 Cel. Something that hath a reference to my state , 
 No longer Celia, but Aliena. 
 
 Ros. Bui, cousin, what if we assay'd to steal 
 The clownish fool out of your father's court? 
 
 (4) Cutlass. 
 
 (*) Swaggertaf.
 
 Scent 7, //, ///. 
 
 AS YOU LIKE IT. 
 
 209 
 
 Would he not be a comfort to our travel ? 
 
 Cel. He'll go along o'er the wide world with me 
 Leave me alone to woo him : Lei's away, 
 And get our jewels and our wealth together ; 
 Devise the fittest time, and safest way 
 To hide us from pursuit that will be made 
 After my flight : Now go we in content, 
 To liberty, and not to banishment. 
 
 ACT II. 
 
 SCENE I. The forest of Arden. Enter Duke 
 senior, Amiens, and oilier Lords, in the drtss of 
 Fortsters. 
 
 Duke S. Now, my co-mates, and brothers in 
 
 exile, 
 
 'Hath not old custom made this life more sweet 
 Than that of painted pomp? Are not these woods 
 More free from peril than the envious court? 
 Here feel we but the penalty of Adam, 
 The seasons' difference ; as the icy fansr, 
 And churlish chiding of the winter's wind ; 
 Which when it bites and blows upon my body, 
 Even till I shrink with coid, I smile, and say, 
 This is ho flattery : these are counsellors 
 That feelingly persuade me what I am. 
 Sweet are the uses of adversiiy ; 
 Which, like the toad, ugly and venomous, 
 Wears ^yet a precious jewel in his head ; 
 And thfs our life, exempt from public haunt, 
 Finds tongues in trees, books in the running brooks, 
 
 I'Tts right, quoth he ; this misery doth part 
 The flux of company : Anon, a careless herd, 
 !Full of the pasture, jumps along by him, 
 ! And never stays to greet him ; Jly, quoth Jaques, 
 j Sweep en, ymifat_ and ereasy citizens ; 
 'Tts just the fashion : Wherefore do you look 
 | Upon that poor and broken bankrupt there 1 
 [Exeunt. Thus most invectively he pierceth through 
 JThe body of the country, city, court, 
 Yea, ana of this our life ; swearing, that we 
 Are mere usurpers, tyrants, and what's worse, 
 To fright the animals, and to kill them up, 
 In their assi<rn'd and native dwelling-place. 
 Duke S. And did you leave him in this contem- 
 plation? 
 
 2 Lord. We did, my lord, weeping and com- 
 menting 
 
 Upon the sobbing deer. 
 
 Duke S. Show me the place ; 
 
 I love to cope* him in these sullen fits, 
 For then he's full of matter. 
 
 2 Lord. I'll bring you to him straight. [Exeunt. 
 
 S CL'JVE 1L Jl room in the palace. Enter Duke 
 
 Frederick, Lcrds, and attendants. 
 Duke F. Can it be possible, that no man law 
 them? 
 
 It cannot be: some villains of my court 
 
 Are of consent and sufferance in this. 
 
 1 Lord, I cannot hear of any that did see her. 
 The ladies, her attendants of her chamber, 
 
 j Saw her a-!)ed ; and, in the morning early, 
 They found the bed untreasur'd of their mistress. 
 
 2 Lord. My lord, the roynish 3 clown, at whom 
 
 so eft 
 
 Sermons in stones, and aood ii>-every ^ 
 
 Jmi. I would not change it: Happy is youri Your grace was wont to laugh, is also missing, 
 grace, Hesperia, the princess' gentlewoman, 
 
 Confesses, that she secretly o'erheard 
 Your daughter and her cousin much commend 
 
 That can translate the stubbornness of fortune 
 Into so quiet and so sweet a style. 
 
 Duke S. Come, shall we go "and kill us venison? 
 And yet it irks me, the poor'dappled fools, 
 Being native burghers of this desert city, 
 Should, in their own confines, with forked heads' 
 Have their round haunches gor'd. 
 
 1 Lord. Indeed, my lord, 
 
 The melancholy Jaques grieves at that ; 
 And, in that kind, swears you do more usurp 
 Than doth your brother that hath banish' d. you. 
 To-day, my lord of Amiens, and myself, 
 Did steal behind him, as he lay along 
 Under an oak, whose antique root peeps out 
 Upon the brook that brawls along this wood : 
 To the which place a poor sequester'd stag, 
 That from the hunters' aim had ta'en a hurt, 
 Did come to languish : and, indeed, my lord, 
 The wretched animal heav'd foV'.h such groans, 
 That their discharge did stretch his leathern coat 
 Almost to bursting ; and the big round tears 
 Cours'd one another down his innocent nose 
 In piteous chase : and thus the hairy fool, 
 Much marked of the melancholy Jaques, 
 Stood on the extremest verge of the s-.vifl Lrook, 
 Augmenting it with tears. 
 
 Duke S. 
 
 But what said Jaques ? 
 
 Did he not moralize this spectacle ? 
 
 1 Lord. O, yes, into a thousand sjmiles. 
 First, for his weeping in the needless stream ; 
 Poor deer, quoth he, thou mak'st a testament 
 Jis worldlings do, giving thy sum of more 
 To lliat which had too much : Then, being alone, 
 Left and abandon'd of his velvet friends ; 
 
 (1) Barbed arrows. (2) Encounter. (3) Scurry. 
 (4) Sink into dejection. (5) Memorial. 
 
 The parts and graces of the wrestler, 
 That did but lately foil the sinewy Charles ; 
 And she believes, wherever they are gone, 
 That youth is surely in their company. 
 Duke F. Send to his brother ; fetch that gallant 
 
 hither ; 
 
 [flie be absent, bring his brother to me, 
 ['11 make him find him : do this suddenly: 
 \nd let not search and inquisition quail 4 
 To bring again these foolish runaways. [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE III. Before Oliver's house. Enter Or- 
 lando and Adam, meeting. 
 
 Orl. Who's there ? 
 
 rfdam. What! my young master? 0, my gen- 
 tle master, 
 
 O, my sweet master, O you memory 5 
 Jf old sir Rowland ! why. what make you here? 
 Why are you virtuous ? Why do people love you ? 
 And wherefore are you gentle, strong, and valiant 
 Why would you be so fond" to overcome 
 The bony priser of the humorous duke ? 
 Your praise is come too swiftly home before y 
 Know you not, master, to some kind of men 
 Their grr^es serve them bat as enemies ? 
 No more do yours : your virtues, gentle master, 
 Are sanctified and holy traitors to you. 
 O, what a world is this, when what is comely 
 Envenoms him that bears it ? 
 
 Orl. Why, what's the matter? 
 
 Jldam. O unhappy yr.'jlb- 
 
 Come not within these doors ; within this roof 
 The enemy of all your graces lives : 
 
 (6) Inconsiderate. 
 2D
 
 210 
 
 AS YOU LIKE IT. 
 
 Jet tl. 
 
 Your brother (no, no brother : yet the son- 
 Yet not the son ; I will not call him son 
 Of him I was about to call his father,) 
 Hath heard your praises ; and this night he means 
 To burn the lodging where you used to lie, 
 And you within it : if he fail of that, 
 He will have other means to cut you off: 
 I overheard him, and his practices. 
 This is no place, 1 this house is but a butchery ; 
 Abhor it, fear it, do not enter it. 
 
 Orl. Why, whither, Adam, would'st thou have 
 me go? 
 
 Jf dam. No matter whither, so you come not here. 
 
 Orl. What, would'st thou have me go and beg 
 
 my food ? 
 
 Or, with a'base and boisterous sword, enforce 
 A thievish living on the common road ? 
 This I must do, or know not what to do : 
 Yet tfiis I will not do, do how I can ; 
 I rather will subject me to the malice 
 Of a diverted blood, 2 and bloody brother. 
 
 Mam. But do not so : I have five hundred 
 
 crowns, 
 
 The thrifty hire I sav'd under your father, 
 Which I did store, to be my foster-nurse, 
 When service should in my old limbs lie lame, 
 And unregarded ace in corners thrown ; 
 Take that : and He that doth the ravens feed, 
 Yea, providently caters for the sparrow, 
 Be comfort to my age ! Here is the gold ; 
 All this I give you : Let me be your servant ; 
 Though I look old, yet I am strong and lusty : 
 For in my youth I never did apply 
 Hot and rebellious liquors in my blood ; 
 Nor did not with unbashful forehead woo 
 The means of weakness and debility ; 
 Therefore my age is as a lusty winter, 
 Frosty, but kindly : Let me go with you ; 
 I'll do the service of a younger man 
 In all your business and necessities. 
 
 Orl. O good old n.an ; how well in thee appears 
 The constant service of the antique world, 
 When service sweat for duty, not for meed ! 
 Thou art not for the fashion of these times, 
 Where none will sweat, but for promotion ; 
 And having that, do choke their service up 
 Even with the bavins: : it is not so with thee. 
 But, poor old man, thou prun'st a rotten tree, 
 That cannot so much as a blossom yield, 
 In lieu of all thy pains and husbandry : 
 But come thy ways, we'll go along together ; 
 And ere we have thy youthful wages spent, 
 We'll light upon some settled low content. 
 
 Adam. Master, go on ; and I will follow thee, 
 To the last gasp, with truth and loyalty. 
 From seventeen years till now almost fourscore 
 Here lived I, but now live here no more. 
 At seventeen years many their fortunes seek ; 
 But at fourscore, it is too late a week ; 
 Yet fortune cannot recompense me better, 
 Than to die well, and not my master's debtor. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE IV. The Forest of Jjrden. Enter 
 
 Rosalind m boy's rlothes, Celia drest like a 
 
 Shepherdess, and Touchstone. 
 
 Ros. Jupiter ! how weary are my spirits ! 
 
 Touch. I care not for my spirits, if my legs were 
 Dot weary. 
 
 Ros. 1 could find in my heart to disgrace jny 
 
 !1) Mansion, residence. 
 1) Blood turned from its natural course. ' 
 >) A piece of money stamped with a crow* 
 
 man's apparel, and to cry like a woman : but I must 
 comfort the weaker vessel, as doublet and hose 
 ought to show itself courageous to petticoat : there- 
 fore, courage, good Aliena. 
 
 Cel. I pray you, bear with me ; I cannot go no 
 further. 
 
 Touch. For my part, I had rather bear with you, 
 than bear you : yet I should bear no cross,* if I did 
 bear you ; for, I think, you have no money in your 
 purse. 
 
 Ros. Well, this is the forest of Arden. 
 
 Touch. Ay, now am I in Arden : the more fool 
 I ; when I was at home, I was in a better place ; 
 but travellers must be content. 
 
 Ros. Ay, be so, good Touchstone : Look you 
 who comes here ; a young man, and an old, in 
 solemn talk. 
 
 Enter Corin and Silvius. 
 
 Cor. That is the way to make her scorn you still. 
 
 Sil. Corin, that thou knew'st how I do love her! 
 
 Cor. I partly guess ; for I have lov'd ere now. 
 
 Sil. No, Corin, being old, thou canst not guess ; 
 Though in thy youth thou wast as true a lover 
 As ever sisrh'd upon a midnight piljow : 
 But if thy love were ever like to mine 
 (As sure I think did never man love so,) 
 How many actions most ridiculous 
 Hast thou been drawn to by thy fantasv T 
 
 Cor. Into a thousand that I have forgotten. 
 
 Sil. O, thou didst then ne'er love so heartily : 
 If thou remember'st not the slightest folly 
 That ever love did make thee run into, 
 Thou hast not lov'd : 
 Or if thou hast not sat. as I do now, 
 Wearying thy hearer in thy mistress' praise, 
 Thou hast not lov'd ; 
 Or if thou has not broke from company, 
 Abruptly, as my passion jiow makes me, 
 Thou hast not lov'd : O Phebe, Phcbe, Phebe ! 
 
 [Exit Silvius. 
 
 Ros. Alas, poor shepherd ! searching of thy 
 
 wound, 
 I have by hard adventure found mine own. 
 
 Touch. And I mine : I remember, when I was 
 in love, I broke my sword upon a stone, and bid 
 him take that for coming ani<rht* to Jane Smile : 
 and I remember the kissing of her batlet, 6 and the 
 cow's dugs that her pretty chop'd hands had milk'd : 
 and I remember the wooing of a peascod instead 
 of her ; from whom I took two cods, and giving 
 her them again, said with weeping tears, "Wear 
 these for my sake. We, that are true lovers, run 
 into strange capers ; but as all is mortal in nature, 
 so is all nature in love mortal in folly. 
 
 Ros. Thou speak'st wiser, than thou art 'ware of. 
 
 Touch. Nay, I shall ne'er be 'ware of mine own 
 wit, till I break my shins against it. 
 
 Ros. Jove ! Jove ! this shepherd's passion 
 Is much upon my fashion. 
 
 Touch. And mine ; but it grows something stale 
 with me. 
 
 Cel. I pray you, one of you question yond man, 
 If he for gold will give us any food ; 
 I faint almost to death. 
 
 Touch. Holla ; you, clown ! 
 
 Ros. Peace, fool ; he's not thy kinsman. 
 
 Cor. Who calls ? 
 
 Touch. Your betters, sir. 
 
 Cor. Else are they very wretched. 
 
 (4) In the night. 
 
 (5) The instrument with which waster* ta? 
 clgthc*.
 
 F, F/, Vll. 
 
 AS YOU LIKE If. 
 
 211 
 
 Peace, I say : Come, sing; and you that will not, hold yonr 
 ' tongues. > 
 
 Jhd, Well, I'll end the song. Sirs, cover the 
 while ; the duke will drink under this tree: he 
 hath been all this day to look you. 
 
 Ros. 
 
 Good even to you, friend. 
 
 Cor. And to you, gentle sir, and to you all. 
 
 Ros. I pr'ythee, shepherd, if that love, or gold, 
 
 Can in this desert place buy entertainment, " "*-- - j ";-. : 
 
 Bring us where we may rest ourselves, and feed : ; Jaq. And I have been all this day to avoid him. 
 Here's a voung maid with travel much oppress'd, He is too disputable 1 for my company : I think of 
 
 And faints' for succour. j as many matters as he ; but I give heaven thanks, 
 
 Fair sir, I pity her, and make no boast of them. Come, warble, come. 
 
 And wish for her sake, more than for mine own, 
 My fortunes were more able to relieve her : 
 But I am shepherd to another man, 
 And do not shear the fleeces that I graze ; 
 My master is of churlish disposition, 
 And little recks 1 to find the way to heaven 
 By doing deeds of hospitality : 
 Besides, his cote, his flocks, and hounds of feed, 
 Are now on sale, and at our sheepcote now, 
 By reason of his absence, there is nothing 
 That you will feed on : but what is, come see, 
 And in my voice most welcome shall you be. 
 
 Ros. What is he that shall buy his flock and 
 pasture ? 
 
 Cor. That voung swain that you saw here but 
 
 erewhile, 
 That little cares for buying any thin?. 
 
 Ros. I pray thee, if it stand with honesty, 
 Buy thou the cottage, pasture, and the flock, 
 And thou shall have to pay for it of us. 
 
 Cel. And we will mend thy wages : I like this 
 
 place, 
 And willingly could wa=tf> rnv time in it. 
 
 Cor. Assuredly, the thing is to be sold : 
 Go with me ; if you like, upon report, 
 The soil, the profit, and this kind of life, 
 I will your verv faithful feeder be, 
 And buy it with your gold right suddenly. 
 
 [Exe. 
 
 Ami. 
 
 and others. 
 
 SONG. 
 Under the greenwood tree, 
 
 Who loves to lie vilh me, 
 ilnd tune his merry note 
 Unto the swe.et bird's throat, 
 Come hither, come hither, come hitlttr; 
 Here shall he see 
 No enemy, 
 But winter and rough weather. < 
 
 Jaq. More, more, I pr'ythee, more. 
 
 4nu. It will make you melancholy, monsieur 
 Jaques. 
 
 Jaq. I thank it. More, I pr'ythee, more. I can 
 suck melancholy out of a song, as a weazel sucks 
 eggs : More, I pr'ythee, more. 
 
 My voice" is ragged ; s I know, I cannot 
 
 please you. 
 
 Jaq. I do not desire you to please me, I do desjre 
 you to sing: Come, more; another stanza ; Call 
 you them stanzas ? 
 
 .flmt. What you will, monsieur Jaques. 
 
 Jaq. Nay, I care not for their names ; they owe 
 me nothinsr : Will you sinar ? 
 
 ^fmt. More at your request, than to please myself. 
 
 Jaq. Well then, if ever I thank any man, IT 
 thank you : but that they call compliment, is like 
 the encounter of two dog-apes ; and when a man 
 thanks me heartily, methinks I have given him a 
 penny, and he records me the beggarly thanks. 
 
 M) Cares. 
 
 (2) Ragged and rugged had formerly the lame 
 awaiting 
 
 SONG. 
 
 Who doth ambition shun, [All together here. 
 Jnd lores to live t' the sun, 
 Seeking the food he eats, 
 .ind pleas'd with what he gets. 
 Come hither, come hither, come hither; 
 Here shall he see 
 No enemy, 
 
 But winter and rough weather. 
 Jaq. I'll rive you a verse to this note, that 1 
 made yesterday in despite of my invention. 
 .Jim. And I'll sing it. 
 Jaq. Thus it goes : 
 
 If it do come to pass, 
 That any man turn ass, 
 , Leaving his wealth and ease, 
 J stubborn will to please, 
 Ducdame, ducdame, ducdame; 
 Here shall he see, 
 Gross fools as he, 
 ?n if he will come to .imi. 
 ?mf. What's that ducdame 1 
 Jaq. 'Tis a Greek invocation, to call fools into A 
 circle. I'll go sleep if I can ; if I cannot, I'll rail 
 against all the first-born of Egypt. 
 f .1m;. And I'll go seek the duke ; his banquet is 
 prepar'd. [Exeunt severally. 
 
 SCENE VI. The same. Enter Orlando and 
 Adam. 
 
 Mam. Dear master, I can go no further : O, I 
 die for food ! Here lie I down, and measure out 
 my grave. Farewell, kind master. 
 
 OH. Why, how now, Adam ! no greater heart 
 in thee ? Live a little ; comfort a little ; cheer thy- 
 self a little : If this uncouth forest yield any thing 
 savage, I will either be food for it," or bring it for 
 food to thee. Thy conceit is nearer death than 
 thy powers. For my sake, be comfortable ; hold 
 death a while at the arm's end : I will here be with 
 thee presently ; and if I brin<r thee not something 
 to eat, I'll give thee leave to die : but if thou diest 
 before I come, thou art a mocker of mv labour. 
 Well said ! thou look'st choerly : and I'll be with 
 Ihee quickly. Yet thon liest in the bleak air : 
 Come, I will bear thee to some shelter ; and thou 
 shalt not die for lack of a dinner, if there live any 
 thing in this desert. Cheerly, good Adam ! [Exe . 
 
 SCENE VII. The same. .1 table set out. Enter 
 Duke senior, Amiens, Lords, and others. 
 
 Duke S. I think he be transform'd into a beast ; 
 For I can no where find him like a man. 
 
 " 1 Lord. My lord, he is but even now gone hence ; 
 Here was he merry, hearing of a song. 
 
 Duke S. If he, compact of jars, 4 grow musical, 
 We shall have shortly discord in the spheres : 
 Go, seek him ; tell him, I would speak with him. 
 
 Enter Jaques. 
 1 Lard. He saves my labour by his own approach, 
 
 (3) Disputatious. (4) Made up of discords.
 
 812 
 
 AS YOU LIKE IT. 
 
 Act II. 
 
 Duke S. Why, how now, monsieur! what a lifelThe cost of princes on unworthy shoulders ? 
 
 ,i * AVK/* /IM onmn in a nH n-tv 1nnr I mpan hpr. 
 
 is this, 
 
 That your poor friends must woo your company ? 
 VVhat ! you look merrily. 
 
 Jaq. A fool, a fool ! 1 met a fool i' the forest, 
 
 A motley fool ; a miserable woiid ! 
 As I do live by food, I met a fool 
 Who laid him down and bask'd him in the sun, 
 And rail'd on lady Fortune in good terms, 
 In good set terms, and yet a motley fool. 
 Good-marrow, fool, quoth I : No, sir, quoth he, 
 Call me net fool, till neaven hath sent me fortune : 
 And then he drew a dial from his poke ; 
 And looking/on it with lack-lustre eye, 
 Says, very wisely, It is ten o'clock : 
 Thus may we see, quoth he, how the world wags : 
 Tt* but an hour ago, since it ions nine; 
 And after an hour more, 'twill be eleven ; 
 And so, from hour to hour, we ripe, and ripe, 
 And then, from hour to hour, we rot, and rot, 
 And thereby hangs a tale. When I did hear 
 The motley fool thus moral on the time, 
 My lungs began to crow like chanticleer. 
 That fools should be s deep-contemplative ; 
 And I did laugh, sans intermission, 
 An hour by his dial. O noble fool ! 
 A worthv fool ! Motley's the only wear. 1 
 Duke 'S. What fool is this ? 
 Jaq. O worthy fool! One that hath beea a 
 
 courtier ; 
 
 And says, if ladies be but young, and fair, 
 They have the gift to know it : and in his brain, 
 Winch is as dry as the remainder bisket 
 After a voyage, he hath strange places cramm'd 
 With observation, the which he vents 
 In mangled forms : 0, that I were a fool ! 
 I am ambitious for n motley coat. 
 Duke S. Thou shalt have one. 
 Jaq. It is my only suit ; 
 
 Provided, that you weed your better judgments 
 Of all opinion that grows rank in them, 
 That I am wise. I must have liberty 
 Withal, as large a charter as the wind, 
 To blow on whom I please ; for ?o fools have : 
 And they that are most galled with my folly, 
 They most must laugh : And why. sir, must they so ? 
 The why is plain us way to parish church : 
 He, that a fool doth ve'y wisely hit, 
 Doth very foolishly, although he smart, 
 Not to seem senseless of the bob : if not, 
 The wise man's folly is anatomiz'd 
 Even by the squandering phuice.s of the fool. 
 Invest me in my motley ; eive me leave 
 To speak my mind, and I will through and through 
 Cleanse the foul body of the infected world, 
 If they will patiently receive my .medicine. 
 Duke S. Fie on thee ! I can tell what thou 
 
 would'st do. 
 
 Jaq. What, for a counter, would I do, but good ? 
 Duke S. Most mischievous foul sin, in chiding sin: 
 For thou thyself hast been a libertine, 
 As sensual as the brutish sting itself; 
 And all the embossed sores, and headed evils 
 That thou with license of free foot hast caught, 
 Would'st thou disgorge into the general world. 
 
 Jaq. Why, who cries out on pride, 
 That can therein tax any private party ? 
 Doth it not flow as hugely as the sea. 
 Till that the very very means do ebb ? 
 What woman in the city do I name, 
 When that I say, The city- woman bears 
 
 Who can come in, and say, that I mean her, 
 
 When such a one as she, such is her neighbour? 
 
 Or what is he of basest function, 
 
 That sriys, his bravery 11 is not on my cost 
 
 (Thinking that I mean him,) but therein suit 
 
 His folly "to the mettle of my speech? 
 
 There then ; How, what then Y Let me see wherein 
 
 My tongue hath wrong'd him : if it do him right, 
 
 Then he hath wrong'd himself; if he be free, 
 
 Why then, my taxing like a wild goose fiies, 
 
 Unclaim'a of any man. But who comes here ? 
 
 Enter Orlando, icitk his sword drawn. 
 
 Orl. Forbear, and eat no more. 
 
 Jan. Why, I have eat none yet. 
 
 Orl. Nor shalt not, till necessity be serv'd. 
 
 Jaq. Of what kind should this cock come of? 
 
 Duke S. Art thou thus bolden'd, man; by thy 
 
 distress ; 
 
 Or else a rud? dcspier of prood manners, 
 That in civility thou seem'st so empty ? 
 
 Orl. You touch'd my vein at first ; the thorny 
 
 point 
 
 Of bare distress hath ta'en from me the show 
 Of smooth civility : yet am I inland bred, 1 
 And know some nurture : 4 But forbear, I say ; 
 He dies, that touches any of this fruit, 
 Til| I and my affairs are answered. 
 
 Jaq. An you will not be answered with reason, 
 [ must die. 
 
 Duke S. What would you have ? Your gentle- 
 ness shall force, 
 More than your force move us to gentleness. 
 
 Orl. I almost die for food, and let me have it. 
 
 Duke S. Sit down and feed, welcome to our 
 table. 
 
 Orl. Speak you so gently? Pardon me, I pray 
 
 you: 
 
 I thought that a'.l things had been savage here ; 
 And therefore put I on the countenance 
 Of stern commandment : But whate'er you are, 
 That in this desert inaccessible, 
 Under the shade of melancholy boughs, 
 Lose and neglect the creeping hours of time ; 
 If ever you have look'd on better days; 
 If ever been where bells have knoll'd to church ; 
 If ever sat at any good man's feast ; 
 If ever from your eyf-lids wip'd a tear ? 
 And know what 'tis to pity, and be pitied ; 
 Let gentleness my strong enforcement be : 
 In the which hope, I blush, and hide my swor'd. 
 Duke S. True is it that we have seen bettei 
 
 day_s ; 
 
 And have with holy bell been knoll'd to church ; 
 And sat at good men's feasts ; and wip'il our eyes 
 Of drops that sacred pity hath cngender'd : 
 And therefore sit you down in gentleness, 
 And take upon command what help we have, 
 That to your wantinqr may be ministred. 
 
 Orl. Then, but forbear your food a little while, 
 Whiles, like a doe, I fro to find my fawn, 
 And give it food. There is an oiil poor rnan, 
 Who after me hath many a weary step 
 Limp'd in pure love ; till he be Jirst suffic'd, 
 Oppress'd with two weak evils, age and hunger, 
 I vill not touch a bit. 
 
 Duke S. Go find him out, 
 
 And v,-e will nothing waste till yon return. 
 
 Ori. I thank ye ; and be bless'd for your pood 
 comfort ! [Exit, 
 
 (I) The fool was anciently dressed in a party- 
 coloured coat. 
 
 2) Finer)-. (3) Well brought up. 
 
 Good manners.
 
 Scnif /, 11. 
 
 AS YOU LIKE IT. 
 
 213 
 
 Duke S. Thou seest, we are not all alone un- 
 happy : 
 
 This wide and universal theatre 
 Presents more woful pageants than the scene 
 Wherein we play in. 
 
 Jaq. All the world's a stage, 
 
 And all the men and women merely players : 
 They have their exits, and their entrances ; 
 And" one man in his time plays many parts % 
 His acts being seven age*. At first, the infant, 
 Mewling and puking in the nurse's arms : 
 And then, the whining school-boy, with his satchel, 
 And shining morning face, creeping like snail 
 Unwillingly to school : And then, the lover ; 
 Sighing like furnace, with a. woful ballad 
 Made to his mistress' eye-brow : Then, a soldier ; 
 Full of strange oaths, and bearded like the pard, 
 Jealous in honour, sudden 1 and quick in quarrel, 
 Seeking the bubble reputation 
 Even in the cannon's mouth : And then, the justice ; 
 In fair round belly, with good capon lin'd, 
 With eyes severe, and beard of formal cut, 
 Full of "wise saws and modern 2 instances, 
 And so he plays his part : The sixth age shifts 
 Into the lean and slipper'd pantaloon ; 
 With spectacles on nose, and pouch on side ; 
 His vouthful hose well sav'd, a ivorld too wide 
 For his shrunk shank ; and his big manly voice, 
 Turning asjain toward childish treble, pipes 
 And whistles in his sound : Last r-cene of all, 
 That ends this strange eventful history, 
 Is second childishness, and mere oblivion ; 
 Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans every thing. 
 
 Re-enter Orlando, \cilh Adam. 
 Duke S. Welcome: set down your venerable 
 
 burden, 
 And let him feed. 
 
 Orl. I thank you most for him. 
 
 Mam. So had vou need ; 
 I scarce can speak to thr.nk you for myself. 
 
 Duke S. Welcome, fall to : I will not trouble you 
 As yet, to question you about your fortunes : 
 Give us some music ; and, good cousin, sing. 
 Amiens sings. 
 SONG. 
 
 I. 
 
 Blow, Wow, then winter wind, 
 Thou art not so unkind 1 
 Jls man's ingratitude ; 
 Thy tooth is not so keen, 
 Because thou art not seen, 
 
 Although thy breath be rude. 
 Heigh, ho ! sing, heigh, ho ! unto the green holly : 
 Alzst friendship is feigning, most latins; mere 
 
 folly : 
 
 Then, hei'h, ho, the holly! 
 This life is mostjollij. 
 
 II. 
 
 Freeze, freeze, thou bilttr sky, 
 That dost not bite so nigh, 
 
 Jls benefits forgot : 
 Though thott the waters warp, 
 Thy sling is not so sharp 
 
 Jlsfrieiid remembered* not. 
 Heigh, ho ! sing, heigh, ho ! fyc. 
 
 Duki S. If that you were the good sir Row- 
 land's son, 
 
 \s you have whisper'd faithfully, you were ; 
 Ana as mine eye doth his effigies witness 
 Most truly limn'd, and living in your face, 
 Be truly welcome hither: I am the duke, 
 That lov'd your lather : The residue of your fortune, 
 Go to my cave and tell me. Good old man, 
 Thou art right welcome as thy master is : 
 Support him by the arm. 1 Give me your hand. 
 And let me all your fortunes understand. [Exe. 
 
 ACT III. 
 
 SCENE /. *1 room in the palace. Enter Duke 
 Frederick, Oliver, Lords, and attendants. 
 
 Duke F. Not see him since ? Sir, sir, that can- 
 not.be: 
 
 ut were I not the better part made mercy, 
 I should not seek an absent argument 
 Of my revenge, thou present: "But look to it ; 
 Find 'out thy'brother, wheresoe'er he is ; 
 Srek him w'itli candle ; bring him dead or living, 
 Within this twelvemonth, or turn thou no more 
 To seek a living in our territory. 
 Thy lands, and all tilings that thou dost call thine, 
 W'orth seizure, do we seize into our hands : 
 Till thou canst quit thee by thy brother's mouth, 
 Of what we think against thee. 
 
 OIL 0, that your highness knew my heart in this ' 
 I never lov'd my brother in my life. 
 
 Duke F. More villain thou. Well, push him 
 
 out of doors ; 
 
 And let my officers of such a nature 
 Make an extent*- upon his house and lands : 
 Do this expediently, 6 and turn him going. [Exe. 
 
 SCEJfE II. The Forest. Enter Orlando, with 
 a paper. 
 
 Orl. Hang there, my verse, in witness of my love : 
 
 And, thou, thrice-crowned queen of niglit, survey 
 With thy chaste eye, from thy pale sphere above, 
 
 Thy huntress' name, that my full life doth sway. 
 Ro'salind ! these tree* shall be my books, 
 
 And in their barks my thoughts I'll character; 
 That every eye, which in this forest looks, 
 
 Shall see thy virtue witness'd every where. 
 Run, run, Orlando ; carve, on every tree, 
 The fair, the chaste, and unexpresslve' she. {Exit. 
 
 Enter Corin and Touchstone. 
 
 Cor. And how like you this shepherd's life, mas- 
 ter Touchstone? 
 
 Touch. Truly, shepherd, in respect of itself, it 
 is a good life ; but in respect that it is a shepherd's 
 life, it is nought. In respect that it is solitary, I 
 like it very well ; but in respect that it is private, 
 it is a very vile life. Now in respect it is in the 
 fields, it pleaseth me well ; but in respect it is not 
 in the court, it is tedious. As it is a spare life, 
 look you, it fits my humour well ; but as there is no 
 more plenty in it, it goes much against my stomach. 
 Hast thou any philosophy in thee, shepherd ? 
 
 Cor. No more, but that I know, the more one 
 sickens, the worse at ease he is ; and that he that 
 wants money, means, and content, is without three 
 good friends': That the property of rain is to wet, 
 and fire to burn : That good pasture makes fat 
 sheep ; and that a great cause of the night, is lack 
 of the sun : That he, that hath learned no wit by 
 
 15! 
 
 1) Violent. 
 3) Unnatural. 
 
 (2) Trite, common. 
 (4) Remembering. 
 
 (5) Seize by legal process. 
 (7) Inexpressible. 
 
 (6) Expeditiously.
 
 214 
 
 AS YOU LIKE IT. 
 
 Act 111. 
 
 nature nor art, may complain of good breeding, or 
 comes of a very dull kindred. 
 
 Touch. Such a one is a natural philosopher. 
 Wast ever in court, shepherd ? 
 
 Cor. No, truly. 
 
 Touch. Then thou art damn'd. 
 
 Cor. Nay, I hope, 
 
 Touch. Truly, thou art damn'd; like an ill- 
 roasted egg, all on one side. 
 
 Cor. For not being at court ? Your reason. 
 
 Touch. Why, if tnou never'wast at court, thou 
 never saw'st good manners ; if thou never saw'st 
 good manners, then thy manners must be wicked ; 
 and wickedness is sin, and sin is damnation : Thou 
 art in a parlous state, shepherd. 
 
 Cor. Not a whit, Touchstone: those, that are 
 good manners, at the court, are as ridiculous in the 
 country, as the behaviour of the country is most 
 mockable at the court. You told me, you salute 
 not at the court, but you kiss your hands ; that 
 courtesy would be uncleanly, if courtiers were 
 shepherds. 
 
 Touch. Instance, briefly ; come, instance. 
 
 Cor. Why, we are still handling our ewes ; and 
 their fells, vou know, are greasy. 
 
 Touch. VVhy, do not your courtier's hands 
 sweat ? and is not the grease of a mutton as whole- 
 some as the sweat of a man? Shallow, shallow: 
 A better instance, I say ; come. 
 
 Cor. Besiiles, our hands are hard. 
 
 Touch. Your lips will feel them the sooner. 
 Shallow, again: A more sounder instance, come. 
 
 Cor. And they are often tarr'd over with the 
 surgery of our sheep ; And would you have iis kiss 
 tar? The courtier's hands are perfumed with civet. 
 
 Touch. Most shallow man ! Thou worms-meat, 
 in respect of a good piece of flesh : Indeed ! 
 Learn of the wise, and perpend : Civet is of a 
 baser birth than tar ; the very uncleanly flux of a 
 cat. Mend the instance, shepherd. 
 
 Cor. You have too courtly a wit for me ; I'll rest. 
 
 Touch. Wilt thou rest damn'd ? God help thee, 
 shallow man ! God make incision in thee ! thou art 
 raw. ' 
 
 Cor. Sir, I am a true labourer; I earn that I 
 eat, get that I wear ; owe no man hate, envy no 
 man's happiness ; glad of other men's pood, con- 
 tent with my harm : and the greatest of my pri^.e 
 is, to see my ewes graze, and my lambs suck. 
 
 Touch. That is another simple sin in you ; to 
 bring the ewes and the rams together, and to ofler 
 to pet your living by the copulation of cattle : to 
 be bawd to a bell-wether; and to betray a she- 
 Iamb of a twelvemonth, to a crookcd-pated, old, 
 cuckoldly ram, out of all reasonable match. II 
 thou be'st not damn'd for this, the devil himself 
 will have no shepherds; I cannot see ebe how 
 thou should'st 'scape. 
 
 Cor. Here comes young master Ganymede, my 
 new mistress's brother. 
 
 Enter Rosalind, reading a paper. 
 Ros. From the east to western Ind, 
 
 No jewel is like Rosalind. 
 
 Her worth, being mounted on the wind, 
 
 Through all the world bears Rosalind. 
 
 4ll the pictures, fairest lin'd," 
 
 Arc but black to Rosalind. 
 
 J^et no face be kept in mind, 
 
 But the fair^ of Rosalind. 
 Touch. I'll rhyme you so, eight years together ; 
 
 M) Unexperienced. (2} Delineated. 
 
 (S) Complexion, beauty. (4) Grave, solemn. 
 
 dinners, and suppers, and sleeping hours excepted* 
 it is the right butter-woman's rank to market. 
 Ros. Out, fool! 
 
 Touch. For a taste : 
 
 Jf a hart do lack a hind, 
 Let him seek cut Rosalind. 
 Jf the cat will after kind, 
 So, be sure, will Rosalind. 
 Winter-garments mutt be lMd t 
 So must slender Rosalind. 
 They that reap, must sheaf and bind; 
 Then to cart with Rosalind. 
 Sweetest nut hath sourest rind, 
 Such a nut is Rosalind. 
 He that sweetest rose will find, 
 Must find love's prick, and Rosalind. 
 This is the very false gallop of verses ; Why do 
 you infect yourself with them ? 
 Ros. Peace, you dull fool ; I found them on a tree. 
 Touch. Truly, the tree yields bad fruit. 
 Ros. I'll grail it with you, and then I shall graft 
 it with a medlar : then it wiil be the earliest Truit 
 in the country: for you'll be rotten ere you be half 
 ripej and that's the right virtue of the medlar. 
 
 Touch. You have said; but whether wisely or 
 no, let the, forest judge. 
 
 Enitr Cclia, reading a paper. 
 
 Ros. Peace! 
 
 Here comes my sister, reading ; stand aside. 
 Cel. Why should this desert silent be ? 
 
 For it is unpeopled 1 No; 
 Tongues Fll nans; en every tree, 
 That shall civil 4 sayings show. 
 Some, Itcw brief the life of man 
 
 Runs his erring pilgrimage; . 
 That the stretching oj a span 
 Luckles J7i Ins sum of age. 
 Some, of violated vows 
 
 'Twixt the souls of friend and friend: 
 But upon the fairest boughs, 
 Or at evert/ sentence' end, 
 Will I Rosalinda write ; 
 
 Teaching all tliat read, to know 
 The quintessence of every sprite 
 
 Heaven would in little show. 
 Therefore heaven nature charged 
 
 That one body should befiird 
 With all graces wide enlarged : 
 
 Nature presently distill'a 
 Helen's cheek, but not her heart; 
 
 Cleopatra's majesty ; 
 Jllalanta's better part ; 
 
 Sad Lucre titfs modesty. 
 Tints Rosalind of many parts 
 
 Jjij heavenly synod icas devis'd; 
 Of many faces, eyes, and hearts, 
 
 To have the tmiches* dearest priz'd. 
 Heaven icculd that she these gifts snould have, 
 1nd I to live and die her slave. 
 Ros. O most gentle Jupiter! what tedious ho- 
 mily of love have you wearied your parishioners 
 withal, and never cry'd, Have patience, good 
 peonle .' 
 
 Cel. How now! back, friends; Shepherd, go 
 off' a little : Go with him, sirrah. 
 
 Touch. Come, shepherd, let us make an honour- 
 able retreat ; though not with bag and bajrpaere, yel 
 with scrip and scnppajre. [Exe. Cor. and Touch. 
 Cel. Didst thou hear these verses ? 
 Res. 0, yes, I heard them all, and more too ; 
 
 (5) Features.
 
 AS YOU LIKE IT. 
 
 215 
 
 for some or them had in them more feet than the 
 rerses would bear. 
 
 Cel. That's no matter ; the feet might bear the 
 Terses. 
 
 Ros. Ay, but the feet were lame, and could not 
 bear themselves without the verse, and therefore 
 stood lamely in the verse. 
 
 Cel. But didst thou hear, without wondering 
 how thy name should be hang'd and carv'd upon 
 these trees ? 
 
 Ros. I was seven of the nine days out of the 
 wonder, before you came ; for look here what I 
 found on a palm-tree : I was never so be-rhymed curvets very unseasonably. 
 
 the propositions of a lover : but take a taste of my 
 finding him, and relish it with a good observance. 
 I found him under a tree, like a dropp'd acom. 
 
 Ros. It may well be call'd Jove's tree, when it 
 drops forth such fruit. 
 
 Cel. Give me audience, good madam. 
 
 Ros. Proceed. 
 
 Cel. There lay he, stretch'd along, like a wounded 
 knight. 
 
 Ros. Though it be pity to see such a sight, it 
 well becomes the ground. 
 
 Cel. Cry, holla! to thy tongue, I pr'ythee; it 
 
 rvpt vprv imepncnnnVtlv HP Was fumish'd like 
 
 Ros. O ominous ! he comes to kill my heart. 
 
 Cel. I would sing my song without a burden : 
 thou bring'st me out of "tune. 
 
 Ros. Do you not know I am a woman ? when I 
 think, I must speak. Sweet, say on. 
 
 since Pythagoras' time, that I was an Irish rat, a hunter, 
 which I can nardly remember. 
 
 Cel. Trow you, who hath done IMS '! 
 Ros. Is it a man ? 
 
 Cel. And a chain, that you once wore, about his 
 neck : Change you colour ? 
 Ros. I pr'ythee. who ? 
 
 Cel, lord, lord ! it is a hard matter for friends Ent f r Orlando and Jaques. 
 
 to meet ; but mountains may be removed with] Cel. You bring me out : Soft ! comes he not 
 earthquakes, and so encounter. here ? 
 
 Ros. 'Tis he ; slink by, and note him. 
 
 [Celia and Rosalind retire. 
 Jaq. I thank you for your company ; but, good 
 faith, I had as lief have been myself alone. 
 
 Ros. Nay, but who is it .' 
 Cel. Is it possible ? 
 
 Ros. Nay, I pray thee now, with most petition- 
 ary vehemence, tell me who it is. 
 
 Cel. O wonderful, wonderful, and most wonder- 
 
 ful wonderful, and yet again wonderful, and after 
 that out of all whoo'ping ! ' 
 
 Ros. Good my complexion ! dost, thou think, 
 though I am caparison'd like a man, I have a dou- 
 blet and hose in my disposition? One inch of delay 
 more is a South-sea-oil discovery.* I pr'ythee, tell 
 me, who is it? quickly, and speak apace : I would 
 thou could'st stammer, that thou might'st pour 
 this concealed man out of thy mouth, as wine 
 comes out of a narrow-mouth'd bottle ; either too 
 much at once, or none at all. I pr'ythee, take the 
 cork out of thy mouth, that I may drink thv tidings. 
 
 Cel. So you may put a man in your bell}'. 
 
 Ros. Is ne of God's making? What manner of 
 man ? Is his head worth a hat, or his chin worth a 
 beard? 
 
 Cel. Nay, he hath but a little beard. 
 
 Ros. Why, God will send more, if the man will conn'd them out of rings ? 
 
 be thankful : let me stay the groivth of his beard, 
 if thou delay me not the knourledge*of his chin. 
 Cel. It is young Orlando ; that tripp'd up the 
 
 wrestler's heels, and your heart, both in an instant. 
 
 Ros. Nay, but the devil take mockin 
 sad brow, and true maid. 2 
 
 Cel. I'faith, coz, 'tis he. 
 
 Ros. Orlando ? 
 
 Cel. Orlando. 
 
 Ros. -Alas the day! what shall I do with my 
 doublet and hose ? What did he, when thou saw'st 
 
 Orl. And so had 1 : but yet, for fashion's sake, 
 I thank vou too for your society. 
 
 Jaq. God be with you-; let's meet as little as wo 
 can. 
 
 Orl. I do desire we may be better strangers. 
 
 Jaq. I pray you, mar no more trees with writing 
 love-songs in their barks. 
 
 Orl. I pray you, mar no more of my verses with 
 reading them ill-fa vouredly. 
 
 Jaq. Rosalind is your love's name ? 
 
 On. Yea, just. 
 
 Jaq. I do not like her name. 
 
 Orl. There was no thought of pleasing you, 
 when she was christcn'd. 
 
 Jaq. What stature is she of? 
 
 Orl. Just as high as my heart. 
 
 Jaq. You are full of pretty answers : Have you 
 not been acquainted with goldsmiths' wives, and 
 
 Orl. Not so ; but I answer you right painted 
 cloth, 6 from whence you have studied your ques- 
 
 tions. 
 
 4VSU iyv*t. UIIU 11UOI* J ? IlllL U1U ll(^, 1 ill.ll HIV ciu.IV OL 
 
 him? What said he? How look'd he? Wherein 
 went he ? J What makes he here ? Did he ask for 
 me? Where remains he? How parted he with 
 thee ? and when shall thou see him again? Answer 
 me in one word. 
 
 Cel. You must borrow me GaragantuaV mouth 
 first : 'tis a word too great for any mouth of this 
 a ge's size : To say, ay, and no, to these particulars, 
 
 Jaq. You have a nimble wit; I think it was 
 speakjmade of Atalanta's heels. Will you sit down with 
 me ? and we t-,vo will rail against our mistress the 
 world, and all our misery. 
 
 Orl. I will chide no breather in the world, but 
 myself; against whom I know most faults. 
 
 Jaq. The worst fault you have, is to be in lore. 
 
 On. 'Tis a fault I will not chance for your best 
 
 virtue. I am wearv of vou. 
 
 Jaq. By my troth, I was seeking for a fool, 
 when I found you. 
 
 Orl. He is "drown'd in the brook ; look but in, 
 and you shall see him. 
 
 Jaq. There shall I see mine own figure. 
 
 Orl. Which I take to be either a fool, or a 
 cypher. 
 
 is more than to answer in a catechism. | Jaq. I'll tarry no longer with you : farewell, 
 
 Ros. But doth he know that I am in the forest, good signior love. 
 
 and in man-'s apparel? Looks he as freshly as he Orl. I am glad of your departure ; adieu, gooa 
 did the day he wrestled ? [monsieur melancholy. 
 
 Cel. It is as easy to count atomies, 5 as to resolve [Exit Jaques. Celia and Rosalind come forward. 
 
 (1) Out of all measure. 
 
 iz) Speak seriously and honestly. 
 
 (3) How was he dressed ? 
 
 (4) The giant of Rabelais. (5) Motes. 
 
 j (6) An allusion to the moral sentences on old 
 itapestry hangings.
 
 21C AS YOU LIKE IT. 
 
 Ros. I will speak to him like a saucy lacquey, 
 and under that habit play the knave with him. 
 Do you hear, forester ? 
 
 OH. Very well ; What would you ? 
 
 Ros. I pray you, what is't a'clock ? 
 
 Orl. You should ask me, what time o' day; there's 
 no clock in the forest. 
 
 Ros. Then, there is no true lover in the forest ; 
 else sighing every minute, and groaning every hour, 
 would detect the lazy^foot of time, as well as a clock 
 
 Orl. And why no't the swift foot of time ? hac 
 not that been as proper ? 
 
 Ros. By no means, sir: 
 
 Jet III. 
 
 Time travels in diver 
 
 lios. By no means, sir ; Time travels in divers 
 paces with divers persons : I'll tell you who time 
 ambles withal, who lime trots withal, who time 
 gallops withal, and who he stands still withal. 
 
 On. I pr'ythce, who doth he trot withal. 
 
 Ros. Marry, he trots hard with a young maid, 
 between the contract of her marriage, and the daj 
 it is solemnized : if the interim be but a se'nnight, 
 time's pace is so hard that it seems the length 01 
 seven years. 
 
 Orl. Who ambles time withal ? 
 
 Ros. With a priest that lacks Latin, and a rich 
 man that hath not the gout : for the one sleeps ea- 
 sily, because he cannot study ; and the other lives 
 merrily, because he feels no pain : the one lacking 
 the burden of lean and wasteful learning ; the 
 other knowing no burden of heavy tedious penury : 
 These time ambles wilhal. 
 
 Orl. Who doth he gallop withal ? 
 
 Ros. With a thief to the gallows : for though he 
 go as softly as foot can fall, he thinks himself too 
 soon there. 
 
 Orl. Who stays it still withal ? 
 
 Ros. With lawyers in the vacation : for they sleep 
 between term and term, and then they perceive not 
 how time moves. 
 
 Orl. Where dwell you, pretty youth ? 
 
 Roa. With this shepherdess, my sister ; here in 
 the skirts of the forest, like fringe upon a petticoat. 
 
 Orl. Are you a native of this place ? 
 
 Ros. As the coney, that you see dwell where 
 she is kindled. 
 
 Orl. Your accent is something finer than you 
 could purchase in so remov'd 1 a dwelling. 
 
 Ros. I have been told so of many : but, indeed, 
 an old religious uncle of mine taught me to speak, 
 who was in his youth an in-land* man ; one that 
 knew courtship too well, for there he fell in love. 
 I have heard him read many lectures against it ; 
 and I thank God, I am not a woman, to be touch'd 
 with so many giddy oft"ences as he hath generally 
 tax'd their wfiole sex withal. 
 
 OH. Can you remember any of the principal 
 evils, that he laid to the charge of women ? 
 
 Ros. There were none principal ; they were all 
 like one another, as half-pence are : every one fault 
 seeming monstrous, till his fellow fauit came to 
 match it. 
 
 Orl. I pr'ythee, recount some of them. 
 
 Ros. No ; I will not cast away my physic, but 
 
 Ros. There is none of my uncle's marks upon you : 
 he taught me how to know a man in love ; in which 
 cage o( rushes, I am sure, you are not prisoner. 
 
 Orl. What were his marks ? 
 Ros. A lean cheek ; which you have not : a blue 
 eye, and sunken ; which you have not : an un- 
 questionable spirit ; 3 which you have not : a beard 
 neglected ; which you have not : but I pardon 
 you for that ; for, simply, your having" in beard is 
 a younger brother's revenue: Then your hose 
 should be ungarter'd, your bonnet unhanded, your 
 sleeve unbuttoned, your shoe untied, and every 
 thing about you demonstrating acarelessdesolatiori. 
 But you are no such man ; you are rather point- 
 device 5 in your accoutrements ; as loving yourself, 
 than seeming the. lover of any other. 
 
 Orl. Fair youth, I would I could make thee 
 believe I love. 
 
 Ros. Me believe it? you mav as soon make her 
 that you love believe it; which, I warrant, she is 
 apter to do, than to confess she docs : that is one 
 of the points in the which women still give the lie 
 to their consciences. But, in good sooth, are you 
 he that hangs the verses on the trees, wherein 
 Rosalind is so admired ? 
 
 Orl. I swear to thee, youth, by the white hand 
 of Rosalind, I am that he," that unfortunate he. 
 
 Ros. But are you so much in love as your rhymes 
 speak ? 
 
 Orl. Neither rhyme nor reason can express how 
 much. 
 
 Ros. Love is merely a madness ; and, I tell you, 
 deserves as well a dark house and a whip, as mad- 
 men do : and the reason why they are not so pu- 
 nished and cured, is, that the^lunacyis so ordinary, 
 that the whippers are in love too : Yet I profess 
 curing it by counsel. 
 
 OH. Did you ever cure any so ? 
 
 Roi. Yes, one ; and in this manner. He was to 
 imagine me his love, his mistress ; and I set him 
 very day to wo'o me : At which time would I, 
 being but a moonish 6 youth, grieve, be effeminate, 
 changeable, longing, and liking; proud, fantasti- 
 cal, apish, shallow, inconstant, full of tears, full of 
 smiles ; for every passion something, and for no 
 passion truly any thing, as boys and women are for 
 the most part cattle of I his colour : would now like 
 dim, now loatn him ; then entertain him, then for- 
 swear him ; now weep for him, then spit at him ; 
 :hat I drave my suitor from his mad humour of love, 
 ,o a livin? humour of madness ; which was, to for- 
 swear the full stream of the world, and to live in a 
 nook merely monastic : And thus I cured him ; 
 ind this way will I take upon me to wash your 
 ivcr as clean as a sound sheep's heart, that there 
 shall not bo one spot of love in't. 
 
 OH. I would not be cured, youth. 
 Ros. I would cure you, if you would but call 
 me Rosalind, and come every day to my cote, and 
 .voo me. 
 
 OH. Now, by the faith of my love, I will ; tell 
 me where it 1= 
 
 on those that are sick. There is a man haunts thai Ros. Go with me to it, and I'll show it you : and, 
 forest, that abuses our young plants with carving by 1he way, you shall tell me where in" the forest 
 
 Rosalind on their barks ; hangs odes upon haw- 
 thorns, and elegies on brambles ; all, forsooth, 
 deifying the name of Rosalind : if I could meet 
 that fancy-monger, I would give him some good 
 counsel, for he seems to have the quotidian of love 
 upon him. 
 
 OH. I am he that is so love-shaked ; I pray you, 
 tell me your remedy. 
 
 (\) Sequestered. (2) Civilized. 
 
 A spirit averse to conversation. (4) Estate. 
 
 (\) 
 (9} 
 
 you live : Will you o-o ? 
 
 OH. -With all my heart, crood youth. 
 
 Ros. Nay, you must call me Rosalind : Come, 
 
 sister, will you go ? 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE III. Enter Touchstone, and Audrey; 
 Jaques of a dislco\ce, observing them. 
 
 Touch. Come apace, good Audrey ; I will fetch 
 (5) Over-exact, (6) Variable.
 
 Scene 17. 
 
 AS 'YOU LIKE IT. 
 
 217 
 
 tip your goats. Audrey : And how, Audrey ? am I 
 the man yet? Doth n\y simple feature content you ? 
 
 Jlud. Your features ! Lord warrant us ! what 
 features ? 
 
 Touch. I am here with thee and thy goats, as 
 the most capricious 1 poet, honest Ovid, was among 
 the Goths. 
 
 Jaq. O knowledge ill-inhabited ! 2 worse than 
 Jove in a thatch'd house ! [Aside . 
 
 Touch. When a man's verses cannot be under- 
 stood, nor a man's jjood wit seconded v.'ith the for- 
 ward child, understanding, it strikes a man more 
 dead than a great reckoning in a little room : 
 Truly, I would the gods had made thee poetical. 
 
 ilia. I do not know what poetical is : Is it 
 honest in deed, and word ? Is it a true thing ? 
 
 Touch. No, truly ; for the truest poetry is the 
 most feigning; and' lovers are given to poeirv; and 
 what they swear in poetry, may be said, as lovers, 
 they do reign. 
 
 ..}</. Do you wish then, that the gods had made 
 me poetical ? 
 
 Touch. I do, truly : for thou swear'st to me, thou 
 art honest ; now, if thc-u wert a poet, I might have 
 some hope thou didst feign. 
 
 Jlitd. Would you not have me honest ? 
 
 Touch. No truly, unless thou werthard-favour'd : 
 for honesty coupled to beauty, is to have honey a 
 sauce to sugar. 
 
 Jaq. A material fool !* [Aside. 
 
 And. Well, I am not fair ; and therefore I pray 
 the gods make me honest ! 
 
 Touch. Truly, and to cast away honesty upon 
 a foul slut, were to put good meat Into an unclean 
 dish. 
 
 Jlud. I am not a slut, though I thank the gods I 
 am foul.* 
 
 Touch. Well, praised be the gods for thy foul- 
 ness ! sluttishness may come hereafter. But be it 
 as it may be, I will marrv thee : and to that end I 
 have been with sir Oliver Mar-text, the vicnr of the 
 next village ; who hath promised to meet me in this 
 place of the forest, and to couple us. 
 
 Jaq. I would fain see this meeting. [Aside. 
 
 And. Well, the gods give us joy ! 
 . Touch. Amen. A man may, if he were of a 
 fearful heart, stagger in this attempt ; for here we 
 have no temple but the wood, no assembly but 
 horn-beasts. But what though ? Courage ! As 
 horns are odious, they are neccssnry. It is said, 
 Many a man knows no end of his goods : right : 
 many a man has good horn?, and !:r>.r>ws no end of 
 them. Well, that is the dowry of his wife ; 'tis 
 
 none of his own getting. Horns ! Even so: 
 
 Poor men alone;- No, no; the noblest deer ha' !i 
 them as hii7e as the rascal. 1 I* the single man 
 therefore blessed ? No : as a wall'd ton-n is more 
 worthier Ihan a village, so is the forehead of a mar- 
 ried man more honourable than the bn.re brow of a 
 bai-helor: and by how much defence* is better than 
 no skill, by so much is a horn more precious than 
 to want. 
 
 Enter Sir Oliver Mar-text. 
 
 Here comes sir Oliver: sir Oliver Mar-!cxt, you 
 are well met : Will yon despatch us here under this 
 tree, or shall we :ro with you to your chapel .' 
 
 iS'Y OIL Is there none hare to rrivc the woman ? 
 
 Touch. 1 \vil! not take her on giP- of any man. 
 
 Sir Oil. Truly, she must be given, or the mar- 
 riage is not lawful. 
 
 (1) Lascivious. (2) Ill-lodged. . 
 
 (3) A fool with matter in him. (4) Homely. 
 
 (3) Lean deer are called rascitl deer. 
 
 Jaq. [Discovering himself.] Proceed, proceed ; 
 I'll srive her. 
 
 Touch. Good even, good master What ye call't : 
 How do you, sir ? You are very well met : God'ild 
 you' for your last company : I am very clad to see 
 you : Even a toy in hand here, sir : Nay ; pray, 
 be covcr'd. 
 
 Jaq. Will you be married, motley ? 
 
 Touch. As the ox hath his bow,* sir, the horse 
 his curb, and the falcon her bells, so man hath his 
 desires ; and as pigeons bill, so wedlock would be 
 nibbling. 
 
 Jaq. And will you, being a man of your breed- 
 ing, be married unden a bush, like a beggar ? Get 
 you to church, and have a good priest that can tell 
 you what marriage is : this fellow will but join you 
 together as they" join wainscot; then one of you 
 will prove a shrunk pannel, and, like green timber, 
 warp, warp. 
 
 Touch. I am not in the mind but I were better 
 to be married of him than of another : for he is not 
 like to marry me well ; and not being well married, 
 it will be a good excuse fpr me hereafter to leave 
 my wife. f Aside. 
 
 Jaq. Go then with me, and let me counsel thee. 
 
 Touch. Come, sweet Audrey ; 
 We must be married, or we must live in bawdry. 
 Farewell, good master Oliver; 
 Not O sweet Oliver, 
 O brave Oliver, 
 Leave me not behi' thee ; 
 But Wind away, 
 Begone, I say, 
 I will not to wedding wi' thee. 
 
 [Ere. Jaq7 Touch, and Audrey. 
 
 Sir OIL 'Tis no matter ; ne'er a fantastical knave 
 of them all shall flout me out of my calling. [Ex. 
 
 SCENE JV.Tffe srmt. Before a Cottage. 
 Enter Rosalind and Celia. 
 
 Ros. Never ta'k to me, I will weep. 
 - Cel. Do, I pr'ythee ; but yet have the grace to 
 consider, that tears do not become a man. 
 
 Ros. But have I not cause to weep ? 
 
 Cel. As good cause as one would desire ; there- 
 fore weep. 
 
 Ros. His very hair is of the dissembling colour. 
 
 Cel. Something browner than Judas's : marry, 
 his kisses are Jiidas's own children. 
 
 Ros. P faith, his hair is of a good colour. 
 
 Cel. An excellent colour : your chesnut was 
 ever the only colour. 
 
 Ros. And" his kissing is as full of sanctity as the 
 touch of holy bread. 
 
 Cel. He hath bourn* a pair of cast lips of Diana : 
 a nun of winter's sisterhood kisses not more reli- 
 
 ovsly : the very ire of chastity is in them. 
 
 Ron. But vhy did he swear he would come this 
 mornin 1 /. and com'-s not? 
 
 Cd. Nay certain' 1 ', th^re is no truth in him. 
 
 Ron. Do yo-- .,nnk so? 
 
 Cel. Yes : 1 think he is net a pick-pursp, nor n 
 hprsc-stealer ; but for his verity in love, I do thini 
 him as concave as a covcr'd goblet, or a worn, 
 eaten nut. 
 
 Ros. Not true in love ? 
 
 Cel. Yes, when he is in ; but, I think he is not in. 
 
 Ros. You have heard him swear downright, he 
 was. 
 
 Gel. Was is not is : besides, the oath of a lovei 
 is no stronger than the word of a tapster; they ar 
 
 (6) The art of fencinz. (7) God reward you 
 (S) Yoke. 
 
 2 F.
 
 218 
 
 AS YOU LIKE IT, 
 
 JclUL 
 
 both the epnfirmers of false reckonings : He at- 
 tends here in the forest on the duke your father. 
 
 Ros. I met the duke yesterday, and had much 
 question 1 with him. He asked me, of what parent- 
 age I was ; I told him, of as good as he : so he 
 laugh'd, and let me go. But what talk we 
 fathers, when there is such a man as Orlando ? 
 
 Cel. O, that's a brave man! he writes brave 
 verses, speaks brave words, swears brave oaths, 
 and breaks them bravely, quite traverse, athwart 
 the heart of his lover : 2 as a puny tiller, that spurs 
 his horse but on one side, breaks his staff like a noble 
 
 goose : but all's brave, that youth mounts, and folly 
 guides : Who comes here ! 
 
 Enter Corin. 
 
 Cor. Mistress, and master, you have oft inquired 
 After the shepherd that complain'd of love ; 
 Who you saw sitting; by me on the turf, 
 Praising the proud disdainful shepherdess 
 That was his mistress. 
 
 Cel. Well, and what of him ? 
 
 Cor. If yon will see a pageant truly play'd, 
 Between the pale complexion of true love 
 And the red glow of scorn and proud disdain, 
 Go hence a little, and I shall conduct you, 
 If you will mark it. 
 
 Ros. O, come, let us remove ; 
 
 The sight of love_rs feedeth those in love 
 Bring us unto this sijrht, and you shall say 
 I'll prove a busy actor in their play. [Exeunt. 
 
 SCJC.VE V. Another part of the Forest. Enter 
 Silvius and Phebe. 
 
 SU. Sweet Phebe, do not scorn me : do not, 
 
 Phebe: 
 
 Say, that you love me not ; but say not so 
 In bitterness : The common executioner, 
 Whose heart the accustom'd sight of doath makes 
 
 hard, 
 
 Falls not the axe upon the humble neck, 
 But first begs pardon ; Will you sterner be 
 Than he that dies and lives by bloody drops ? 
 Enter Rosalind, Celia, and Corin, at a distance. 
 
 Phe. I would not be thy executioner ; 
 I fly thee, for I would not injure thee. 
 Thou tell'st me, there is murder in mine eye : 
 'Tis pretty, sure, and very probable, 
 That eves, that are the frail'st and softest things, 
 Who shut their coward gates on atomies, 
 Should be call'd tyrants, butchers, murderers ! 
 Now I do frown on thee with all my heart ; 
 And, if mine eyes can wound, now let them kill 
 
 thee ; 
 
 Now counterfeit to swoon ; why now fall down ; 
 Or, if thou canst not, O, for shame, for shame, 
 Lie not, to say mine eyes are murderers. 
 Now show the wound mine eye hath made in thee : 
 Scratch thee but with a pin, and there remains 
 Some scar of it ; lean but upon a rush, 
 The cicatrice and capable impressure 
 Thy palm some moment keeps : but now mine eyes, 
 Which I have darted at thee, hurt thee not ; 
 Nor, I am sure, there is no force in eyes 
 That can do hurt. 
 
 SU. O dear Phete, 
 
 If ever (as that ever may be near,) 
 You meet in some fresh cheek the power of fancy, 3 
 Then shall you know the wounda invisible 
 That love's keen arrows make. 
 
 Pht. But, till that time, 
 
 f P Conversation. (2) Mistress. (3) Lore. 
 
 Come not thou near me : and, when that time come?, 
 Afflict me with thy mocks, pity me not ; 
 As, till that time, I shall not pity thee. 
 
 Ros. And why, I pray you? [Advancing.] Wh 
 
 might be your mother, 
 of That you insult, exult, and all at once, 
 
 0?er the wretched 'I What though you have more 
 
 beauty, 
 
 (As, by my faith, I see no more in you 
 Than without candle may go dark to bed.) 
 Must you be therefore proud and pitiless ? 
 Why, what means this / Why do you look on me ? 
 I see no more in you ? than in the ordinary 
 Of nature's sale-work: Od's my little life ! 
 I think, she means to tangle my eyes too : 
 No, 'faith, proud mistress, hope not after it ; 
 'Tis not your inky brows, your black-silk hair, 
 Your bugle eye-balls, nor your cheek of cream, 
 That can.entame my spirits to your worship. 
 You foolish shepherd, wherefore do you follow her, 
 Like foggy south, puffing with wind and rain ? 
 You are a thousand times a properer man, 
 Than she a woman : 'Tis such ibols as you. 
 That make the world full of ill-fa vour'd children : 
 'Tis not her glass, but you, that flatters her ; 
 And out of you she sees herself more proper, 
 Than any of her lineaments can show her. 
 But, mistress, know vourself ; down on your knees, 
 And thank heaven, fasting, for a. good man's love : 
 For I must tell you friendly in your ear, 
 Sell when you can ; you are not for all markets : 
 Cry the man mercy ; love liim ; take his offer ; 
 Foul is most foul, being foul to be a scoffer. 
 So take her to thee, shepherd ; fare you well. 
 
 Phe. Sweet youth, I pray you, chide a year to 
 
 gether ; 
 I had rather hear you chide, than this man woo. 
 
 Ros. He's fallen in love with her foulness, and 
 she'll fall in love with my anger : If it be so, as 
 fast as she answers thee "with frowning looks, I'll 
 sauce her with bitter words. Why look you so 
 upon me ? 
 
 Phe. For no ill will I bear you. 
 
 Ros. I pray you, do not fall in love with me, 
 For I am falser than vows made in wine : 
 Besides, I like you not : If you will know my house, 
 'Tis at the tuft of olives, here hard by : 
 Will you go, sister ? Shepherd, ply her hard : 
 Come, sister : Shepherdess, look on him better, 
 And be not proud : though all the world could aee, 
 None could be so abus'd "in sight, as he. 
 Come, to our flock. [Exe. Ros. pel. and Cor. 
 
 Phe. Dear shepherd! now I find thy saw of might; 
 Who ever lov'd, that lov'd not <u f.rst siglU ? 
 
 SU. Sweet Phebe, 
 
 Phe. Ha ! what say'st thou, Silvius ? 
 
 SU. Sweet Phebe, pity me. 
 
 Phe. Why, I am sorry for thee, gentle Silvius. 
 
 SU. Wherever sorrow is, relief would be ; 
 If you do sorrow at my grief in love, 
 By giving love, your sorrow and my grief 
 Were both extcrmin'd. 
 
 Phe. Thou hast my love ; Is not that neighbourly? 
 
 SU. I would have you. 
 
 Phe. Why, that were covetousness. 
 
 Silvius, the time was, that I hated thee ; 
 And yet it is not, that I bear thee love : 
 But since that thou canst talk of love so well, 
 Thy company, which erst was irksome to me, 
 I will endure ; and I'll employ thee too : 
 But do not look for further recompense, 
 Than thine own gladness that thou art employ'd. 
 
 SU. So hoi}', and so perfect is my love, 
 And I in such a poverty of grace,
 
 AS YOU LIKE IT. 
 
 219 
 
 That I shall think it a most plenteous crop 
 
 To glean the broken ears after the man 
 
 That the main harvest reaps : loose now and then 
 
 A scatter'd smile, and that I'll live upon. 
 
 Phe. Know'st Ihou the youth that spoke to me 
 ere while ? 
 
 Sil. Not very well, but I have met him oft ; 
 And he hath bo'ught the cottage, and the bounds, 
 That the old carlo! 1 once was master of. 
 
 P/ie. Think not I love him, though I ask for him; 
 *Tis but a peevish 2 boy : yet he talks well ; 
 But what care I for words'? yet words do well, 
 When he that speaks them pleases those that hear. 
 It is a pretty youth : not very pretty : 
 But. sure he's proud ; and yet his pride becomes him: 
 He'll make a proper man : The best thing in him 
 Is his complexion ; and faster than his tongue 
 Did make offence, his eye did heal it up. 
 He is not tall ; yet lor his years he's tall : 
 His leg is but so so ; and yet 'tis well : 
 There was a pretty redness in his lip ; 
 A little riper and more lusty red 
 Than that mis'd in his cheek ; 'twas just the dif- 
 ference 
 
 Betwixt the constant red, and mingled damask. 
 There be some women, Silvius, had they mark'd him 
 In parcels as I did, would have gone near 
 To fall in love with him : but, for my part, 
 I love him not, nor hate him not ; and vet 
 I have more cause to hate him than to love him : 
 For what had he to do to chide at me ? 
 He said, mine eyes were black, and my hair black ; 
 And, now I am remembered, scorn'd at me : 
 I marvel, why I answer'd not a^;;in : 
 l?tit that's all one ; omittance is no quittance. 
 I'll write to him a very taunting' letter, 
 And thou shalt bear if ; Wilt thou, Silvius ? 
 
 Sil. Phebe, with all my heart. 
 
 Phe. 
 
 I'll write it straight ; 
 
 The matter's in my head, and in my heart : 
 I will be bitter with him, and passing short : 
 
 f* ;*!_ __ _ r?i_ _ r T^ 
 
 Go with me, Silvius. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 ACT IV. 
 
 SCENE I.The same. Enter Rosalind, Celia, 
 and Jaques. 
 
 Jaq. I pr'ythee, pretty youth, let me be better 
 
 acquainted with thee. 
 
 and to have nothing, Is to have rich eyes and poor 
 hands. 
 Jaq. Yes, I have gained my experience. 
 
 Enter Orlando. 
 
 Ros. And your experience makes you sad : I 
 had rather have a fool to make me merry, than ex- 
 perience to make me sad ; and to travel for it too. 
 
 Orl. Good day, and happiness, dear Rosalind ! 
 
 Jaq. Nay, then, God be wi' you, an 3'ou talk in 
 blank verse. [Exit . 
 
 Ros. Farewell, monsieur traveller: Look, you 
 lisp, and wear strange suits ; disable 4 all the bene- 
 fits of your own country ; be out of love with your 
 nativity, and almost chide God for making you'that 
 countenance you are ; or I will scarce thank you 
 have swam in'a gondola. Why, how now, Orfan- 
 do ! Whers have you been all this while / You & 
 lover? An you serve me such another trick, never 
 come in my sight more. 
 
 Orl. My fair Rosalind, I come within an hour of 
 my promise. 
 
 Ros. Break an hour's promise in love? He that 
 will divide a minute into a thousand parts, and 
 break but a part of the thousandth part of a minute 
 in the affairs of love, it may be said of him, that 
 Cupid hath clap'd him o' the shoulder, but 1 war- 
 rant him heart-whole. 
 
 Orl. Pardon me, dear Rosalind. 
 
 Ros. Nay, an you be so tardy, come no more in 
 my sight ; 1 had as lief be woo'd of a snail. 
 
 Orl. Of a snail? 
 
 Ros. Ay, of a snail ; for though he comes slowly, 
 he carries his house on his head ; a better jointure, 
 I think, than you can make a woman : Besides, he 
 brinsrs his destiny with him. 
 
 Orl. What's tuat? 
 
 Ros. Why. horns ; which such as you are fain 
 to be beholden to your wives for : but he comes 
 armed in his fortune, and prevents the slander of 
 his wife. 
 
 Orl. Virtue is no horn-maker ; and my Rosalind 
 is virtuous. 
 
 Ros. And I am your Rosalind. 
 
 Cel. It pleases him to call you so ; but he hath 
 a Rosalind of a better leer 4 than you. 
 
 Ros. Come, woo me, woo me ; for now I am in 
 a holiday humour, and like enough to consent : 
 What would you say to me now, an I were your 
 very verv Rosalind ? 
 
 abominable fellows ; 
 
 every modern censure, worsG than drunkards. 
 
 Orl. f would kiss, before I spoke. 
 
 speak first ; and 
 of matter, you 
 Very good orators, 
 
 and betray" themselves to ; when they arc out, they will spit ; and for lovers, 
 lucking (God warn us !) matter, the cleanliest shift 
 is to kiss. 
 
 Orl. How if the kiss be denied? 
 Ros. Then she puts you to entreaty, and there 
 begins new matter. 
 
 Orl. Who could be out, being before his beloved 
 mistress ? 
 
 Ros. Marrv, that should you, if I were your 
 mistress ; or 1 should think my honesty ranker than 
 my wit, 
 
 O)-/. What, of my suit? 
 Ros. Not out of your apparel, and yet out of 
 
 Jaq. Why, 'tis good to be sad and say nothing. 
 
 Ros. Why then, 'tis good to be a post. 
 
 Jaa. I have neither the scholar's melancholy, 
 which, is emulation ; nor the musician's, which is 
 fantastical; nor the courtier's, which is proud ; nor 
 the soldier's, which is ambitious ; nor the lawyer's, 
 which is politic ; nor the lady's, which is nice ; J 
 nor the lover's, which is all these : but it is a me- 
 lancholy of mine own, compounded of many sim- 
 ples, extracted from many objects : and, indeed, 
 the sundry contemplation of my travels, in which 
 my often rumination wraps me, is a most humorous your suit. Am not I your Rosalind ? 
 
 eaancss. 
 
 Ros. A traveller ! By my faith, you have great 
 reason to be sad: I fear, you'have sold your own 
 lands, to see other men's ; then, to have seen much, 
 
 (1) Peasant (8) Silly. (3) Trifling. 
 
 Orl. I take some joy to say you are, because I 
 would be talking of her. 
 Ros. Well, in her person, I say I will not hare 
 
 you. 
 
 (4) Undervalue. 
 
 (5) Complexion.
 
 220 
 
 AS YOU LIKE IT. 
 
 Jlcl IV. 
 
 OrL Then. In mine own person, I die. (stop that, 'twill fly with the smoke out at the 
 
 Ros. No, faith, die by attorney. The poor world chimney. 
 
 is almost six thousand years old, and in all this 
 time there was not any man died in his own person, 
 videlicet, in a love-cause. Troilus had his brains 
 
 Orl. A man that had a wife with such a wit, he 
 miirht say, Wit, whither icilt ? 
 Jibs. Nay, you might keep that check for it, till 
 
 dashed out with a Grecian club ; yet he did what you met your wife's wit going to your neighbour's 
 
 he could to die before ; and he is one of the pat- bed. 
 
 terns of love. Leander, he would have lived many I Orl. And what wit could wit have to excuse that? 
 
 a fair year, though Hero had turned nun, if it had j Ros. Marry, to say, she came to seek you there. 
 
 not been for a hot midsummer nisrht : for, good ' You shall never take her without her answer, un- 
 
 youth, he went but forth to wash him in the Helpless you take her without her tongue. O, lhat 
 
 lespont, and, being taken with the cramp, was woman that cannot make her fault "her husband's 
 
 drowned ; and the foolish chroniclers of that age occasion, let her never nurse her child herself, for 
 
 found it was Hero of Sestos. But these are all j she will breed it like a fool. 
 
 lies ; men have died from time to time, and worms] Or!. For these two hours, Rosalind, I will leave 
 
 have eaten them, but not for love. j thee. 
 
 Orl. I would not have my right Rosalind of this Koa. Alas, dear love, I cannot lack thee two 
 mind ; for, I protest, her frown might kill me. hours. 
 
 Ros. By this hand, it will not kill a fly. But Orl. I must attend the duke at dinner ; by two 
 come, now I will be your Rosalind in a morelo'clock I will be with Ihee again. 
 
 coming-on disposition; and ask me what you will, 
 I will grant it. 
 
 Orl. Then love me, Rosalind. 
 
 Ros. Yes, faith will I, Fridays, and Saturdays, 
 and all. 
 
 Orl. And wilt thou have me T 
 
 Ros, Ay, and twenty such. 
 
 Orl. What say'st thou ? 
 
 Ros. Are you'not good ? 
 
 Orl. I hope so. 
 
 Ros. Why then, can one desire too much of a 
 good thing? Come, sister, you shall be the priest, 
 and marry us. Give me your hand, Orlando : 
 What do you say, sister ? 
 
 Orl. Pray thee, marry us. 
 
 Cel. I cannot say the words. 
 
 Ros. You must begin, Will you, Orlando, 
 
 Cel. Go to : Will you, Orlando, have to wife 
 
 this Rosalind ? 
 
 Orl. I will. 
 
 Ros. Ay, but when ? 
 
 Orl. Why now ; as fast as she can marry us. 
 
 Ros. Then you must say, / take thee, Rosa- 
 lind, for wife. 
 
 Orl. I take thee ? Rosalind, for wife. 
 
 Ros. I might asK you for your commission ; but 
 I do take thee, Orlando, for my husband : There 
 a girl goes before the priest; and, certainly, a 
 woman's thought runs before her actions. 
 
 Orl. So do all thoughts ; they are winged. 
 
 Ros. Now tell me, how long you would have 
 her, after you have possessed her. 
 
 Orl. For ever, and a day. 
 
 Ros. Say a day, without the ever: No, no, Or- 
 lando ; men are April when thy woo, December 
 when they wed : maids are May when they are 
 maids, but the sky chansres when they are wives. 
 I will be more jealous of thee than a Barbary cock- 
 pigeon over his hen ; more clamorous than a par- 
 rot against rain ; more new-fangled than an ape ; 
 more giddy in my desires than a monkey ; I will 
 weep for nothing, like Diana in the fountain, and 
 I will do that when you are disposed to be merry ; 
 I will laugh like a nyen, and that when thou art 
 inclined to sleep. 
 
 Orl. But will my Rosalind do so ? 
 
 Rot. By my life, she will do as I do. 
 
 Orl. O, but she is wise. 
 
 Ros. Or else she could not have the wit to do 
 this : the wiser, the waywarder : Make the doors 
 upon a woman's wit, and it will out at the case- 
 ment ; shut that, and 'twill out at the key-hole ; 
 
 (1) Bar the doors. 
 
 Ros. Ay, go your ways, go your ways; I knew 
 what you would prove ; my friends told me as 
 much, and 1 thought no less : that flattering tongue 
 of yours won me: 'tis but one cast away, and 
 so, come, death. Two o'clock is your hour ? 
 
 Orl. Ay, sweet Rosalind. 
 
 Ros. By my troth, and in good earnest, and so 
 God mend me, and by all pretty oaths that are not 
 dangerous, if you break one jot of your promise, 
 or come one minute behind your hour ? I will think 
 you ,the most pathetical break-promise, and the 
 most hollow lover, and the most unworthy of her 
 you call Rosalind, that may be chosen oiit of the 
 gross band of the unfaithful : therefore beware my 
 censure, and keep your promise. 
 
 Orl. With no less religion, than if thou wert in- 
 deed my Rosalind : So, adieu. 
 
 Ros. Well, time is the old justice that examines 
 all such offenders, and let time try : Adieu ! 
 
 [Exit Orlando. 
 
 Cel. You have simply mjsus'd our sex in your 
 love-prate: we must have your doublet and nose 
 plucked over your head, and show the world what 
 the bird hath done to her own nest. 
 
 Ros. O coz, coz, coz, my pretty little coz, that 
 thou didst know how many fathom deep I am in 
 love! But it cannot be sounded ; my affection hath 
 an unknown bottom, like the bay of Portugal. 
 
 Cel, Or rather bottomless ; that as last as you 
 pour affection in, it runs out. 
 
 Ros. No, that came wicked bastard of Venus, 
 that was begot of thought," conceived of spleen, 
 and born of madness ; that blind rascally boy, that 
 abuses every one's eyes, because his own are out. 
 let him be judge, how deep I am in love : I'll 
 tell thee, Aliena, I cannot be out of the sight of 
 Orlando : I'll go find a shadow, and sigh till he 
 
 Cel. And I'll sleep. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE IT. Another part of the Forest. Enter 
 Jaques and Lords, in the Mbit cf Foresters. 
 
 Jaq. Which is he that killed the deer? 
 
 1 Lord. Sir, it was I. 
 
 .7017. ^et's present him to the duke, like a Ro- 
 man conqueror; and it would do well to set Ihe 
 deer's horns upon his head, for a branch of victory : 
 Have you no song, forester, for this purpose ? 
 
 2 Lord. Yes, sir. 
 
 Jaq. Sing it ; 'tis no matter how it be in tune 
 so it make noise enough. 
 
 (2) Melancholy.
 
 Sttnt III, 
 
 AS YOU LIKE IT. 
 
 221 
 
 SONG. 
 
 1. What shall he have, that kilFd the deer? 
 
 2. His leather skin, and horns to wear. 
 
 1. Then sing him home : 
 
 Take tliou no scorn, to wear the horn ; \ The rest shall 
 It was a crist ere tliou wast born ; ] jg " bur - 
 
 1. Thy father's father ware it; 
 
 2. And thy father here it : 
 
 All. The horn, the horn, the lusty horn, 
 
 Is not a tiling to laugh to scorn. [Exeunt 
 
 i'C.V III. The Forest. Enter Rosalind and 
 Celia. 
 
 Ros. How say you now? Is it not past two 
 o'clock? and here much Orlando ! 
 
 Cel 
 brain, 
 gone forth to sleep : Look, who comes here. 
 
 Enter Silvias. 
 
 Sil. My errand is to you, fair youth ; 
 My gentle Phebe bid me give you this : 
 
 [Giring a letter. 
 
 I know not the contents ; but, as I guess, 
 By the stern brow, and waspish action 
 Which she did use as she was writing of it, 
 It bears an angry tenor : pardon me, 
 I am but as a guiltless messenger. 
 
 Ros. Patience herself would startle at this letter, 
 
 Jllack, in me what strange effect 
 Woula they work in mild aspicl ? 
 Whiles you chid me, I did love ; 
 How then might your prayers move ? 
 He, that brings this love to thee, 
 Little knows this love in me : 
 
 And by him seal up thy mind; 
 Whether that Ihy youth 
 Will thefaithfulcffer take 
 
 ' youth mid kind* 
 
 Of me, and all that I can make; 
 Or else by him my lote deny, 
 And then Fll study hmo to die. 
 
 Sil. Call you this chiding ? 
 
 Cd. Alas, poor shepherd! 
 
 Ros. Do you pity him? no, he deserves no pity. 
 , Wilt thou love such a woman ? What, to make 
 
 lei. I warrant you. with pure love, and troubled ' thee an instrument, and play false strains upon 
 in, he hath ta'en his bow and arrows, and is tnee! not to be en dured ! W ell, go your wav to 
 
 her, (for I see, love hath made thee a tame snake,) 
 and sav this to her: That if she love me, I charse 
 her to love thee : if she will not, I will never have 
 her, unless thou entreat for her. If you be a true 
 lover, hence, and not a word ; for here comes more 
 company. [Exit Silvius. 
 
 Enter Oliver. 
 OIL Good-morrow, fair ones: Pray you, if you 
 
 know 
 
 Where, in the purlieus 4 of this forest, stands 
 A sheepcote, fenc'd about with olive-trees ? 
 
 Cd. West of tliis place, down in the neighbour 
 bottom, 
 
 And play the swaggerer ; bear this, bear all : 
 
 She savs, I am not fair ; that I lack manners ; .^^, 
 
 She calls me proud ; and, that she could not love me i The rank of osiers, by the murmuring stream, 
 
 Left on your right hand, brines you to the place : 
 But at this hour the house doth fceep itself, 
 
 Were man as rare as phoenix ; Od's my will ! 
 Her love is not the hare that I do hunt : 
 
 Why writes she so to me? Well, shepherd, well, 
 This is a letter of your own device. 
 
 Sil. No, I protest, I know not the contents ; 
 Phebe did write it. 
 
 Ros. Come, come, vou are a tool, 
 
 And turn'd into the extremity of love. 
 I saw her hand : she has a leathern hand, 
 A freestone-colour'd hand ; I verily did think 
 That her old gloves were on, but 'twas her hands ; 
 She has a huswife's hand ; but that's no matter : 
 I say, she never did invent this letter ; 
 This is a man's invention, and liis Jiand. 
 
 Si7. Sure, it is hers. 
 
 Ros. Why, 'tis a boisterous and cruel style, 
 A style for challengers ; why, she defies me, 
 Like Turk to Christian : woman's srentle brain 
 Could not drop forth such guiit rude invention, 
 Such Ethiqp words, blackr-r in Iheir effect 
 Than in their countenance: Will you hear the 
 letter ? 
 
 Sil. So please you, for I never heard it yet; 
 Yet heard too much of Phebe's cruelty. 
 
 Ros. She Phebes me : Mark how the tyrant 
 writes. 
 
 .?rf thou god to shepherd turned, [Reads. 
 
 That a maiden's heart hath burned ? 
 Can a woman rail thus ? 
 
 Sil. Call you this railing? 
 Ros. Why, thy zodhead laid apart, 
 
 Warr'st thou with a woman's heart ? 
 Did you ever hear such railino: ? 
 
 While the eye of man did woo me, 
 
 That coidd do no vengeance 1 to me. 
 Meaning me a beast. 
 
 If the scorn of your bright eyne* 
 
 Have power to raise such love in mine, 
 
 There's none within. 
 
 OK. If that an eye may profit by a tongue, 
 Then I should know you by description ; 
 Such garments, and such years : The boy is fair, 
 Of female favour, and bestows himself 
 Like a ripe sister : bvt the woman Uno, 
 .7;ifZ browner titan her brother. Are not you 
 The owner of the house I did inquire for ? 
 
 Cel. It is no boast, being ask'd, to say, we are. 
 
 Oil. Orlando doth commend him to yo'u both ; 
 And to that youth, he calls his Rosalind, 
 He sends this bloody napkin ;*. Are you he ? 
 
 Ros. I am : What must we understand by this ? 
 
 Oft. Some of my shame ; if vou will know of me 
 What man I am, and how, and why, and where 
 This handkerchief was stain'd. 
 
 Cel. I pray you, tell it. 
 
 OIL When last the young Orlando parted from 
 
 you, 
 
 He left a promise to return egain 
 Within an hour; and, pacing through the forest, 
 Chewing the food of sweet and bitter fancy, 
 Lo, what befel ! he threw his eye aside, 
 | And, mark, what object did present itself! 
 Under an oak, whose boughs were moss'd with a<re. 
 And high top bald with dry antiquity, 
 A wretched ragged man, 6'ergrown'wilh hair, 
 Lay sleeping on his back : about his neck 
 A green and gilded snake had wreath'd itself, 
 Who with her head, nimble in threats, approach'd 
 The opening of his mouth ; but suddenly 
 Seeing Orlando, it unlink'd itself, 
 And with indented glides did slip away 
 Into a bush : under" which bush's shade 
 A lioness, with udders all drawn dry, 
 Lay couching, head on ground, with cat-like watch 
 When that the sleeping man should stir ; for 'tis 
 
 (I) Mischief. (2) Eyes. (3) Nature. (4) Environs of a forest. (5) Handkerchief,
 
 222 AS YOU LIKE IT. 
 
 The royal disposition of that beast, 
 To prey on nothing that doth seem as dead : 
 This seen, Orlando did approach the man, 
 And found it was his brother, his elder brother. 
 
 Cel. 0, I have heard him speak of that same 
 
 brother ; 
 
 And he did render 1 him the most unnatural, 
 That liv'd 'mongst men. 
 
 Oli. And well he might do so, 
 
 For well I know he was unnatural. 
 
 Ros. But, to Orlando ; Did he leave him there, 
 Food to the suck'd and hungry lioness ? 
 
 Oil. Twice did he turn his back, and purpos'dso: 
 But kindness, nobler ever than revenge, 
 And nature, stronger than his just occasion, 
 Made him give battle to the .lioness, 
 Who quickly fell before him ; in which hurtling, 1 
 From miserable slumber I awak'd. 
 
 Cel. Are you his brother ? 
 
 Ros. Was it you he rescu'd ? 
 
 Cel. Was't you that did so oft contrive to kill 
 him? 
 
 OIL 'Twas I ; but 'tis not I : I do not shame 
 To tell you what I was, since my conversion 
 So sweetly tastes, being the thing I am. - 
 
 Ros. But, for the bloodv napkin ? 
 
 Oli. By and by. 
 
 When from the first to last, betwixt us two, 
 Tears our recountments had most kindly bath'd, 
 
 As, how I came into that desert place : 
 
 In brief, he led me to the gentle duke, 
 
 Who gave me fresh array, and entertainment, 
 
 Committing me unto my brother's love ; 
 
 Who led me instantly unto his cave, 
 
 There stripp'd himself, and here upon his arm 
 
 The lioness had torn some flesh away, , 
 
 Which all this while had bled ; and now he fainted, 
 
 And cry'd, in fainting, upon Rosalind. 
 
 Brief, I recover'd him ; bound up his wound ; 
 
 And, after some small space, being strong at heart, 
 
 He sent me hither, stranger as I am, 
 
 To tell this story, that you might excuse 
 
 His broken promise, and to give this napkin, 
 
 Dy'd in this blood, unto the shepherd youth 
 
 That he in sport doth call his Rosalind. 
 
 Cel. Why, how now, Ganymede? sweet Gany- 
 mede ? [Rosalind faints. 
 
 Oli. Many will swoon when they do look on 
 blood. 
 
 Cel. There is more in it : Cousin Ganymede ! 
 
 Oli. Look, he recovers. 
 
 Ros. I would I were at home. 
 
 Cel. We'll lead you thither : 
 I pray you, will you take him by the arm ? 
 
 Oli. "Be of good cheer, youth: You a man? 
 You lack a man's heart. 
 
 Act*. 
 
 Ros. I shall devise something : BuL I pray yon. 
 commend my counterfeiting to Kim : Will you go 7 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 ACT V. 
 
 SCENE l.Thc same. Enter Touchstone and 
 Audrey. 
 
 Touch. We shall find a time, Audrey ; patience, 
 gentle Audrey. 
 
 dud. 'Faith, the priest was good enough, for all 
 the old gentleman's saying. 
 
 Touch. A most wicked sir Oliver, Audrey, a 
 most vile Mar-text. But, Audrey, there is a youth 
 here in the forest lays claim to you. 
 
 Jlud. Ay, I know who 'tis, he hath no interest in 
 me in the world : here conies the man you mean. 
 
 Enter William. 
 
 Touch. It is meat and drink to me, to see a 
 cloAvn : By my troth, we that have good wits, have 
 much to answer for ; we shall be flouting ; we can- 
 not hold. 
 
 Will. Good even, Audrey. 
 
 Jlud. God ye good even, William. 
 
 Will. And good even to you, sir. 
 
 Touch. Good even, gentle friend : Cover thy 
 head, cover thy head ; nay, pr'ythee, be covered. 
 How old are you, friend ? 
 
 Will. Five and twenty, sir. 
 
 Touch. A ripe age ; Is thy name William ? 
 
 Will. William, sir. 
 
 Touch. A fair name : Wast born i'the forest here ? 
 
 Will. Ay, sir, I thank God. 
 
 Art rich? 
 
 Touch. Thank God; a good answer : 
 " W ill. 'Faith, sir, so, so. 
 
 Touch. So, so, is good, very good, very excellent 
 good : and yet it is not ; it is but so so. Art thou 
 wise ? 
 
 Will. Ay, sir, I have a prcttv wit. 
 
 Touch. Why, thou say'st well. I do now remem 
 ber a saying ; The fool doth think he is wise, but 
 the wise man knows himself to be a fool. The 
 heathen philosopher, when he had a desire to eat a 
 grape, would open his lips when he put it into his 
 mouth ; meaning thereby, that grapes were made 
 to eat, and lips to open. You do love this maid ? 
 
 Will. I do, sir. 
 
 Touch. Give me your hand : Art thou learned ? 
 
 Will. No, sir. ' 
 
 Touch. Then learn this of me ; To have, is to 
 have : For it is a figure in rhetoric, that drink 
 being poured out of a cup into a glass, by filling 
 
 Ithe one doth empty the other: For all your writers 
 
 Ros. I do so, I confess it. Ah, sir, a body would do consent, that ipse is he ; now you are not ipse, 
 think this was well counterfeited : I pray you tell for I am ho. 
 your brother how well I counterfeited. Heigh Will. Which he, sir ? 
 
 to! 
 
 Oli. This was not counterfeit ; there is too great 
 testimony in your complexion, that it was a pas- 
 sion of earnest. 
 
 Ros. Counterfeit, I assure you. 
 
 Oli. Well then, take a good heart, and counter- 
 feit to be a man. 
 
 woman by right. 
 
 Cel. Come, you look paler and paler ; pray you, 
 draw homewards : Good sir, go with us. 
 
 0/t. That will I, for I must bear answer back 
 How you excuse my brother, Rosalind. 
 
 (J) Describe, (2) Scuffle, 
 
 Touch. He, sir, that must marry this woman : 
 Therefore, you clown, abandon, which is in the 
 vulgar, leave, the society, which in the boorish 
 is, company, of this female, which in (he com- 
 mon is, woman, which together is, abandon the 
 society of this female ; or, clown, thou perishest ; 
 or, to fhy better understanding, diest ; to wit, I 
 
 Ros. So I do : but, i'faith I should have been a kill thec, make thee awav, translate thv life into 
 
 J 4l_ 41 IM. i_- * 1_ 1- " 1 -Vl 1 1 
 
 death, thy liberty into bondage : I will deal in 
 poison with thee, or in bastinado, or in steel ; I 
 will bandy with thee in faction ; I will o'er run thre 
 with policy ; I will kill thee a hundred and fifty 
 ways ; therefore tremble, and depart, 
 
 And. Do, good William. 
 
 Will. God rest you merry, sir, [*(
 
 Scene 17. 
 
 Cor. Our master and mistress seek you ; come, 
 
 Audrey, trip, Audrey ; I attend, 
 {Exeunt. 
 
 I attend. 
 
 AS YOU LIKE IT. 223 
 
 Enter Corin. Jyears old, conversed with a magician, most pro- 
 
 bund in this art, and yet not damnable. If you 
 do lore Rosalind so near the heart as your gesture 
 cries it out, when your brother marries Aliena, shall 
 rou marry her : I know into what straits of fortune 
 she is driven ; and it is not impossible to me, if it 
 appear not inconvenient to you, to set her before 
 rour eyes to-morrow, human as she is, and without 
 any danger. 
 
 Orl. Speakest thou in sober meanings ? 
 .Ros. By my life, I do ; which I tender dearly, 
 hough I say I am a magician : Therefore, put you 
 n your best array, bid 1 your friends ; for if vou 
 ,vill be married to-morrow, you shall ; and to 
 iosalind, if you will. 
 
 Enter Silvius and Phebe. 
 
 ook, here comes a lover of mine, and a lover of 
 hers. 
 
 Phe. Youth, you have done me much ungentle- 
 ness, 
 To show the letter that I writ to you. 
 
 Ros. I care not, if I have : it is my study, 
 To seem despiteful and ungentle to you : 
 You are there folio w'd by a faithful shepherd ; 
 Look upon him, love him ; he worships you. 
 
 Phe. Good shepherd, tell this youth what 'tis tc 
 love. 
 
 Sil. It is to he all made of sighs and tears ; 
 And so am I for Phebe. 
 
 Phe. And I for Ganymede. 
 
 Orl. And I for Rosalind. 
 
 Ros. And I for no woman. 
 
 Sil. It is to be all made of faith and service ; 
 And so am I for Phebe. 
 
 Phe. And I for Ganymede. 
 
 Orl. And I for Rosalind. 
 
 Ros. And I for no woman. 
 
 Sil. It is to be all made of phantasy, 
 All made of passion, and all made of wishes : 
 All adoration, duty and observance ? 
 All humbleness, all patience, and impatience, 
 All purity, all trial, all observance ; 
 
 SCEJVE II. The same. Enter Orlando and 
 Oliver. 
 
 Orl. Is't possible, that on so little acquaintance 
 you should like her ? that, but seeing, you should 
 love her ? and, loving, woo ? and, wooing, she 
 should grant ? and will you perse" ver to enjoy her ? 
 
 OIL Neither call the giddiness of it in question, 
 the poverty of her, the small acquaintance, my sud- 
 den wooing, nor her sudden consenting ; but say 
 with me, I love Aliena ; say with her, that she 
 loves me ; consent with both, that we may enjoy 
 each other : it shall be to your good ; for my fa- 
 ther's house, and all the revenue that was old sir 
 Rowland's, will I estate upon you, and here live 
 and die a shepherd. 
 
 Enter Rosalind. 
 
 Orl. You have my consent. Let your wedding; 
 be to-morrow : thither will I invite the duke, and 
 all his contented followers : Go you, and prepare 
 Aliena ; for, look you, here comes my Rosalind. 
 
 Ros. God save you, brother. 
 
 OK. And you, (air sister. 
 
 Ros. 0, my dear Orlando, how it grieves me to 
 aee thee wear thy heart in a scarf ! 
 
 Orl. It is my arm. 
 
 Ros. I thought thy heart had been wounded with 
 the claws of a lion. 
 
 Orl. Wounded it is, but with the eyes of a lady. 
 
 Ros. Did your brother tell you how I counter- 
 feited to swoon, when lie showed me your hand- 
 kerchief ? 
 
 Orl. Ay, and greater wonders than that. 
 
 Ros. O, I know where you are : Nay, 'tis true : 
 there was never any thing so sudden, but the fight 
 of two rams, and Caesar's thrasonical brag of 
 I came, saw, and overcame : For your brother and 
 
 my sister no sooner met, but they looked ; no 
 sooner looked, but they loved ; no sooner loved, but 
 they sighed ; no sooner sighed, but they asked one 
 another the reason ; no sooner knew the reason, 
 but they sought the remedy ; and in these degrees 
 have they made a pair of stairs to marriage, which 
 they will climb incontinent, or else be incontinent 
 before marriage : they are in the very wrath of 
 love, and they will together ; clubs cannot part 
 them. 
 
 Orl. They shall be married to-morrow ; and I 
 will bid the duke to the nuptial. But, O, how bit- 
 ter a thing it is to look into happiness through an- 
 other man's eyes ! By so much the more shall I to- 
 morrow be at the height of heart-heaviness, by how 
 much I shall think my brother happy, in havin<- 
 what he wishes for. 
 
 Ros. Why then, to-morrow I canr.ot serve your 
 turn for Rosalind ? 
 
 Orl. I can live no longer by thinking. 
 
 Ros. I will weary you no longer then with idle 
 talking. Know of me then (for now I speak to 
 aome purpose,_) that I know you are a gentlemar 
 of good conceit : I speak not this, that you shoulc 
 bear a good opinion of my knowledge, insomuch, 
 I say, I know you are ; neither do I labour for a 
 greater esteem than may in some little measure 
 draw a belief from you, to do yourself good, anc 
 not to grace me. Believe then, if you please, that 
 ) can 09 strange things ; I bare, since I was three 
 
 ', that is not here, nor doth not hear, 
 you, no more of this ; 'tis like th< 
 
 And so am I for Phebe. 
 
 Phe. And so am I for Ganymede. 
 
 Orl. And so am I for Rosalind. 
 
 Ros. And so am I for no woman. 
 
 Phe. If this be so, why blame you me to love you ? 
 [To Rosalind. 
 
 SU. If this be so, why blame you me to love you ? 
 
 [To Phebe. 
 
 Or?. If this he so, why blame you me to love you ? 
 
 Ros. Who do you speak to, "Why blame you me 
 lo love you ? 
 
 Orl. to her^ 
 
 Ros. Pray you, no more of this ; 'tis like the 
 howling of Irish wolves ajrainst the moon. I will 
 help vou, [To Silvius.] if I can: I would love 
 you, f To Phebe.] if I could. To-morrow meet me 
 all together. I will marry you, [To Phebe.] if ever 
 I marry woman, and I'll be married to-morrow : 
 I will satisfy you, [To Orlando.] if ever I satisfied 
 man, and you shall be married to-morrow : I 
 will conter.t you, [To Silvius.] if what pleases 
 you contents you, and you shall be married to- 
 morrow. As you [To Orlando.] love Rosalind, 
 meet; as you [To Silvius.] love Phebe, meet; 
 And as I love no woman, I'll meet. So, fare you 
 well ; I have left you commands. 
 
 Sil. I'll not fail, if I live. 
 
 Phe. Nor I. 
 
 Orl. Nor I. [Ext. 
 
 (I) Invite,
 
 AS YOU LIKE IT. 
 
 SCENE HI. The same. Enter Touchstone and 
 Audrey. 
 
 Touch. To-morrow is the joyful day, Audrey ; 
 to-morrow will we be married. 
 
 Jlud. I do desire it with all my heart: and I 
 hope it is no dishonest desire, to desire to be a 
 woman of the world.' Here comes two of the 
 banished duke's pages. 
 
 Enter two Pages. 
 
 1 Page. Well met, honest gentleman. 
 
 Touch. By my troth, well met: Come, sit, sit, 
 and a song. 
 
 2 Page. We are for you : sit i' the middle. 
 
 1 Page. Shall we clap into't roundly, without 
 hatyking, or spitting, or saying we are hoarse ; 
 which are the only prologues to a bad voice ? 
 
 2 Page. I'faith. i'faith ; and both in a tune, like 
 two gypsies on a horse. 
 
 SONG. 
 I. 
 
 It was a lover, and his lass, 
 
 With a hey, and a ho, and a hey nonino, 
 That o'er the green corn-field did pass 
 
 In the spring time, the only pretty rank time, 
 When birds do sing, /ej/ din g a ding, ding; 
 Sweet lovers love the spring. 
 
 II. 
 Between the acres of the rye, 
 
 With a hey, and a ho, and a hey nonino, 
 These pretty countryfolks would He, 
 
 In spring time, <$<:. 
 
 III. 
 This carol they began that hour, 
 
 With a hey, and a ho, and a hey nonino f 
 How that a fife was but a flower 
 
 In spring time, fyc. 
 
 IV. 1 
 
 And therefore take the present time, 
 
 With a hey, and a ho, and a hey nonino ; 
 
 For love is crowned with the prime, 
 In spring time, fyc. 
 
 Touch. Truly, young gentlemen, though there 
 was no great matter in the ditty, yet the note was 
 very untunable. 
 
 1 Page. You are deceived, sir ; we kept time, we 
 lost not our time. 
 
 Touch. By my troth, yes ; I count it but time 
 lost to hear such a foolisfi song. God be with you ; 
 and God mend your voices ! Come, Audrev. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE IV. Another part of the Forest. Enter 
 
 Duke senior, Amiens, Jaqucs, Orlando, Oliver, 
 
 and Celia. 
 
 Duke S. Dost thou believe, Orlando, that the boy 
 Can do all this that he hath promised? 
 
 Orl. I sometimes do believe, and sometimes do 
 
 not; 
 As those that fear they hope, and know they fear. 
 
 Enter Rosalind, Silvius, and Phebe. 
 Rot. Patience once more, whiles our compdct is 
 
 urg'd : 
 
 You say, if I bring in your Rosalind, [To the Duke. 
 You will bestow her on Orlando here ? 
 Duke S. That would I, had I kingdoms to give 
 
 with her. 
 
 (1) A married woman. 
 
 Ros. And you say, you will have her, when 1 
 bring her? [To Orlando. 
 
 Orl. That would I, were I of all kinpdoms king. 
 Ros. You say, you'll marry me, if I be willinsr? 
 
 [To Phebe. 
 
 Plie. That will I, should I die the hour after. 
 Ros. But, if you do refuse to marry me, 
 i You'll give yourself to this most faithful shepherd? 
 1 Phe. So is the barjrain. 
 
 Jtos. You say, that you'll have Phebe, if she 
 will? [ToSilvius. 
 
 Sil. Though to have her and death were both 
 
 one thing. 
 Ros. I have promis'd to make all this matter 
 
 even. 
 
 Keep you your word, duke, to give your daugh- 
 ter; 
 
 You yours, Orlando, to receive his daughter : 
 Keep ymir word, Phebe, that you'll marry me ; 
 Or else, refusing me, to wed this shepherd : 
 Keep your word, Silvius, that you'll marry her, 
 If she refuse me : and from hence I go, 
 To make these doubts all even. 
 
 [Exeunt Ros. and Cel. 
 
 Duke S. I do remember in this shepherd-boy 
 Some lively touches of my daughter's favour. 
 
 Orl. My lord, the first time that I ever saw him, 
 Methought he was a brother to your daughter: 
 But, my good lord, this boy is forest-born ; 
 And haih been tutor'd in the rudiments 
 Of many desperate studies by his uncle, 
 Whom he reports to be a great magician, 
 Obscured in the circle of this forest. 
 
 Enter Touchstone and Audrey. 
 
 Jaq. There is, sure, another flood toward, and 
 these couples are coming to the ark ! Here comes 
 a pair of very strange beasts, which in all tongues 
 are called fools. 
 
 Touch. Salutation and greeting to you all ! 
 
 Jaq. Good my lord, bid him welcome ; This is 
 the motley -minded gentleman, that I have so often 
 met in the ibrest: he hath been a courtier, he 
 swears. , 
 
 Touch. If any man doubt that, let him put me 
 to my purgation. I have trod a measure ; z I have 
 flattered a lady; I have been politic with my 
 friend, smooth with mine enemy ; I have undone 
 three tailors ; I have had four quarrels, and like to 
 have foupht one. 
 
 Jaq. And how was that ta'en up ? 
 
 Touch. 'Faith, we met, and found the quarrel 
 was upon the seventh cause. 
 
 Jaq. How seventh cause ? Good my lord, like 
 this fellow. 
 
 Duke S. I like him very well. 
 
 Touch. God 'ild yoUj sir ; I desire you of the 
 like. I press in here, sir, amongst the rest of the 
 country copulatives, to swear, and to forswear ; ac- 
 cording as marriage binds, and blood breaks: A 
 poor virgin, sir, an ill-favoured thing, sir, but mine 
 own ; a poor humour of mine, sir, to take that that 
 no man else will : Rich honesty dwells like a miser, 
 sir, in a poor house ; as your pearl, in your foul 
 oyster. 
 
 Duke S. By my faith, he is very swift and sen- 
 tenlious. 
 
 Touch. According to the fool's holt, sir, and 
 such dulcet diseases. 
 
 Jaq. But, for the seventh cause ; how did you 
 find the quarrel on the seventh cause ? 
 
 Touch. Upon a lie seven times removed ; Bear 
 
 (2) A stately solemn dance.
 
 Scent IV. 
 
 AS YOU LIKE IT. 
 
 225 
 
 vour body more seeming, 1 Audrey: as thus, sir. 
 
 did dislike the cut of a certain courtier's beard ; 
 he sent me word, if I said his beard was not cut 
 well, he was in the mind it was : This is called the 
 retort courteous. If I sent him word again, it was 
 not well cut, he would send me word ? he cut it to 
 please himself: This is called the qiup modest. If 
 again, it was not well cut, he disabled mv judg- 
 ment : This is called the reply churlish, if again, 
 it was not well cut, he would answer, I spake not 
 true: This is called the reproof valiant. If again, 
 it was not well cut, he would say, I lie : This is 
 called the countercheck quarrelsome .- and so to the 
 lie circumstantial, and the lie direct. 
 
 Jaq. And how oft did you say, his beard was not 
 well cut ? 
 
 Touch. I durst go no further than the lie circum- 
 stantial, nor he durst not give me the lie direct ; and 
 so we measured swords, and parted. 
 
 Jag. Can you nominate in order now the degrees 
 of the lie ? 
 
 Touch. 0, sir, we quarrel in print, by the book ; 
 as you have books for good manners : I will name 
 you the degrees. The first, the retort courteous ; 
 the second, the quip modest ; the third, the reply 
 churlish ; the fourth, the reproof valiant ; the fifth", 
 the countercheck quarrelsome ; the sixth, the lie 
 with circumstance ; the seventh, the lie direct. All 
 these you may avoid, but the lie direct ; and you 
 may avoid that too, with an if. I knew when seven 
 justices could not take up a quarrel ; but when the 
 parties were met themselves, one of them thought 
 but of an if, as, if you said so, then I said so; and 
 they shook hands, and swore brothers. Your if, is 
 the only peace-maker ; much virtue in if. 
 
 Jaq. Is not this a rare fellow, my lord ? he's as 
 good at any thing, and yet a fool. 
 
 Duke S. He uses his* folly like a stalking-horse, 
 "and under the presentation of that, he shootshis wit. 
 
 Enter Hymen, leading Rosalind m tcoman's 
 clothes ; and Celia. Still music. 
 
 Hym. Then is there mirth in heaven, 
 When earthly things made iven 
 
 Atone together. 
 
 Good duke, receive thy daughter, 
 Hymen from heaven brought her, 
 
 Yea, brought her hither; 
 That thmi mighfstjoin her hand icith his, 
 Whose heart within her besom is. 
 
 Ros. To you I give myself, for I am yours. 
 
 [To Duke S. 
 
 To you I give myself, for I am your?. [To Or!. 
 Duke S. If there be truth in sight, you are my 
 
 daughter. 
 
 Orl. If there be truth in sight, you are my Rosa- 
 lind. 
 
 Phe. If sight and shape be true, 
 Why then, my love, adieu 1 
 Ros. I'll have no father, if you be not he : 
 
 [To Duke S. 
 I'll have no husband, if you be not he : 
 
 [To Orlando. 
 Nor ne'er wed woman, if you be not she. 
 
 [ToPhebe. 
 
 Hym. Peace, ho ! I bar confusion : 
 'Tis I must make conclusion 
 
 Of these most strange events : 
 Here's eight that must take hands, 
 To join in Hvmen's bands, 
 If truth holds true contents. 1 
 
 (1 ) Seemly. (2) Unless truth fails of vei acity, 
 
 You and you no cross shall part : 
 
 [To Orlando and Rosalind. 
 You and you are heart in heart : 
 
 [To Oliver and Celia. 
 You [ToPhebe.] to his love must accord, 
 Or have a woman to your lord : 
 You and you are sure together, 
 
 [To Touchstone and Audrey. 
 As the winter to foul weather. 
 Whiles a wedlock-hymn we sing, 
 Feed yourselves with questioning ; 
 That reason wonder may diminish, 
 How thus we met, and these things finish. 
 
 SONG. 
 
 Wedding is c^reat Juno's crown; 
 
 blessed bond of board and bed ! 
 'Ti's Hymen peoples every town ; 
 
 Hi?fi wedlock then be honoured : 
 Honour, high honour and renown, 
 To Hymen, god of every tenon ! 
 
 Duke S. O my dear niece, welcome thou art to me , 
 Even daughter, welcome in no less degree. 
 
 Phe. I will not eat my word, now thou art mine ; 
 Thy faith my fancy to thee doth combine. 1 
 
 [To Silvius. 
 
 Enter Jaques de Bois. 
 
 Jaq. de B. Let me have audience for a word or 
 
 two; 
 
 I am the second son of old sir Rowland, 
 That bring these tidings to this fair assembly : 
 Duke Frederick, hearing how that everyday 
 Men of great worth resorted to this forest, 
 Address'd a mighty power which were on foot, 
 In his own conduct, purposely to take 
 His brother here, and put him to the sword : 
 And to the skirts of this wild wood he came ; 
 Where, meeting with an old religious man, 
 After some question with him, was converted 
 Both from his enterprize, and from the world : 
 His crown bequeathing to his banish'd brother, 
 And all their lands restpr'd to them again 
 That were with him exil'd : This to be true, 
 [ do engage my life. 
 
 Duke S. Welcome, young man; 
 
 Thou ofier'st fairly to thy brothers' wedding: 
 To one, his lands withheld ; and to the other, 
 A land itself as large, a potent dukedom. 
 First, in this forest, let us do those ends 
 That here were well begun, and well begot ; 
 And after, every of this happy number, 
 That have endur'd shrewd days and nights with us, 
 Shall share the good of our returned fortune, 
 According to the measure of their states. 
 Meantime, forget this new-fall'n dignity, 
 And fall into our rustic revelry : 
 Play, music ; and you brides and bridegrooms all, 
 With measure heap'd in joy, to the measures fall. 
 
 Jaq. Sir, by your patience ; If I heard you rightly, 
 The duke hath put on a religious life, 
 And thrown into neglect the pompous court ? 
 
 Jaq.deB. He hath. 
 
 Jaq. To him will I: out of these convertites 
 There is much matter to be heard and learn'd. 
 You to your former honour I bequeath ; 
 
 [To Duke S. 
 
 Your patience, and your virtue, well deserves it : 
 You [To Orlando.] "to a love, that your true faith 
 doth merit : 
 
 3) Bind. 
 2F
 
 226 
 
 AS YOU LIKE IT. 
 
 Jet r. 
 
 You [To Oliver.] to your land, and love, and great 
 allies : 
 
 You [To Silvius.] to a long and well-deserved 
 bed: 
 
 And you [To Touchstone.] to wrangling ; for thy 
 loving voyage 
 
 Is but for two months victualed : So to your plea- 
 sures ; 
 
 I am for other than for dancing measures. 
 Duke S. Stay, Jaques, stay. 
 Jaq. To see no pastime, I : what you would 
 
 have I'll stay to know at your abandon'd cave. 
 
 Duke S. Proceed, proceed : we will begin these 
 
 rites, 
 And we do trust they'll end in true delights. 
 
 , [*1 dance. 
 
 EPILOGUE. 
 
 Bos. It is not the fashion to see tne lady the epi- 
 logue : but it is no more unhandsome, than to see 
 the lord the prologue. If it be true, that good wine 
 needs no bush, 'tis true, that a good play needs no 
 epilogue: Yet to good wine they do use good 
 bushes ; and good plays prove the better by the 
 help of good epilogues. What a case am I in then, 
 that am neither a good epilogue, nor cannot insi- 
 nuate with you in the behalf of a good play ? I am 
 Dot furnished 1 like a beggar, therefore to beg will 
 
 (1) Dressed. (Z) That I liked. 
 
 not become me ; my way Is, to conjure you ; and 
 I'll begin with the women. I charge you, O women, 
 for the love you bear to men, to like as much of 
 this play as please them : and so I charge you, O 
 men, for the love you bear to women, (as I perceive 
 by your simpering, none of you hate them,) that 
 between you and the women, the play may please. 
 If I were a woman, I would kiss as many of you 
 as had beards that pleased me, complexions that 
 liked me, 2 and breaths that I defied not ; and, I am 
 sure, as many as have good beards, or good faces, 
 or sweet breaths, will, for my kind offer, when I 
 make curt'sy, bid me farewell. [Exeunt. 
 
 Of this play the fable is wild and pleasing. I 
 know not how the ladies will, approve the facility 
 with which both Rosalind and Celia give away 
 their hearts. To Celia much may be forgiven, for 
 the heroism of her friendship. The character of 
 Jaques is natural and well preserved. The comic 
 dialogue is very sprightly, with less mixture of low 
 buffoonery than in some other plays ; and the graver 
 part is elegant and harmonious. By hastening to 
 the end of this work, Shakspeare suppressed the 
 dialogue between the usurper and the hermit, and 
 lost an opportunity of exhibiting a moral lesson, in 
 which he might have found matter worthy of his 
 highest powers. 
 
 JOHNSON.
 
 ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL. 
 
 Act II. Scene 3. 
 
 TAMING THE SHREW 
 Act IV. Scene 1.
 
 ( 227 ) 
 
 PERSONS REPRESENTED. 
 
 King of France. 
 Duke of Florence. 
 Bertram, Count ofRousillon. 
 Lafeu, an old Lord. 
 Parolles, a follower of Bertram. 
 Several young French Lords, that serve with Ber- 
 tram in the Florentine tear. 
 
 Clown 1 " ' ( ser " an ' s to tne Countess ofRousillon. 
 A Page. 
 
 Countess ofRous-iUon, mother to Bertram. 
 
 Helena, a gentlewoman protected by the Countess 
 
 .i/i old Widow of Florence. 
 
 Diana, daughter to the widow. 
 
 Violeiita, 
 
 Mariana 
 
 Lords, attending on the Kins:; Officers, Soldiers 
 <$-c. French and Florentint. 
 
 Scene, partly in France, and partly in Tuscany. 
 
 ia' ( nt 'Shbours and friends to the loidmc. 
 
 ACT I. I Ber. 1 heard not of it before. 
 
 T ^ \ Laf. I would, it were not notorious. Was thi.i 
 
 /. Rousillon. A Room -in the Coun- gentlewoman the daughter of Gerard de Narbon 1 
 tess's Palace. Enter Bertram, the Countess ofj Count. His sole child, my lord ; and bequeathed 
 Kousillon, Helena, and Lafeu, m mourning-. I to my overlooking. I have those hopes of her 
 Countess good, that her education promises : her dispositions 
 
 AN delivering my son from me, I bury a second 
 husband. 
 
 Ber. And I, in going, madam, weep o'er my 
 father's death anew : but I must attend his majes- 
 ty's command, to whom I am now in ward, 1 ever- 
 more in subjection. 
 
 Laf. You shall find of the king a husband, ma- 
 dam ; you, sir, a father: He that so generally is 
 at all times good, must of necessity hold his virtue 
 to you ; whose worthiness would stir it up where 
 it wanted, rather than lack it where there is such 
 abundance. 
 
 Count. What hope is there of his majesty's 
 amendment ? 
 
 Laf. He hath abandoned his physicians, madam; to - 
 under whose practices he hath persecuted timei Laf. Moderate lamentation is the right of the 
 with hope ; and finds no other advantage in the dead, excessive grief the enemy to the living, 
 process but onlv the losincr of hope by time. Count. If the .living be enemy to the grief, the 
 
 Count. This 'young gentlewoman "had a father i excess makes it soon mortal. 
 (0, that had! 3 now sad a passage 'tis.!) whose skill ?"/ Madam, J desire your holy wishes, 
 was almost as great as his honesty ; had it stretch- 
 
 she inherits, which make fair gifts fairer ; for where 
 an unclean mind carries virtuous qualities, 3 there 
 commendations go with pity, they are virtues and 
 traitors too ; in her they are the better for their 
 simpleness ; 4 she derives her honesty, and achieves 
 her goodness. 
 
 Laf. Your commendations, madam, get from 
 her tears. 
 
 Count. 'Tis the best brine a maiden can season 
 her praise in. The remembrance of her father 
 never approaches her heart, but the tyranny of her 
 sorrows takes all livelihood 5 from her cheek. No 
 more of this, Helena^ go to, no more ; lets it be 
 rather thought you aftect a sorrow, than to have. 
 
 , . 
 
 Hel. I do anect a sorrow, indeed, but I have it 
 
 ed so far, would have made nature immortal, and 
 
 death should have play for lack of work. 'Would, i tnv father 
 
 for the king's sake, "he were living ! I think, it J" manners, 
 
 Laf. How understand we that ? 
 
 Count. Be thou blest, Bertram ! and succeed 
 
 woujd be the death of the king's disease. 
 
 Laf. How called you the man you speak of, 
 madam '/ 
 
 Count. He was famous, sir, in his profession, and 
 it was his great right to be so : Gerard de Narbon. 
 
 Laf. He was excellent, indeed, madam ; the king 
 very lately spoke of him, admiringly, and inourn- 
 ingly : he was skilful enough to have lived still, if 
 knowledge could be set up against mortality. 
 
 Ber. What is it, my good lord, the king lan- 
 guishes of? 
 
 Laf. A fistula, my lord. 
 
 HJ Under his particular care, as my guardian. 
 
 (2) The countess recollects her own loss of a 
 husband, and observes how heavily had passes 
 through her mind. 
 
 (3) Qualities of good breeding and erudition, 
 
 , as in shape ! thy blood, and virtue, 
 Contend for empire in thec ; and thv goodness 
 Share with thy birthright ! Love alf, trust a few, 
 Do wrong to none : be able for thine enemy 
 Rather in power, than use ; an'J keep thy friend 
 Under thy own life's key : be check'd for silence. 
 But never tax'd for speech. What heaven more will, 
 That tiiee may furnish, 6 and my prayers pluck 
 
 down, 
 
 Fill on thy head ! Farewell. My lord, 
 'Tis an unseason'd courtier ; good my lord, 
 Advise him. 
 
 Laf. He cannot want the best 
 
 (4) t. e. Her excellencies are the better because 
 they are artless. 
 
 (5) All appearance of life. 
 
 (6) i. e. That may help thee with more and bet 
 tcr qualifications.
 
 228 
 
 ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL. 
 
 Jci L 
 
 That shall attend his love. 
 
 Count. Hearen bless him ! Farewell, Bertram. 
 [Exit Countess. 
 
 Ber. The hest wishes, that can be forged in your 
 thoughts, [To Helena.] be servants to you! 1 Be 
 comfortable to my mother, your mistress, and make 
 much of her. 
 
 La/. Farewell, pretty lady : You must hold the 
 credit of your father. [Exe. Bertram and Lafeu. 
 
 Hel. O, were that all ! I think not on my father; 
 And these great tears grace his remembrance more 
 Than those I shed for him. What was he like ? 
 I have forgot him : my imagination 
 Carries no favour in it, but Bertram's. 
 I am undone ; there is no living-, none, 
 If Bertram be away. It were all one, 
 That I should love a bright particular star, 
 And think to wed it, he is so above me : 
 In his bright radiance and collateral light 
 Must I be comforted, not in his sphere. 
 The ambition in my love thus plagues itself: 
 The hind, that would be mated by the lion, 
 Must die for Jove. 'Twas pretty ,'though a plague, 
 To see him every hour ; to sit and draw 
 His arched brows, his hawking eye, his curls, 
 In our heart's table ; 2 heart, too capable 
 Of every line and trick- 1 of his sweet favour :* 
 But now he's gone, and my idolatrous fancy 
 Must sanctify nis relics. Who comes here? 
 
 Enter Parolles. 
 
 One that croes with him : I love him for his sake ; 
 And vet iTcnow him a notorious liar, 
 Think him a great way fool, solely a coward ; 
 Yet these fix'd evils sit so fit in him, 
 That they take place, when virtue's steely bones 
 Look ble'ak in the cold wind ; withal, full oft we see 
 Cold wisdom waiting on superfluous folly. 
 
 Par. Save you, fair queen. 
 
 Hel. And you, monarch. 
 
 Par. No. 
 
 Hel. And no. 
 
 Par. Are you meditating- on virginity ? 
 
 Hel. Ay. You have some stain of soldier in yota ; 
 let me ask you a question : Man is enemy to vir- 
 ginity ; how may we barricado it against him ? 
 
 Par. Keep him out. 
 
 Hel. But he assails ; and our virginity, though 
 valiant in the defence, yet is w : eak : unibld to us 
 some warlike resistance. 
 
 Par. There is none ; man, sitting down before 
 vou, will undermine you, and blow you up. 
 
 Hel. Bless our poor virginity from underminers, 
 and blowers up ! Is there no military policy, how 
 virgins might blow up men ? 
 
 Par. Virginity, being blown down, man will 
 quicklier be blown up : marry, in blowing him 
 down again, with the breach yourselves made, you 
 lose your city. It is not politic in the common- 
 wealth of nature, to preserve virginity. Loss of 
 virginity is rational increase ; and there was never 
 virgin got, till virginity was first lost. That, you 
 were made of, is metal to make virgins. Virginity, 
 by being once lost, may be ten times found : by 
 being ever kept, it is ever lost : 'tis too cold a com- 
 panion ; away -with it. 
 
 Hel. I will stand for't a little, though therefore 
 I die a virgin. , 
 
 (1) t. e. May you be mistress of your wishes, 
 ana have power to bring them to effect. 
 
 (Z) Helena considers her heart as the tablet on 
 ^yhich his resemblance was portrayed. 
 
 (3) Peculiarity of feature. (4) Countenance. 
 
 Par. There's little can be said in't ; 'tis against 
 the rule of nature. To speak on the part of vir- 
 ginity, is to accuse your mothers : which is most 
 infallible disobedience. He, that hangs himself, is 
 a virgin : virginity murders itself; and should be 
 buried in highways, out of all sanctified limit, as 
 a desperate offenuress against nature. Virginity- 
 breeds mites, much like a cheese ; consumes itself 
 to the very paring, and so dies with feeding his own 
 stomach. Besides, virginity is peevish, proud, idle, 
 made of self-love, which is the most inhibited* sin 
 in the canon. Keep it not ; you cannot choose but 
 lose by't ; Out with't : within ten years it will make 
 itself ten, which is a goodly increase ; and the prin- 
 cipal itself not much the worse : Away with't. 
 
 Hel. How might one do, sir, to lose "it to her own 
 liking ? 
 
 Par. Let me see : Marry, ill, to like him that 
 ne'er it likes. 'Tis a commodity will lose the gloss 
 with lying ; the longer kept, the less worth : ott 
 with't, while 'tis vendible : answer the time of re- 
 quest. Virginity, like an old courtier, wears her 
 cap out of fashion ; richly suited, but unsuitable : 
 just like the brooch and toothpick, which wear not 
 now: Your date 6 is better in your pie and your 
 porridge, than in your cheek : And your virginity, 
 your old virginity, is like one of our trench wither- 
 ed pears; it looks ill, it eats dryly; marry, 'tis a 
 withered pear ; it was formerly better ; marry, yet, 
 'tis a withered pear: Will you any thing with it? 
 
 Hel. Not my virginity yet. 
 There shall your master have a thousand loves, 
 A mother, and a mistress, and a friend, 
 A phoenix, captain, and an enemy, 
 A guide, a goddess, and a sovereign, 
 A counsellor, a traitress, and a dear ; 
 Hjs humble ambition, proud humility, 
 His jarring concord, and his discord dulcet, 
 His faith, his sweet disaster ; with a world 
 Of pretty, fond, adoptions Christendoms, 
 That blinking Cupid gossips. Now shall he 
 I know not what he shall : God send him well ! 
 The court's a learning-place ; and he is one 
 
 Par. What one, i'faith ? 
 
 lid. That I wish well. 'Tis pity- 
 Pro-. What's_pity? 
 
 Hel. That wishing well had not a body in't, 
 Which might be felt : that we, the poorer born, 
 Wliose baser stars do shut us up in wishes, 
 Migli' with (fleets of them follow our friends, 
 And show what we alone must think ;" which never 
 Returns us thanks. 
 
 Enter a Page. 
 
 Page. Monsieur Parolles, my lord calls for you. 
 
 [Exit Page. 
 
 Par. Little Helen, farewell : if I can remember 
 theo, I will think of thee, at court. 
 
 Hel. Monsieur Parolles, you were born under a 
 charitable star. 
 
 Par. Under Mars, I. 
 
 Hel. I especially think, under Mars. 
 
 Par. Why under Mars ? 
 
 Hel. The wars have so kept you under, that you 
 must needs be born under Mars. 
 
 Par. When he was predominant. 
 
 Hel. When he was retrograde, I think, rather. 
 
 Par. Why think you so ? 
 
 (5) Forbidden. 
 
 (6) A quibble on date, which means age, and 
 candied fruit. 
 
 (7) i. e. And show by realities what we uow 
 must only think.
 
 Seine 11, III. 
 
 ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL. 
 
 Hel. You go so much backward, when you fight 
 
 Par. That's for advantage. 
 
 Hel. So is running away, when fear proposes the 
 
 King. I would I had that corporal soundness now, 
 As when thy father, and myself, in friendship 
 First try'd our soldiership ! He did look far 
 
 safety : But the composition, that your valour and Into the service of the time, and was 
 fear makes in you, is a virtue of a good wing, and ! Discipled of the bravest: he lasted lone; 
 i like the wear well. But on us both did haggish a;re steal on, 
 
 Pur. I am so full of businesses, I cannot answer 
 thee acutely: I will return perfect courtier ; in the 
 
 , my instruction shall serve to naturalize thee, 
 >u wilt be capable 1 of a courtier's counsel, 
 and understand what advice shall thrust upon thee ; 
 
 which, 
 so thou 
 
 And wore us out of act. It much repairs* me 
 To talk of your good father : In his youth 
 He had the wit, which I fbn well observe 
 To-day in -our young lords ; but they may jest 
 Till their own scorn return to them unnoted, 
 
 else thou diest in thine ttnthankfulness. and thine Ere they can hide their levity in honour, 
 ignorance makes thee away : farewell. When thou So like a courtier, contempt'nor bitterness 
 
 hast leisure, say thy prayers ; when thou hast 
 none, remember thy friends : get thee a good hus- 
 band, and use him as he uses thte : so farewell. 
 
 [Exit. 
 
 Hfl. Our remedies oft in ourselves do lie, 
 Which we ascribe to heaven : the fated sky 
 Gives us free scope ; only, doth backward pull 
 Our slow designs, when we ourselves arc dull. 
 What power is it, which mounts my love so high 
 That makes me see, and cannot feed mine eye ? 
 The mightiest space in fortune nature brings 
 To join "like likes, and kiss like native things.* 
 Impossible be strange attempts, to those 
 That weigh their pains in sense : and do suppose, 
 What hath been cannot be : Who ever strove 
 To show her merit, that did miss her love ? 
 The king's disease my project may deceive me, 
 But my intents are fix'd, and will not leave me. 
 
 [Exit. 
 
 *1 room in the King'spataee. 
 Enter the King of Prance, 
 
 SCENE //.Paris. 
 Flourish of cornets, 
 with letters ; Lords and others attending. 
 
 King. The Florentines and Senoys' are by the 
 
 ears; 
 
 Have fought with equal fortune, and continue 
 A braving war. 
 
 1 Lord. So 'tis reported, sir. 
 
 King. Nay, 'tis most credible ; we here receive it 
 A certainty, vouch'd from our cousin Austria, 
 With caution, that the Florentine will move us 
 For speedy aid ; wherein our dearest friend 
 Prejudicates the business, and would seem 
 To have us make denial. 
 
 1 Lord. His love and wisdom, 
 
 Approv'd so to your majesty, may plead 
 For amplest credence. 
 
 Kins:. 
 
 He hath arm'd our answer, 
 
 And Florence is denied before he comes : 
 Yet, for our gentlemen, that mean to see 
 The Tuscan service, freely have they leave 
 To stand on either part. 
 
 2 fard. It may well serve 
 
 A nursery to our gentry, who are sick 
 For breathing and exploit. 
 
 King. What's he comes here ? 
 
 Enter Bertram, Lafeu, and Parolles. 
 
 1 Lord. It is the count Rousillon, my good lord, 
 Young Bertram. 
 
 King. Youth, thou bear'st thy father's face ; 
 Frank nature, rather curious than in haste, 
 Hath well compos'd Ihee. Thy father's moral parts 
 May'st thou inherit too! Welcome to Paris. 
 
 Ber. My thanks and duty are your majesty's. 
 
 (1)?'. t. Thou wilt comprehend it. 
 (21 Things formed by nature for each other. 
 (S) The citizens of the small republic of which 
 Sienna is the capital. 
 (4) To repair, here signifies to renovate. 
 
 Were in his pride or sharpness ; if they were, 
 
 His equal had awak'd them ; and his honour, 
 
 Clock to itself, knew the true minute when 
 
 Exception bid him speak, and, at this time, 
 
 His tongue obey'd his 5 hand : who were below liim 
 
 He us'd as creatures of another place ; 
 
 And bow'd his eminent top to their low ranks, 
 
 Making them proud of his humility, 
 
 In their poor praise he humbled : Such a man 
 
 Might be a copy to these vounger times ; 
 
 Wnich, foilow'd well, would demonstrate them now 
 
 But goers backward. 
 
 Ber. His good remembrance, sir, 
 
 Lies richer in your thoughts, than on his tomb ; 
 So in approof 6 lives not his epitaph, 
 As in your roy?.l speech. 
 
 King. 'Would, I were with him ! He would al- 
 ways say, 
 
 (Methinks, I hear him now ; his plausive words 
 He scatter'd not in ears, but grafted them, 
 To grow there, and to bear,) Let me not live, 
 Thus his good melancholy oft began, 
 On the catastrophe and heel of pastime, 
 When it was out, let me not live, quoth he, 
 After my flame lacks oil, to be the snuff 
 Of younger spirits, whose apprehensive senses 
 Jill but nfw things disdain : ic hose judgments are 
 Mere fathers of their garments ;" whose constancies 
 
 Expire btfort their fashions : This he wish'd : 
 
 I, after him, do after him wish too, 
 Since I nor wax, nor honey, can bring home, 
 I quickly were dissolved from my hive, 
 To give some labourers room. 
 
 2 Lc:-J. You are lov'd, sir ; 
 
 They, that least lend it you, shall lack you first. 
 
 King. I fill a place, I know'L. How long is't, 
 
 count, 
 
 Since the physician at your father's died ? 
 He was much fam'd. 
 
 Ber. Some six month? since, my lord. 
 
 King. If he were living, I would try him yet; . 
 Lend me an arm ; the rest have worn me out 
 With several applications : nature and sickness 
 Debate it at their leisure. Welcome, count ; 
 VIv son's no dearer. 
 
 "Bfr. Thank vour majesty. 
 
 [Exeunt. Flourish. 
 
 SCENE ///.Rousillon. A Room in the Coun- 
 
 Enter Countess, Steward, and 
 
 tess's Palace. 
 Clown. 
 
 Count. I will now hear ; what say you of this 
 gentlewoman? 
 
 Sfeic. Madam, the care I have had to even your 
 content, 8 I wish might be found in the calendar 
 of my past endeavours ; for then we wound our 
 
 (5) His is put for its. (6) Approbation. 
 (7) Who have no other use of their faculties than 
 to invent new modes of dress. 
 (S) To act up to your desires.
 
 230 
 
 ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL. 
 
 Act I. 
 
 modesty, and make Foul the clearness of our de- 
 servings, when of ourselves we publish them. 
 
 Count. What does this knave here? Get you 
 gone, sirrah : The complaints, I have heard of you, 
 I do not aH believe ; 'tis my slowness, that I do not : 
 for, I know, you lack not' folly to commit them, anc 
 have ability enough to make such knaveries yours. 
 
 Clo. 'Tis not unknown to you, madam, I am a 
 poor fellow. 
 
 Count. Well, sir. 
 
 Clo. No, madam, 'tis not so well, that I am poor ; 
 though many of the rich are damned : But, if I 
 may nave your ladyship's good will to go to the 
 world, 1 Isbel the woman and I will do as we may. 
 
 Count. Wilt thou needs be a beggar ? 
 
 Clo. I do ben; your good will in this case. 
 
 Coutlt. In what case? 
 
 Clo. In Isbcl's case, and mine own. Service 
 
 is no heritage : and, I think, I shall never have the 
 
 blessing of God, till I have issue of my body ; for, 
 
 thev say, beams 2 are blessings. 
 
 Count. Tell me the reason why thou wilt marry. 
 
 Clo. My poor body, madam, requires it : I am 
 driven on by the flesh ; and he must needs go, that 
 the devil drives. 
 
 Count. Is this all your worship's reason ? 
 
 Clo. Faith, madam, I have other holy reasons, 
 snch as they are. 
 
 Count. May the world know them ? 
 
 Clo. I have been, madam, a wicked creature, as 
 you and all flesh and blood are ; and, indeed, I do 
 marry, that I may repent. 
 
 Count. Thy marriage, sooner than thy wicked- 
 ness. 
 
 Clo. I am out of friends, madam ; and I hope to 
 have friends for my wife's sake. 
 
 Count. Such friends are thine enemies, knave. 
 
 Clo. You are shallow, madam ; e'en great friends; 
 for the knaves come to do that for me, which I am 
 a-weary of. He, that ears 3 my land, spares .my 
 team, and gives me leave to inn the crop: If I be 
 his cuckold, he's my drudge: He, that comforts 
 my wife, is the cherisher of my flesh and blood ; 
 he, that cherishes my flesh and blood, loves my 
 flesh and blood ; he, that loves my flesh and blood. 
 is my friend : ergo,* he that kisses my wife, is my 
 friend. If men could be contented to be what they 
 are, there were no fear in marriage ; for young 
 Charbon the puritan, and old Poysam the papist, 
 howsoe'er their hearts are severed in religion, their 
 heads arc both one, they may joll horns together, 
 like any deer i' the herd. 
 
 Count. Wilt thou ever be a foul-mouthed and 
 calumnious knave ? 
 
 Clo. A prophet I, madam ; and I speak the 
 truth the next way : s 
 
 For I the ballad will repeat, \ 
 Which men full true shall find; 
 
 Your marriage comes by destiny, 
 Your cuckoo sings by kind. 
 
 Count. Get you gone, sir ; I'll talk with you 
 more anon. 
 
 Stew. May it please you, madam, that he bid 
 Helen come to you ; of her I am to speak. 
 
 Count. Sirrah, tell my gentlewoman, I would 
 epeak with her ; Helen I mean. 
 
 Clo. Was this fair face the cause, quoth she, 
 
 [Singing. 
 
 Why the Grecians sacked Troy 1 
 Fond done, 6 done fond, 
 
 (1) To be married. 
 (3) Ploughs. 
 
 (2J Children. 
 (4) Therefore. 
 
 Was this king Priam's joy ? 
 With that she sighed as she stood, 
 With that she sighed as she stood, 
 
 J)nd gave this sentence then ; 
 *1mong nine bad if one be good, 
 Jlmong nine bad ijone be good, 
 There's yet one good in ten. 
 
 Count. What, one good in ten ? you corrupt the 
 song, sirrah. 
 
 Clo. One good woman in ten, madam ; which 
 is a purifying o' the song : 'Would God would 
 serve the world so all the year! we'd find no fault 
 with the tythe-woman, if I were the parson : One 
 in ten, quoth a' ! an we might have a good woman 
 born but every blazing star, or at an earthquake, 
 'twould mend the lottery well ; a man may draw 
 his heart out, ere he pluck one. 
 
 Count. You'll be gone, sir knave, and do as I 
 command you? 
 
 Clo. That man should be at woman's command, 
 and yet no hurt done ! Though honesty be no pu- 
 ritan, )-ct it will do no hurt ; it will we'ar the sur- 
 plice of humility over the black gown of a big 
 heart. I am going, forsooth : the business is for 
 Helen to come hither. [Exit Clown. 
 
 Count. Well, now. 
 
 Stew. I know, madam, j - ou love your gentle- 
 woman entirely. 
 
 Count. Faith, I do : her father bequeathed her 
 to me; and she herself, without other advantage, 
 may lawfully make title to as much love as she 
 finds: there is more owing her, than is paid; and 
 more shall be paid her, than she'll demand. 
 
 Stew. Madam, I was very late more near her 
 than, I think, she wished me: alone she was, and 
 did communicate to herself, her own words to her 
 own ears ; she thought, I dare vow for her, they 
 touched not any stranger sense. Her matter was, 
 she loved yosir son : Fortune, she said, was no 
 goddess, that had put such difference betwixt their 
 two estates ; Love, no goil, that would not extend 
 liis might, only where qualities were level ; Diana, 
 10 queen of virgins, that would suffer her poor 
 \night to be surprised, without rescue, in the first 
 assault, or ransome afterward : This she delivered 
 in the most bitter touch of sorrow, that e'er I hoard 
 virgin exclaim in : which I held my duty, speedily 
 to acquaint you withal ; sithcnce,' in the loss that 
 may happen, it concerns you something to know it. 
 
 Count. You have discharged this honestly ; keep 
 t to yourself: many likelihoods informed me of 
 .his before, which hung so tottering in the balance 
 that I could neither believe, nor misdoubt : Pray 
 von, leave me : stall this in your bosom, and I 
 hank you for your honest care: I will speak with 
 you further anon. [Exit Steward. 
 
 Enter Helena. 
 
 Count. Even so it was with me, when I was 
 
 young: 
 
 If we are nature's, these are ours ; this thorn 
 Doth to our rose of youth rightly belong ; 
 
 Our blood to us, this to our blood ie born ; 
 It is the show and seal of nature's truth, 
 Where love's strong passion is impress'd in youth . 
 By pur remembrances of days foregone, 
 Such were our faults ; or then we thought thero 
 
 none. 
 
 Her eye is sick on't ; I observe her now. 
 lid. What is your pleasure, madam? 
 Count. You know, Helen 
 
 (5) The nearest way. 
 (7) Since. 
 
 (6) Foolishly done
 
 Scene III. 
 
 ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL. 
 
 231 
 
 I am a mother to yon. 
 
 Htl. Mine honourable mistress. 
 
 Count. Nay, a mother ; 
 
 Why not a mother ? When I said, a mother, 
 Methought you saw a serpent : What's in mother, 
 That you start at it ? I say, I am your mother ; 
 And put you in the catalogue of those 
 That were enwombed mine : 'Tis often seen, 
 Adoption strives with nature ; and choice breeds 
 A native slip to us from foreign seeds : 
 You ne'er oppress'd me with a mother's groan, 
 Yet I express to you a mother's care : 
 God's mercy, ma'iden ! does it curd thy blood, 
 To say, I am thy mother ? What's- the matter, 
 That this distemper'd messenger of wet, 
 The many-colour'd Iris, rounds thine eye ? 
 Whv ? - that you are my daughter ? 
 
 Hel. That I am not. 
 
 Count. I say, I am your mother. 
 
 Hel. Pardon, madam ; 
 
 The count Rousillon cannot be my brother : 
 I am from humble, he from honour'd name ; 
 No note upon my parents, his all noble : 
 My master, my dear lord, he is ; and I 
 His servant live, and will his vassal die : 
 He must not be my brother. 
 
 Count. Nor I your mother ? 
 
 Htl. You are my mother, madam ; 'Would you 
 
 were 
 
 (So that my lord, your son, were not. my brother,) 
 I ndecd, my mother ! or were you both our mothers, 
 I care no more for, 1 than I do for heaven, 
 So I were not his sister : Can't no other, 
 But, I your daughter, he must be my brother ? 
 
 Count. Yes, Helen, you might be my daughter- 
 
 in-law ; 
 
 God shield, you mean it not ! daughter, and mother, 
 So strive 2 upon your pulse : What, pale again ? 
 My fear hath catch'd vour fondness : Now I see 
 The mystery of your loneliness, and find 
 Your salt tears' head. 1 Now to all sense 'tis gross, 
 You love my son ; invention is asham'd, 
 Against the proclamation of thy passion, 
 To say, thou dost not : therefore tell me true : 
 But tell me then, 'tis so : for, look, thy cheeks 
 Confess it, one to the other ; and thine eyes 
 Sre it so grossly shown in thy behaviours, 
 That in their kind 4 they speak it : only sin 
 And hellish obstinacy tie thy tongue, 
 That truth should be suspected : Speak, is't so ? 
 If it be so, you have wound a goodly clue ; 
 If it be not, forswear't : howe'er, I charge thee, 
 As heaven shall work in me for thine avail, 
 To tell me truly. 
 
 Hel. Good madam, pardon me ! 
 
 Count. Do you love my son? 
 
 Hel. Your pardon, noble mistress ! 
 
 Count. Love you my son ? 
 
 Hel. Do not you love him, madam ? 
 
 Count. Go not about ; ' my love hath in't a 
 
 bond, 
 \Vhereof the world takes note : come, come, dis- 
 
 close 
 
 The state of your affection ; for your passions 
 Have to the full appeach'd. 
 
 Htl. Then, I confess, 
 
 Here on my knee, before high heaven and you, 
 That before you, and next unto high heaven, 
 
 love your son : 
 
 Vly friends were poor ? but honest ; so'a my lore ; 
 Je not offended ; for it hurts not him, 
 That he is lov'd of me : I follow him not 
 Jy any token of presumptuous suit ; 
 S or would I have him, till I do deserve him ; 
 fet never know how that desert should be. 
 
 know I love in vain, strive against hope ; 
 fet, in this captious and intenable sieve, 
 
 still pour in the waters of my love, 
 And lack not to lose still : thus, Indian-like, 
 leligious in mine error, I adore 
 ^he~sun, that looks upon his worshipper, 
 Jut knows of him no more. My dearest madam, 
 -.el not your hate encounter with my love, 
 "or loving where you do : but, if yourself, 
 Vhose aged honour cites a virtuous youth, 5 
 )id ever, in so true a flame of liking, 
 Vish chastely, and love dearlv, that your Dian 
 Vas both herself and love ; s then, give pity 
 A o her, whose state is such, that cannot choose 
 Jut lend and give, where she is sure to lose ; 
 ^hat seeks not to find that her search implies, 
 Jut, riddle-like, lives sweetly where she dies. 
 
 Count. Had you not lately an intent, speak truly, 
 To go to Paris'? 
 
 Hel. Madam, I had. 
 
 Count. Wherefore ? tell true* 
 
 Hel. I will tell truth ; by grace itself, I swear. 
 fou know, my father left me some prescriptions 
 Of rare and prov'd effects, such as his reading, 
 \nd manifest experience, had collected 
 ~?or general sovereignty ; and that he will'd me 
 n heedfullest reservation to bestow them, 
 \s notes, whose faculties inclusive were, 
 More than they were in note : T amongst the rest, 
 There is a remedy, approv'd, set down, 
 To cure the desperate languishes, whereof 
 The king is render'd lost. 
 
 Count. v This was your motive 
 
 r or Paris, was it? speair. 
 
 Hel. My lord your son made me to think of this ; 
 Slse Paris, and the medicine, and the king, 
 iad, from the conversation of my thoughts, 
 Haply, been absent then. 
 
 Count. But think you, Helen, 
 
 ^f you should tender your supposed aid, 
 :Ie would receive it ? He and his physicians 
 \re of a mind ; he, that they cannot help him, 
 They, that they cannot help : How shall they credit 
 \ poor unlearned virgin, when the schools, 
 Embowell'd of their doctrine, 8 have left off 
 The danger to itself? 
 
 Hel. There's something hints, 
 
 Vlore than my father's skill, which was the greatest 
 Df his profes'sion, that his good receipt 
 Shall, for my legacy, be sanctified 
 8y the luckiest 'stars in heaven : and, would your 
 
 honour 
 
 But give me leave to try success, I'd venture 
 The well-lost life of mine on his grace's cure, 
 By such a day, and hour. 
 Count. Dost thou believe't ? 
 
 Hel. Ay, madam, knowingly. 
 
 Count. Why, Helen, thou shalt have my leave, 
 
 and love, 
 
 Means, and attendants, and mv loving greetings 
 To those of mine in court ; I'll stay at borne, 
 
 (1) t. e. I care as much for : I wish it equally. 
 
 h) Contend. 
 
 f3) The source, the cause of your grief. 
 
 (4) According to their nature. 
 
 (5) i. e. Whose respectable conduct in aj:e proves 
 
 that you were no less virtuous when young. 
 
 (6) t. e. Venus. 
 
 (7) Receipts in -which greater virtues were en 
 closed than appeared. 
 
 S) Exhausted of their skill.
 
 ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL. 
 
 Act II, 
 
 And pray God's blessing into thy attempt : 
 Be gone to-morrow ; and be sure of this, 
 What I can help thee to, thou shall not miss. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 ACT II. 
 
 SCENE I. Paris. Jl room in the King's palace. 
 Flourish. Enter King, with young Lords taking 
 leave for the Florentine war ; Bertram, Parolles, 
 and attendants. 
 
 King. Farewell, young lord, these warlike prin- 
 ciples, 
 
 Do not throw from you : and you, my lord, fare- 
 well : 
 
 Share the advice betwixt you ; if both gain all, 
 The gift doth stretch itself as 'tis receiv'd, 
 And is enough for both. 
 
 1 Lord. It is our hope, sir, 
 
 After well-enter'd soldiers, to return 
 And find your grace in health. 
 
 King. No, no, it cannot be ; and yet my heart 
 Will not confess he owes the malady 
 That doth my life besiege. Farewell, young lords; 
 Whether I live or die, be you the sons 
 Of worthy Frenchmen : let higher Italy 
 (Those 'bated, that inherit but the fall 
 Of the last monarchy, 1 ) see, that you come 
 Not to woo honour, iut to wed it ; when 
 The bravest questant 2 shrinks, find what you seek, 
 That fame may cry you loud : I say, farewell. 
 
 Z Lord. Health, at your bidding, serve your 
 majesty ! 
 
 King. Those girls of Italy, take heed of them ; 
 They say, our French lack language to deny, 
 If they demand: beware of being captives, 
 Before you serve.' 
 
 Both. Our hearts receive your warnings. 
 
 King. Farewell. Come hither to me. 
 
 [The King retires to a couch. 
 
 1 Lord. O my sweet lord, that you will stay 
 
 behind us. 
 Par. 'Tis not his fault ; the spark 
 
 2 Lord. O, 'tis brave wars ! 
 Par. Most admirable : I have seen those wars. 
 Ber. I am commanded here, and kept a coil* with; 
 
 Too young, and the next year, and 'f is too early. 
 
 Par. An thy mind stand to it, boy, steal away 
 bravely. 
 
 Ber. I shall stay here the forehorse to a smock, 
 Creaking my shoes on the plain masonry, 
 Till honour be bought up, and no sword worn, 
 But one to dance with ! 4 By heaven, I'll steal away. 
 
 1 Lord. There's honour in the theft. 
 
 Par. Commit it, count. 
 
 2 Lord. I am your accessary ; and so farewell. 
 Ber. I grow to you, and our parting is a tortured 
 
 body. 
 
 1 Lord. Farewell, captain. 
 
 2 Lord. Sweet monsieur Parolles ! 
 
 Par. Noble heroes, my sword and yours are kin". 
 Good sparks and lustrous, a word, pood metals: 
 You shall find in the regiment of the Spinii, one 
 captain Spurio, with his cicatrice ? an emblem of 
 war, here on his sinister cheek; it was this very 
 
 (1) t. e. Those excepted who possess modern 
 Italy, the remains of the Roman empire. 
 
 Seeker, inquirer. 
 
 Seeker, inquirer. 
 
 Be not captives before you are soldiers. 
 
 4 Wjth a noise, bustle. 
 
 5 In Shakspeare's time it was usual for gentle- 
 men to dance with swords on. 
 
 sword entrenched it : say to him, I live ; and ob- 
 serve his reports for me. 
 
 2 Lord. We shall, noble captain. 
 
 Par. Mars dote on you for his novices ! [Exeunt 
 Lords.] What will you do ? 
 
 Ber. Stay ; the king [Seeing- Aim rise. 
 
 Par. Use a more spacious ceremony to the noble 
 lords ; you have restrained yourself within the list 
 of too cold an adieu : be more expressive to them ; 
 for they wear themselves in the cap of time, 6 there, 
 do muster true gait,' eat, speak, and move under 
 the influence of the most received star; and though 
 the devil lead the measure, 8 such are to be follow- 
 ed : after them, and take a more dilated farewell. 
 
 Ber. And I will do so. 
 
 Par. Worthy fellows: and like to prove most 
 sinewy sword-men. [Exe. Bertram and Parolles. 
 
 Enter Lafeu. 
 
 Laf. Pardon, my lord, [Kneeling.'} for me and 
 for my tidings. 
 
 King. I'll fee thee to stand up. 
 
 Laf. Then here's a man 
 
 Stands, that has brought his pardon. I would, you 
 Had kneel'd, my lord, to ask me mercy ; and 
 That, at my bidding, you could so stand up. 
 
 King. 1 would I had ; so I had broke thy pate, 
 And ask'd thee mercy for't. 
 
 Laf. Good faith, across * 
 
 But, my good lord, 'tis thus ; Will you be cur'd 
 Of your infirmity? 
 
 King. No. 
 
 Laf. O, will you eat 
 
 No grapes, my royal fox? yes, but you will, 
 My noble grapes, an if my royal fox 
 Could reach them : I have seen a medicine, 10 
 That's able to breathe life into a stone ; 
 Quicken a rock, and make you dance canary," 
 With sprightly fire and motion ; whose simple touch 
 Is powerful to araise king Pepin, nay, 
 To give great Charlemain a pen in his hand, 
 AncT write to her a love-line. 
 
 King. What her is this ? 
 
 Laf. Why, doctor she : My lord, there's one 
 
 arriv'd, 
 
 If you will see her, now, by my faith and honour, 
 If seriously I may convey my thoughts 
 In this my light deliverance. I have spoke 
 With one, that, in her sex, her years, profession, 1 * 
 Wisdom, and constancy, hath amaz'd me more 
 Than I dare blame my weakness : Will you see her, 
 (For that is her demand,) and know her business ? 
 That done, laugh well at me. 
 
 King. Now, good Lafeu, 
 
 Bring in the admiration ; that we with thee 
 May spend our wonder too, or take off thine, 
 By wond'ring how thou took'st it. 
 
 Laf. Nay, I'll fit you, 
 
 And not be all day neither. [Exit Lafeu. 
 
 King. Thus he his special nothing ever prologues 
 
 Re-enter Lafeu, with Helena. 
 Laf. Nay, come your ways. 
 King. This haste hath wings indeed 
 
 Laf. Nay, come your ways ; 
 This is his majesty, say your mind to him : 
 
 (6J They are the foremost in the fashion. 
 
 (7J Have the true military step. (8) The dance. 
 
 (9) Unskilfuljy ; a phrase taken from the exer- 
 cise at a quintaine. 
 
 (10} A female physician, (in A kind of dance. 
 
 (12) By profession is meant her declaration oJ 
 the object of her coming,
 
 Scene IL 
 
 ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL 
 
 '233 
 
 A traitor you do look like ; but such traitors But know I think, and think I know most sure, 
 
 His majesty seldom fears : I am Cressid's uncle, 1 
 
 That dare leave two together ; fare you well. [Ear. 
 
 King. Now, fair one, does your business folio w us ? 
 
 Hel. Ay, my good lord. Gerard de Narbon was 
 My father ; in what he did profess, well found. 2 
 
 Kins- I knew him. 
 
 Mv art is not past power, nor you past cure. 
 
 King. Art thou so confident? Within what space 
 Hop'st thou my cure ? 
 
 Hel. The greatest grace lending grace, 
 
 Ere twice the horses of the sun shall bring 
 | Their fiery torcher his diurnal ring : 
 Hel" The rather will I spare my praises towards Ere_ twice in murk and occidental damp 
 
 liivi \Imt Hf^crir'nicS hnfli nnfnfKVl Vila olnm 
 
 him; 
 
 Knowing him, is enough. On his bed of death 
 Many receipts he gave me ; chiefly one, 
 Which, as the dearest issue of his practice, 
 And of his old experience the only darling, 
 He bade me store up, as a triple eye, 3 
 Safer than mine own two, more dear: I have so : 
 And, hearing your high majesty is touch'd 
 With that malignant cause wherein the honour 
 Of my dear father's gift stands chief in power, 
 I come to tender it, and my appliance, 
 With all bound humbleness. 
 
 King. We thank you, maiden ; 
 
 But may not be so credulous of cure, 
 When our most learned doctors leave us ; and 
 The congregated college have concluded 
 That labouring art can never ransom nature 
 From her inaidable estate, I say we must not 
 So stain pur judgment, or corrupt our hope, 
 To prostitute our past-cure malady 
 To Empirics ; or to dissever so 
 Our great self and our credit, to esteem 
 A senseless help, when help past sense we deem. 
 
 Hel. My duty then shall pav me for my pains : 
 I will no more enforce mine office on you"; 
 Humbly entreating from your royal thoughts 
 A modest one, to Gear me back again. 
 
 King. I cannot give thee less, to be call'd 
 
 grateful ; 
 
 Thou thought'st to help me ; and such thanks I give, 
 As one near death to those that wish him live : 
 But, what at full I know, Ihou know'st no part ; 
 I knowing all my peril, thou no art. 
 
 Hel. What I can do, can do no hurt to try, 
 Since you set up your rest 'gainst remedy : 
 He that of greatest works is finisher, 
 Oft does them by the weakest minister : 
 So holy writ in babes hath judgment shown, 
 When judges have been babes.* Great floods hare 
 
 flown 
 
 From simple sources ; * and great seas have dried, 
 When miracles have by the greatest been denied. 6 
 Oft expectation fails, and most oft there 
 Where most it promises ; and oft it hits, 
 Where hope is coldest, and despair most sits. 
 
 King. I must not hear thee ; fare thce well, kind 
 
 maid ; 
 
 Thy pains, not us'd, must by thvseif be paid : 
 Proffers, not took, reap thanks for their reward. 
 
 77 el. Inspired merit so by breath is barr'd : 
 It is not so with him that all things knows, 
 As 'tis with us that square our guess by shows : 
 But most it is presumption in us, when 
 The help of heaven we count the act of men. 
 Dear sir, to my endeavours give consent ; 
 Of heaven, not me, make an'experiment. 
 I am not an impostor, that proclaim 
 Myself against the level of mine aim ;' 
 
 I am like Pandarus. 
 2) Of acknowledged excellence. (3) A third eye. 
 
 4) An allusion to Daniel judging the two Elders. 
 
 5) t. e. W 7 hen Moses smote the rock in Horeb. 
 ,6) This must refer to the children of Israel 
 
 passing the Red Sea, when miracles had been de- 
 nied by Pharaoh. 
 
 hath quench'd his sleepy lamp ; 
 Or four and twenty times the pilot's glass 
 Hath told the thievish minute's how they pass ; 
 What is infirm from your sound parts shall fly, 
 Health shall live free, and sickness freely die. 
 
 King. Upon thy certainty and confidence, 
 What dar'st Ihou venture ? 
 
 Hel. Tax of impudence, 
 
 A strumpet's boldness, a divulged shame, 
 Traduc'd by odious ballads ; my maiden's name 
 Sear'd otherwise ; no worse of worst extended, 
 With vilest torture let my life be ended. 
 
 King. Methinks, in thee some blessed spirit 
 
 doth speak ; 
 
 His powerful sound, within an organ weak : 
 And what impossibility would slay- 
 In common sense, sense saves another way. 
 Thy life is dear : for all, that life can rate 
 AVorth nam6 of life, in thee hath estimate ; 
 Youth, beauty, wisdom, courage, virtue, all 
 That happiness and prune 10 can nappy call : 
 Thou this to hazard, needs must intimate 
 Skill innnite ; or monstrous desperate. 
 Sweet practiser, thy physic I will try ; 
 That ministers thine own death, if I die. 
 
 Hel. If I break time, or ilinch in property 
 Of what I spoke, unpitied let me die ; 
 And well deserv'd : Not helping, death's my fee , 
 But, if I help, what do you promise me? 
 
 King. Make thy demand. 
 
 But will you make it even 7 
 
 King. Ay, by my sceptre, and my hopes of 
 heaven. 
 
 Hel. Then shall thou give me, with thy kingly 
 
 hand, 
 
 What husband in thy power I will command : 
 Exempted be from nic the arrogance 
 To choose from forth the royal blood of France - 
 My low and humble name to propagate 
 With any branch or image of thy 'state: 
 But such a one, thy vassal, whom I know 
 Is free for me to ask, thee to bestow. 
 
 King. Here is my hand ; the premises obscrv'd, 
 Thy will by my performance shall be serv'd ; 
 So make the choice of thy own time ; for I, 
 Thy resolv'd patient, on thee still rely. 
 More should I question thee, and more I must ; 
 Though, mere to know, could not be more to trust ; 
 From whence thou cam's t, how tended on, But 
 
 rest 
 
 Unquestion'd welcome, and undoubted blest. 
 Give me some help here, ho ! If thou proceed 
 As high as word, my deed shall match thy deed. 
 
 [Flourish. Exevnt. 
 
 SCENE 77. Rousilion. .1 room in the Coun- 
 tess's Palace. Enter Countess and Clown. 
 
 Count. Come on, sir ; I shall now put you to the 
 height of your breeding. 
 
 (7) i. e. Pretend to greater things than befits the 
 mediocrity of my condition. 
 
 (8) The evening star. 
 
 (9) i. e. May be counted among the gifts enioyed 
 by thee. 
 
 " (10) The spring or morning of life, 
 Z G
 
 234 
 
 ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL. 
 
 Act IT. 
 
 Clo. I will show myself highly fed, and lowly 
 taught : I know my business is but to the court. 
 
 Count. To the court ! why, what place make you 
 special, when you put off that with such contempt ? 
 But to the court! 
 
 Clo. Truly, madam, if God have lent a man any 
 manners, he may easily put it off at court : he that 
 cannot make a leg, put off's cap, kiss his hand, and 
 say nothing', has neither leg, hands, lip ; nor cap ; 
 and, indeed, such a fellow, to say precisely, were 
 not for the court ; but, for me, I have an answer 
 will serve all men. 
 
 Count. Marry, that's a bountiful answer, that fits 
 all Questions. 
 
 Clo. It is like a barber's chair, that fits all but- 
 tocks ; the pin-buttock, the quatch-buttock, the 
 brawn-buttock, or any buttock. 
 
 Count. Will your answer serve to fit all ques- 
 tions? 
 
 Clo. As fit as ten groats is for the hand of an 
 attorney, as your French crown for your taffata 
 punk, as Tib's rush for Tom's forcrfinger, as a pan- 
 cake for Shrove-Tuesday, a morris for May-day, 
 as the nail to his hole, the cuckold to his horn, as 
 a scolding quean to a wrangling knave, as the 
 nun's lip to the friar's mouth ; nay, as the pudding 
 to his skin. 
 
 Count. Have you, I say, an answer of such fit- 
 ness for all questions ? 
 
 Clo. From below your duke, to beneath your con- 
 stable, it will fit any question. 
 
 Count. It must be an answer of most monstrous 
 8ize, that must fit all demands. 
 
 Clo. But a trifle neither, in good faith, if the 
 learned should speak truth of it : here it is, and all 
 that belongs to't: Ask me, if I am a courtier; it 
 shall do you no harm to learn. 
 
 Count. To be young again, if we could: I will 
 be a fool in question, hoping to be the wiser by 
 your answer. I pray you, sir, are you a courtier"? 
 
 Clo. O Lord, sir, There's a simple putting off; 
 more, more, a hundred of them. 
 
 Count. Sir, ^am a poor friend of yours, that 
 loves you. 
 
 Clo. Lord, sir, Thick, thick, spare not me. 
 
 Count. I think, sir, you can eat none of this 
 homely meat. 
 
 Clo. O Lord, sir, Nay, put me to't, I warrant you. 
 
 Count. You were lately whipped, sir, as I think. 
 
 Clo. Lord, sir, Spare not me. 
 
 Count. Do you cry, Lord, sir, at your whip- 
 ping, and spare not me ? Indeed, your O Lord, sir, 
 is very sequent 1 to your whipping ; you would 
 answer very well to a whipping, if you were but 
 bound to't. 
 
 Clo. I ne'er had worse luck in my life, in my 
 Lord, sir ; I see, things may serve long, but not 
 serve ever. 
 
 Count. I play the noble housewife with the time, 
 to entertain it so merrily with a fool. 
 
 Clo. Lord, sir, Why, there't serves well again. 
 
 Count. An end, sir, to your business: Give 
 
 Helen this, 
 
 And urge her to a present answer back : 
 Commend me to my kinsmen, and my son ; 
 This is not much. 
 
 Clo. Not much commendation to them. 
 
 Count. Not much employment for you : You un- 
 derstand nK' ? 
 
 Clo. Most fruitfully , I am there before my legs. 
 
 (1) Properly follows. (2) Ordinary. 
 
 (S) Fear means here the object of fear. 
 (4) The dauphin. (5) Wicked. 
 
 Count. Haste you again. [Exeunt severally. 
 
 SCEJVJE ///.Paris. A room in the King's Pa- 
 lace. Enter Bertram, Lafeu, ana Parofles. 
 
 Laf. They say, miracles are past ; and we have 
 our philosophical persons, to make modern 2 and 
 familiar things, supernatural and causeless. Hence 
 is it, that we make trifles of terrors ; ensconcing 
 ourselves into seeming knowledge, when we should 
 submit ourselves to an unknown fear. 3 
 
 Par. Why, 'tis the rarest argument of wonder, 
 that hath shot out in our latter times. 
 
 Ber. And so 'tis. 
 
 Laf. To be relinquished of the artists, 
 
 Par. So I say ; both of Galen and Paracelsus. 
 
 Laf. Of all the learned and authentic fellows, 
 
 Par. Right, so I say. 
 
 Laf. That gave him out incurable, 
 
 Par. Why, there 'tis ; so say I too. 
 
 Laf. Not to be helped, 
 
 Par. Right : as 'twere, a man assured of an 
 
 Laf. Uncertain life, and sure death. 
 
 Par. Just, you say well ; so would I have said. 
 
 Laf. I may' truly say, it is a novelty to the world. 
 
 Par. It is, indeed : if you will have it in show- 
 ing, you shall read it in, What do you call 
 
 there ? 
 
 Laf. A showing of a heavenly effect in an earth- 
 ly actor. 
 
 Par. That's it I would have said : the very same. 
 
 Laf. Why, your dolphin* is not lustier : 'fore me 
 I speak in respect 
 
 Par. Nay, 'tis strange, 'tis very strange, that is 
 the brief and the tedious of it ; and he is of a most 
 facinorous 5 spirit, that will not acknowledge it to 
 be the 
 
 Laf. Very hand of heaven. 
 
 Par. Ay, so I say. 
 
 Laf. In a most weak 
 
 Par. And debile minister, great power, great 
 transcendence : which should, indeed, give us a 
 further use to be made, than alone the recovery of 
 the king, as to be 
 
 Laf. Generally thankful. 
 
 Enter King, Helena, and attendants. 
 
 Par. I would have said it ; you say well : Here 
 comes the king. 
 
 Laf. Lustick," as the Dutchman says : I'll like a 
 maid the better, whilst I have a tooth in my head . 
 Why, he's able to lead her a coranto. 
 
 Par. Mart du Vinaigre ! Is not this Helen ? 
 
 Laf. 'Fore God, I think so. 
 
 King. Go, call before me all the lords in court.. 
 [Exit an attendant. 
 
 Sit, my preserver, by thy patient's side ; 
 And with this healthful hand, whose banish' d scnso 
 Thou hast repeal'd, a second time receive 
 The confirmation of my promis'd gift, 
 Which but attends thy naming. 
 
 Enter several Lords. 
 Fair maid, send forth thine eye : this youthful parcel 
 Of noble bachelors stand at my bestowing, 
 O'er whom both sovereign poivcr and father's voice* 
 I have to use : thy frank election make ; 
 Thou hast power to choose, and they none to forsake. 
 Hel. To each of you one fair and virtuous mis- 
 tress 
 Fall, when love please ! marry, to each, but one " 
 
 (6) Lustigh is the Dutch word for lusty, cheerful. 
 
 h) They were wards as well as subjects. 
 
 (8) Except one meaning Bertram.
 
 Sctnt III. 
 
 ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL. 
 
 235 
 
 Laf. I'd give bay Curtal, 1 and his furniture, 
 My mouth no more were broken than these boys', 
 And wit as little beard. 
 
 King. Peruse them well : 
 
 Not one of those, but had a noble father. 
 
 Hel. Gentlemen, 
 
 Heaven hath, through me, restord the king to 
 health. 
 
 f ill. We understand it, and thank heaven for you. 
 
 Hd. I am a simple maid ; and therein wealthiest, 
 
 That, I protest, I simply am a maid : 
 
 Please it your majesty, I have done already : 
 The blushes in my cheeks thus whisper me, 
 We blush, that thou sliouid'st choose ; but, be 
 
 refits' d, 
 
 Let the tchite death sit on thy cheek for ever; 
 We U ne'er come there again. 
 
 King. 
 
 Make choice ; and, see, 
 
 Who shuns thv love, shuns all his love in me. 
 
 Hel. Now, Dian, from thy altar do I fly ; 
 And to Imperial Love, that pod most high, 
 Do my sighs stream. Sir, will you hear my suit ? 
 
 1 Lord. And grant it. 
 
 Hel. Thanks, sir ; all the rest is mute.'- 
 
 Laf. I had rather be in this choice, than throw 
 ames-ace j for my life. 
 
 Hel. The honour, sir, that flames in your fair eyes, 
 Before I speak, too threateningly replies : 
 Love make your fortunes twenty times above 
 Her that so wishes, and her humble love ! 
 
 2 Lord. No better, if you please. 
 
 Hel. My wish receive, 
 
 Which creat love grant ! and so I take my leave. 
 
 Laf. Do all they deny her ? An they were sons 
 of mine, I'd have them whipped ; or I would send 
 them to the Turk, to make eunuchs of. 
 
 Hel. Be not afraid [To a Lord.] that I your hand 
 
 should take ; 
 
 I'll never do you wrong for your own sake : 
 Blessing upon your vows ! and in your bed 
 Find fairer fortune, if you ever wed ! 
 
 Laf. These boys are boys of ice, they'll none 
 have her: sure, they are bastards to the English ; 
 the French ne'er got them. 
 
 Hel. You are too young, too Ivippy, and too good, 
 To make yourself a son but of my blood. 
 
 4 Lorrf.'Fair one, I think not so. 
 
 Laf. There's one grape yet, I am sure, thy 
 father drank wine. But if thou be'st not an ass. 
 I am a youth of fourteen ; I have known thee 
 
 A poor physician's daughter my wife .'Disdain 
 Rather corrupt me ever ! 
 
 King. 'Tis only title* thou dfedain'st in her, the 
 
 which 
 
 I can build up. Strange is it, that our bloods, 
 Of colour, weight, and heat, pour'd all together, 
 Would quite confound distinction, yet stand off 
 In differences so mighty : if she be 
 All that is virtuous, (save what thou dislik'st, 
 A poor physician's daughter,) thou dislik'st 
 Of virtue for the name : but do not so : 
 From lowest place when virtuous things proceed, 
 The place is dignified by the doer's deed : 
 Where great additions swell, 5 and virtue none, 
 It is a dropsied honour : good alone 
 Is good, without a name ; vileness is so : 
 The property by what it is should go, 
 Not by the title. She is young, wise, fair ; 
 In these to nature she's immediate heir ; 
 And these breed honour : that is honour's scorn, 
 Which challenges itself as honour's born, 
 And is not like the sire : Honours best thrive, 
 When rather from our acts we them derive 
 Than our fore-goers : the mere word's a slave, 
 Debauch'd on every tomb ; on every grave, 
 A lying trophy, and as oft is dumb, 
 Where dust, and damned oblivion, is the tomb 
 Of honour'd hones indeed. What should be said ? 
 If thou canst like this creature as a maid, 
 I cnn create the rest : virtue and she, 
 Is her own dower ; honour, and wealth, from me. 
 
 Ber. I cannot love her, nor will strive to do't. 
 
 King. Thou wrongest thyself, if thou should'st 
 strive to choose. 
 
 Hel. That you are well restor'd, my lord, I am 
 
 glad ; 
 Let the rest go. 
 
 King. Mv honour's at the stake ; which to defeat, 
 I must produce my power : Here, take her hand. 
 Proud scornful boy, unworthy this good gift ; 
 That does in vile misprision shackle up 
 My love, and her desert ; that canst not dream, 
 \Vc, poising us in her defective scale, 
 Shall weigh thee to the beam : that wilt not know, 
 It is in us to plant thine honour, where 
 We please to have it grow : Check thy contempt : 
 Obey our will, which travails in thy good : 
 Believe not thy disdain, but presently 
 Do thine own fortunes that obedient right, 
 Which both thy duty owes, and our power claims ; 
 
 already. j Or I will throw thee from my care for ever, 
 
 Hel. I dare not say I take you ; [To Bertram.] Into tne staggers, and the careless lapse 
 
 Of youth and ignorance; both my revenge and hate, 
 Loosing upon thee in the name of justice, 
 Without all terms of pity : Speak ; thine answer. 
 
 Ber. Pardon, my gracious lord ; for I submit 
 i My fancy to your eyes : When I consider, 
 
 Ber. My wife, my liege ? I shall beseech your j What great creation, and what dole of honour, 
 hijrhness, [Flies where you bid it, I find that she, which late 
 
 Was in my nobler thoughts most base, is now 
 
 but I give 
 
 Me, and my service, ever whilst I live, 
 Into your sruiding power. This is the man. 
 King. Why then, young Bertram, take her, she's 
 
 thy wife. 
 
 In such a business give me leave to use 
 The help of mine own eves. 
 
 King. 
 
 What she has done for me ? 
 Ber. 
 
 Know'st thou not, Bertram, 
 
 Yes, my good lord ; 
 
 The praised of the king ; who, so ennobled, 
 Is, as 'twere, born so. 
 
 Take her by the hand, 
 And tell her, she is thine : to whom I promise 
 
 But never hope to know why I should marry her. I A counterpoise ; if not to thy estate, 
 King. Thou know'st, she has rais'd me from A balance more replete. 
 
 my sickly bed. 
 Ber. But follows it, my lord, to bring me down. 
 
 Must answer for your raising ? I knew her well ; 
 She had her breeding at my father's charge : 
 
 (1) A docked horse. 
 
 (2) ;. e. I have no more to say to you. 
 
 (3) The lowest chance of the dice. 
 
 Ber. I take her hand. 
 
 King. Good fortune, and the favour of the king. 
 
 Smile upon this contract : whose ceremony- 
 Shall seem expedient on the now-born brief, 
 
 (4) t. e. The want of title. (5) Titles. 
 (6) Good is good independent of any worldly 
 distinction, and so is vileness vile.
 
 236 
 
 ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL. 
 
 Act II. 
 
 And be perfoi rn'd to-night : the solemn feast 
 Shall more attend upon the coming space, 
 Expecting absent friends. As thou lov'st her, 
 Thy love's to me religious ; else, does err. 
 
 [Exeunt Kino 1 , Bertram, Helena, Lords, ana 
 attendants. 
 
 Laf. Do you hear, monsieur ? a word with you. 
 
 Par. Your pleasure, sir '/ 
 
 Laf. Your lord ana master did well to make his 
 recantation. 
 
 Par. Recantation ? My lord ? my master ? 
 
 Laf. Ay ; Is it not a language, I speak ? 
 
 Par. A most harsh one ; and not to be under- 
 stood without bloody succeeding. My master ? 
 
 Laf. Are you companion to the count Rousillon ? 
 
 Par. To any count ; to all counts ; to what is 
 man. 
 
 Laf. To what is count's man ; count's master is 
 of another style. 
 
 Par. You are too old, sir ; let it satisfy you, you 
 arc too old. 
 
 Laf. I must tell thee, sirrah, I write man ; to 
 which title age cannot brinjr thee. 
 
 Par. What I dare too well do, I dare not do. 
 
 La/. I did think thee, for two ordinaries, 1 to be 
 a pretty wise fellow ; thou didst make tolerable 
 rent of thy travel ; it might pass : yet the scarfs, 
 and the bannerets. abHut thee. did manifoldly dis- 
 suade me from believing thee a vessel of too great 
 a burden. I have now found thee ; when I lose 
 thee again, I care not : yet art thou good for no- 
 thing but taking up ; and that thou art scarce worth. 
 
 Par. Hadst thou not the privilege of antiquity 
 upon thee, 
 
 Laf. Do not plunge thyself too far in anger, lest 
 thou hasten thy trial ; which if Lord have mercy 
 on thee for a hen ! So, my good window of lattice, 
 fare thee well ; thy casement I need not open, for 
 I look through thee. Give me thy hand. 
 
 Par. My lord, you give me most egregious in- 
 dignity. 
 
 Laf. Ay, with all my heart ; and thou art worthy 
 of it. 
 
 Par. I have not, my lord, deserved it. 
 
 Laf. Yes, pood faith, every dram of it ; and I 
 will not bate then a scruple. 
 
 Par. Well, I shall be wiser. 
 
 Laf. E'en as soon as thou canst, for thou hast to 
 pull at a smack o' the contrary. If ever thou be'st 
 bound in thy scarf, and beaten, thou shall find what 
 it is to be proud of thy bondage. I have a desire 
 to hold my acquaintance with thee, or rather my 
 knowledge ; that I may say, in the default, 2 he is a 
 man I know. 
 
 Par. My lord, you do me most insupportable 
 Texation. 
 
 Laf. I would it were hell-pains for thy sake, and 
 my poor doing eternal : for doing I am past ; as I 
 will by thee, in what motion age will give me leave 
 
 [Exit. 
 
 Par. Well, thou hast a son shall take this dis- 
 grace off me ; scurvy, old, filthy, scurvy lord ! 
 Well, I must be patient ; there is no fettering of 
 authority. I'll beat him, by my life, if I can meet 
 him with any convenience, an he were double and 
 double a lord. I'll have no more pity of his ace, 
 than I would have of I'll beat him, an if I could 
 but meet him again. 
 
 Re-enter Lafeu. 
 Laf. Sirrah, your lord and master's married, 
 
 (1) . e. While I sat twice with thee at dinner 
 
 (2) At a need, 
 
 there's news for you j you have a new mistress. 
 
 Par. I most unfeignedly beseech your lordship 
 to make some reservation of your wrongs : He is 
 my good lord : whom I serve above, is my master. 
 
 Laf. Who ? God ? 
 
 Par. Ay, sir. 
 
 Laf. The devil it is, that's thy master. Why 
 dost thou garter up thy arms o' this fashion ? dost 
 make hose of thy sleeves? do other servants so? 
 Thou wert best set thy lower part where thy nose 
 stands. By mine honour, if I were but two hours 
 younger, I'd beat thee : methinks, thou art a gene- 
 ral offence, and every man should beat thee. I 
 think, thou wast created for men to breath 1 them- 
 selves upn thee. 
 
 Par. This is hard and undeserved measure, my 
 lord. 
 
 Laf. Go to, sir ; you were beaten in Italy for 
 picking a kernel out of a pomegrante ; you are a 
 vagabond, and no true traveller : you are more 
 saucy with lords, and honourable personages, than 
 the heraldry of your birth and virtue gives you 
 commission. You are not worth another word, else 
 I'd call you knave. I leave you. [Exit. 
 
 Enter Bertram. 
 
 Pr. Good, very good ; it is so then. Good, 
 very good ; let it be concealed a while. 
 
 Her. Undone, and forfeited to cares for ever ! 
 
 Par. What is the matter, sweet heart ? 
 
 Ber. Although before the solemn priest I have 
 
 sworn, 
 I will not bed her. 
 
 Par. What ? what, sweet heart ? 
 
 Ber. O my Parolles, they have married me : 
 I'll to the Tuscan wars, and never bed her. 
 
 Par. France is a dog-hole, and it no more merits 
 The tread of a man's foot : to the wars ! 
 
 Ber. There's jetters from my mother ; what the 
 
 import is, 
 I know not yet. 
 
 Par. Ay, that would be known : To the wars, 
 
 my boy, to the wars ! 
 He wears his Honour in a box unseen, 
 That hugs his kicksy-wicksy 4 here at home ; 
 Spending his manly marrow in her arms, 
 Which should sustain the bound and high curvet 
 Of Mare's fiery steed : To other regions ! 
 France is a stable ; we that dwell in't, jades ; 
 Therefore, to the war! 
 
 Ber. It shall be so ; I'll send her to my house, 
 Acquaint my mother with my hate to her, 
 And wherefore I am fled ; write to the king 
 That which I durst not speak : His present gift 
 Shall furnish me to these Italian fields, 
 Where noble fellows strike : War is no strife 
 To the dark house, 5 and the detested wife. 
 
 Pnr. Will this capricio hold in thee, art sure ? 
 
 Ber. Go with me to my chamber, and advise me. 
 I'll send her straight away : To-morrow 
 I'll to the wars, she to her single sorrow. 
 
 Par. Whv, these balls bound : there's noise in it. 
 
 'Tis hard ; 
 
 A young man, married, is a man that's marr'd : 
 Therefore away, and leave her bravely ; go : 
 The king has done you wrong ; but, hush ! 'tis so. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 SCE.VE IV.Tht same. Another room in the 
 same. Enter Helena and Clown. 
 
 Hel. My mother greets me kindly : Is she well ? 
 
 Clo. She is not well ; but yet she has her health ; 
 
 (3) Exercise. (4) A cant term for a wife. 
 
 (5) The house made gloomy by discontent.
 
 Scent V. 
 
 ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL. 
 
 23? 
 
 she's very merry ; but yet she is not well : but 
 thanks be given, she's very well, and wants nothing 
 i' the world ; but yet she is not well. 
 Hel. If she be very well, what does she ail, that 
 
 Ber. I do as?ure you, my lord, he is very great 
 in knowledge, and accordingly valiant. 
 
 Laf. I have then sinned against his experience, 
 and transgressed against his valour ; and mv state 
 
 A 1 A. ' .1 -___ W '. *. . 
 
 she's not very well?" that way is dangerous, since I cannot yet i'md in 
 
 Clo. Truly, she's very well, indeed, but for two i my heart to repent. Here he comes ; I pray you, 
 things. make us friends. I will pursue the amity. 
 
 Hel. What two things ? 
 
 Clo. One, that she's'not in heaven, whither God 
 send her quickly ! the other, that she's in earth, 
 from whence God send her quickly ! 
 Enter Parolles. 
 
 Par. Bless you, my fortunate lady ! 
 
 Hel. I hope, sir, I have your good will to have 
 mine own good fortunes. 
 
 Par. You had my prayers to lead them on : and 
 to keep them on, liave them still. O, my knave ! 
 How does my old lady ? 
 
 Clo. So that you had her wrinkles, and I her 
 money, I would she did as you say. 
 
 Par. Why, I say nothing. 
 Clo. Marry, you are the wiser man ; for many 
 a man's tongue shakes out his master's undom? : 
 To say nothing, to dp nothing, to know nothing-, 
 and to have nothing, is to be a great part of your 
 title ; which is within a very little of nothing 1 . 
 
 Par. Away, thou art a knave. 
 
 Clo. You should have said, sir, before a knave 
 thou art a knave; that is, before me thou art a 
 knave : this had been truth, sir. 
 
 Par. Go to, thou art a witty fool, I have found thee. 
 
 Clo. Did you find me in yourself, sir ? or were 
 you taught to find me ? The search, sir, was profit- 
 able ; and much fool may you find in you, even to 
 the world's pleasure, and tne increase of laughter. \ 
 
 Par. A good knave, i'faith, and well fed. 
 Madam, my lord will go away to-night ; 
 A very serious business calls on him. 
 The great prerogative and rite of love, 
 Which, as your due, time claims, he does acknow- 
 ledge ; 
 
 But puts it oS'by a compell'd restraint ; 
 Whose want, and whose delay, is strewed with 
 
 sweets, 
 
 Which they distil now in the curbed time, 
 To make the coming hour o'crflow iviih joy, 
 And pleasure drown the brim. 
 
 Hel. What's his will else ? 
 
 Par. That you will take your instant leave o' 
 
 the king, 
 
 And make this haste as your own ?ood proceeding, 
 Strengthen'd with that apology you think 
 May make it probable need. 1 
 
 Hel. What more commands he ? 
 
 Par. That, having this obtain'd, you presently 
 Attend his further pleasure. 
 
 Hel. In every thing I wait upon his will. 
 
 Par. I shall report it so. 
 
 Hel. I pray you. Come, sirrah. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE V. Another room in the same. Enter 
 Lafeu and Bertram. 
 
 Laf. But, I hope, your lordship thinks not him a 
 
 soldier. 
 
 Ber. Yes, my lord, and of very valiant approof. 
 
 Laf. You have it from his own deliverance. 
 
 Ber. And by other warranted testimony. 
 
 Laf. Then my dial goes not true ; I took this 
 lark for a bunting. 2 
 
 0) A specious appearance of necessity. 
 
 (2j The bunting nearly resembles the sky-lark j 
 
 Enter Parolles. 
 
 Par. These tilings shall be done, sir. 
 
 [To Bertram. 
 
 Laf. Pray you, sir, who's his tailor ? 
 Par. Sir? 
 
 Laf. O. I know him well : Ay, sir ; he, sir, is a 
 good workman, a very good tailor. 
 Ber. Is she gone to the king ? [Aside to Parolles. 
 Par. She is. 
 
 Ber. Will she away to-night ? 
 Par. As you'll have her. 
 
 Ber. I have writ my letters, casketted my trea- 
 sure, 
 
 Given order for our horses ; and to-night, 
 When I should take possession of the bride, 
 
 And, ere I do begin, 
 
 Laf. A good traveller is something at the lat- 
 ter end of a dinner ; but one that lies three thirds, 
 and uses a known truth to pass a thousand nothings 
 with, should be once heard, and thrice beaten. 
 God save you, captain. 
 
 Ber. Is there any unkindness between my lord 
 nd you, monsieur / 
 
 Par. I know not how I have deservea iu ii:n 
 into my lord's displeasure. 
 
 Laf. You have made shift to run into't, boots 
 and spurs, and ail, like him that leap'd into the 
 custard ; and out of it you'll run again, rather 
 than suffer question for your residence. 
 Ber. It may be, you Have mistaken him, my lord. 
 _/. And shall do so ever, though I took him at 
 his prayers. Fare you well, my lord ; and believe 
 this of me, There can be no kernel in this light 
 nut; the soul of this man is his clothes: trust him 
 not in matter of heavy consequence ; I have kept 
 of them tame, and know their natures. Farewell, 
 monsieur : I have spoken better of you, than you 
 have or will deserve at my ham! ; but we must do 
 good against evil. [Exit. 
 
 Par. r An idle Icrd, I swear. 
 Ber. I think so. 
 
 Par. Why, do you not know him ? 
 Btr. Yes, I do know him well ; and common 
 
 speech 
 Gives him a worthy pass. Here comes my clog. 
 
 Enter Helena. 
 
 Hel. I have, sir, as I was commanded from you, 
 Spoke with the king, and have procur'd his lea've 
 For present parting ; only, he desires 
 
 Some private speech with you. 
 
 Ber. 
 
 I shall obey his will. 
 
 You must not marvel, Helen, at my course, 
 Which holds not colour with the time, nor does 
 The ministration and required office 
 On my particular: prepar'd I was not 
 For such a business ; thcrofore am I found 
 
 So much unsettled : This drives me to entreat you, 
 That presently you take your way for home ; 
 And rather muse, 3 than ask, why I entreat you : 
 For my respects are better than "they seem ; 
 And my appointments have in them a need, 
 
 but has little or no song, which gives estimation tq 
 the sky-lark. 
 
 (3) Wonder.
 
 ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL. 
 
 Act 111 
 
 Greater than shows itself, at the first view, 
 To you that know them not. This to my mother : 
 [Giving a letter. 
 
 Twill be two days ere I shall see you ; so 
 I leave you to your wisdom. 
 
 Hel. Sir, I can nothing say, 
 
 But that I am your most obedient servant. 
 
 Ber. Come, come, no more of that. 
 
 Hel. And ever shall 
 
 With true observance seek to eke out that, 
 Wherein toward me my homely stars have fail'd 
 To equal my great fortune. 
 
 Ber. Let that go : 
 
 My haste is very great : Farewell ; hie home. 
 
 Hel. Pray, sir, your pardon. 
 
 Ber. A Veil, what would you say? 
 
 Hel. I am not worthy of the wealth I owe ;' 
 Nor dare I say, 'tis mine ; and yet it is ; 
 But, like a timorous thief, most fain would steal 
 What law does vouch mine own. 
 
 Ber. What would you have ? 
 
 Hel. Something ; and scarce so much : nothing-, 
 
 indeed. 
 I would not tell you what I would : my lord 'faith, 
 
 yes; 
 Strangers, and foes, do sunder, and not kiss. 
 
 Ber. I pray you, stay not, but in haste to horse. 
 
 Hel. I sha'll not break your bidding, good my 
 lord. 
 
 Ber. Where are my other men, monsieur? 
 Farewell. [Exit Helena. 
 
 Go thou toward home ; where I will never come, 
 VVhilt I can shake my sword, or hear the drum : 
 Away, and for our flight. 
 
 Par. Bravely, coragio ! [Exe. 
 
 ACT III. 
 
 SCENE /.Florence. Jl room in tht Duke's 
 Palace. Flourish. Enter the Duke of Florence, 
 attended; two French Lords, and others. 
 
 Duke. So that, from point to point, now have 
 
 you heard 
 
 The fundamental reasons of this war ; 
 Whose great decision hath much blood let forth, 
 And more thirsts after. 
 
 1 Lord. Holy seems the quarrel 
 Upon your grace's part ; black and fearful 
 
 On the opposer. 
 Duke. Therefore we marvel much, our cousin 
 
 France 
 
 Would, in so just a business, shut his bosom 
 Against our borrowing prayers. 
 
 2 Lord. Good my lord, 
 The reasons of our state I cannot yield, 4 
 
 But like a common and un outward man, 3 
 That the great figure of a council frames 
 By self-unable motion : therefore dare not 
 Say what I think of it ; since I have found 
 Myself in mv uncertain grounds to fail 
 As often as I guess'd. 
 
 Duke. Be it his pleasure. 
 
 2 Lord. But I am sure, the younger of our na- 
 ture,* 
 
 That surfeit on their ease, will, day by day, 
 Come here for physic. 
 
 Duke. Welcome shall they be ; 
 
 (4 
 
 Possess. 
 
 t. e. I cannot inform you of the reasons. 
 
 One not in the secret of affairs. 
 
 As we say at present, our young fellows, 
 
 And all the honours, that can fly from us, 
 Shall on them settle. You know your places well ; 
 When better fall, for your avails they fell : 
 To-morrow to the field. [Flovrith. Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE //. Rousillon. Jl room in the Countess's 
 Palace. Enter Countess and Clown. 
 
 Count. It hath happened all as I would have 
 lad it, save, that he comes not along witli her. 
 
 Clo. By my troth, I take my young lord to be a 
 very melancholy man. 
 
 Count. By what observance, I pray you? 
 
 Clo. Why, he will look upon his boot, and sing ; 
 mend the run, 5 and sing ; ask questions, and sing : 
 pick his teeth, and sing : I know a man that tad 
 this trick of melancholy, sold a goodly manor for 
 a song. 
 
 Count. Let me see what he writes, and when he 
 means to come. [Opening a letter. 
 
 Clo. I have no mind to Isbel, since I was at 
 court: our old ling, and our Isbels o' the country, 
 are nothing; like your old ling and your Isbels o' 
 the court : the brains of my cupid's knocked out ; 
 and I begin to love, as an old man loves money, 
 with no stomach. 
 
 Count. What have we here ? 
 
 Clo. E'en that you have there. [Exit. 
 
 Count. [Reads.] I have sent you a daughter-in- 
 law : she hath recovered the kins?, and undone me. 
 I have wedded her, not bedded her ; and sworn to 
 make the not eternal. You shall hear, I am run 
 away; know it, before the report come. If there 
 be breadth enough in the world, I will hold a long 
 distance. Jrly duty to you. 
 
 'Your unfortunate son, 
 
 BERTRAM. 
 This is not well, rash and unbridled boy, 
 To fly the favours cf so good a king ; 
 To pluck his indignation on thy head, 
 By the misprizing of a maid too virtuous 
 For the contempt of empire. 
 
 Re-enter Clown. 
 
 Clo. madam, yonder is heavy news within, 
 between two soldiers and my young lady. 
 
 Count. What is the matter ? 
 
 Clo. Nay, there is some comfort in the news, 
 some comfort ; your son will not be killed so soon 
 as I thought he would. 
 
 Count. Why should he be kill'd ? 
 
 Clo. So say I, madam, if he run away, as I hear 
 he does : the danger is in standing to't '; that's the 
 loss of men, though it be the getting of children. 
 Here they come, will tell you more : for my part, I 
 only hear, your son was run a way. [xif Cfowo. 
 Enter Helena and two Gentlemen. 
 
 1 Gent. Save you, good madam. 
 
 Hel. Madam, jny lord is gone, for ever gone. 
 
 2 Gent. Do not say so. 
 
 Count. Think upon patience. 'Pray you, gen- 
 tlemen, 
 
 I have felt so many quirks of joy, and grief, 
 That the first face of neither, on the start, 
 Can woman 6 me unto't : Where is my son, I pray 
 
 you? 
 2 Gent. Madam, he's gone to serve the duke of 
 
 Florence : 
 
 We met him thitherward^ from thence we came, 
 And, after some despatch in hand at court, 
 
 (5) The folding at the top of the boot. 
 
 (6) i. e. Affect me suddenly and deeply, as our 
 sex are usually affected.
 
 ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL, 
 
 239 
 
 Thither we bend again. 
 
 Hel. Look on this letter, madam; here's my 
 passport. 
 
 [Reads.] When than canst get the ring upon my 
 finger, 1 which never shall come off, and shoio me 
 a cliild begotten of thy body, that I am father to, 
 then call me husband .- but in such a then / write 
 a never. 
 
 This is a dreadful sentence. 
 
 Count. Brought you this letter, gentlemen ? 
 
 1 Gent. Ay, madam ; 
 And, for the contents' sake, are sorrr for our pains. 
 
 Count. I pr'ythee, lady, have a better cheer ; 
 If thou engrosses! all the griefs are thine, 2 
 Thou robb'st me of a moiety : He was my son ; 
 But I do wash his name out of my blood, 
 And thou ark all my child. Towards Florence 
 is he? 
 
 2 Gent. Ay, madam. 
 
 Count. And to be a soldier ? 
 
 2 Gent. Such is his noble purpose: and, believe't, 
 The duke will lay upon him all the honour 
 That good convenience claims. 
 
 Count. Return you thither ? 
 
 1 Gent. Ay. madam, with the swiftest wing of 
 speea. 
 
 Hel. [Reads.] Till I have no wife, I have nothing 
 
 in France. 
 'Tis bitter. 
 
 Count. Find you that there ? 
 
 Hel. Ay, madam. 
 
 1 Gent. 'Tis but the boldness of his hand, haply, 
 
 which 
 His heart was not consenting to. 
 
 Count. Nothing in France, until he have no wife ! 
 There's nothing here that is too good for him, 
 But only she ; and she deserves a lord, 
 That twenty such rude boys might tend upon, 
 And call her hourly, mistress. Who was with him ? 
 
 1 Gent. A servant only, and a gentleman 
 Which I have some time known. 
 
 Count. Parolles, was't not ? 
 
 1 Gent. Ay, my good lady, he. 
 
 Count. A very tainted fellow, and full of wick- 
 edness. 
 
 My son corrupts a well-derived nature 
 With his inducement. 
 
 1 Gent. Indeed, good lady, 
 The fellow has a deal of that, too much,. 
 Which holds him much to have. 
 
 Count. You are welcome, gentlemen. 
 I will entreat you, when you see my son, 
 To tell him, that his sword can never win 
 The honour that he loses : more I'll entreat you 
 Written to bear along. 
 
 2 Gent. We serve you, madam, 
 In that and all your worthiest affairs. 
 
 Count. Not so, but as we change our courtesies. 3 
 Will you draw near ? 
 
 [Exeunt Countess and Gentlemen. 
 
 Hel. Till I have no wife, I have nothing in 
 
 France. 
 
 Nothing in France, until he has no wife ! 
 Thou shall have none, Rousillon, none in France, 
 Then hast thou all again. Poor lord ! is't I 
 That chase thee from thy country, and expose 
 Those tender limbs of thine to the event 
 Of the none-sparing war ? and is it I 
 
 (1) t. e. When you can get the ring, which is on 
 my finger, into your possession. 
 
 (2 If thou keepest all thy sorrows to thyself. 
 In reply to the gentlemen's declaration, that 
 
 That drive thee from the sportive couvt, where thou 
 
 Wast shot at with fair eyes, to be the mark 
 
 Of smoky muskets ? O you leaden messengers, 
 
 That ride upon the violent speed of fire, 
 
 Fly with false aim ; move the still- piercing air, 
 
 That sings with piercing, do not touch my lord ! 
 
 Whoever shoots at him, I set him there ; 
 
 Whoever charges on his forward breast, 
 
 I am the caitiff, that do hold him to it ; 
 
 And, though I kill him not, I am the cause 
 
 His death ~was so effected,: better 'twere, 
 
 I met the ravin 4 lion when he roar'd 
 
 With sharp constraint of hunger ; better 'twere 
 
 That all the miseries which nature owes. 
 
 Were mine at once : no, come thou home, Rousillon, 
 
 Whence honour but of danger wins a scar, 
 
 As oft it loses all ; I will be gone : 
 
 My being here it is, that holds thee hence : 
 
 Shall I stay here to do't ? no, no, although 
 
 The air of Paradise did fan the house, 
 
 And angels offic'd all : I will be gone ; 
 
 That pitiful rumour may report my flight, 
 
 To consolate thine ear. Come, night ; end, day ! 
 
 For, with the dark, poor thief, I'll steal away. 
 
 iExit. 
 
 SCENE HI. Florence. Before the Duke's Pa 
 lace. Flmirish. Enter the Ditke of Florence, 
 Bertram, Lords, Officers, Soldiers, and others. 
 
 Duke. The general of our horse thou art ; and we, 
 Great in our hope, lay our best love and credence, 
 Upon thy promising fortune. 
 
 Ber. Sir, it is 
 
 A charge too heavy for my strength ; but yet 
 We'll strive to bear it for your worthy sake, 
 To the extreme edge of hazard. 
 
 Duke. Then go thou forth; 
 
 And fortune play upon thy prosperous helm, 
 As thy auspicious mistress ! 
 
 Ber. This very day, 
 
 Great Mars, I put myself into thy file : 
 Make me but like my thoughts ; and I shall prove 
 A lover of thy drum, hater of love. [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE IV. Rousillon. Jl room in the Coun- 
 tess's Palace. Enter Countess and Steward. 
 
 Count. Alas ! and would you take the letter of 
 
 her? 
 
 Might you not know, she would do as she has done, 
 By sen'ding me a letter ? Read it again. 
 Stew. I am Saint Jaques' pilgrim, thither gone; 
 
 Ambitious lovr, hath so in me offended, 
 That bare-foot plod I the cold ground upon, 
 
 With sainted vow my faults to have amend'd. 
 Write, write, that, from the bloody course of tear. 
 
 My dearest master, your dear son may hie ; 
 Bless him at home in peace, whilst I from fan 
 
 His name with zealous fervour sanctify : 
 His taken labours bid him me forgive; 
 
 I, his despiteful Juno,'' ?j*nt' him forth 
 From courtly friends, with camping foes to live, 
 
 Where death and danger dog the heels of worth : 
 He is too good and fair for death and me ; 
 Whom I myself embrace, to set him free. 
 
 Count. Ah, what sharp stings are in her mildest 
 
 words ! 
 Rinaldo, you did never lack advice 6 so much, 
 
 otherwise than as she returns the lame offices of 
 civility. 
 
 4} Ravenous. 
 
 5) Alluding to the story of Herculc*, 
 
 6) Discretion or thought.
 
 240 
 
 ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL. 
 
 Ail III. 
 
 As letting her pass so ; had I spoke with her, 
 I could have well diverted her intents, 
 Which thus she hath prevented. 
 
 Steio. Pardon me, madam : 
 
 If I had given you this at over-night, 
 She might have been o'ertaken ; and yet she writes, 
 Pursuit would be in vain. 
 
 Count. What angels shall 
 
 Bless this unworthy husband? he cannot thrive, 
 Unless her prayers, whom Heaven delights to hear, 
 And loves to grant^reprieve him from the wrath 
 Of greatest justice. Write, write, Rinaldo, 
 To this unworthy husband of his wife ; 
 Let every word weigh heavy of her worth, 
 That he does weigh 1 too light : my greatest grief, 
 Though little he do feel it, set down sharply. 
 Despatch the most convenient messenger : 
 When, haply, he shall hear that she is gone, 
 He will return ; and hope I may, that she. 
 Hearing so much, will speed her foot again, 
 Led hither by pure love : which of them both, 
 Is dearest to me, I have no skill in sense 
 To make distinction: Provide this messenger: 
 My heart is heavy, and mine age is weak ; 
 Grief wpuld have tears, and sorrow bids me speak. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 SCE.VE V. Without the iralls of Florence. A 
 tucket afar off. Enter an old Widow of Flo- 
 rence, Diana, Violenta, Mariana, and other citi- 
 zens. 
 
 Wid. Nay, come; for if they do approach the 
 citv, we shall lose all the sight. 
 
 Dia. They say, the French count hns done most 
 honourable service. 
 
 Wid. It is reported, that he has taken their 
 greatest commander; and that with his own hand 
 he slew the duke's brother. We have lost our la- 
 bour ; they are gone a contrary way : hark ! you 
 may know by their trumpets. 
 
 Juar. Come, let's return acrain, and suffice our- 
 selves with the report of it. Well, Diana, take heed 
 of this French earl : the honour of a maid is her 
 name ; and no legacy is so rich as honesty. 
 
 Wid. I have told "my neighbour, how you have 
 been solicited by a gentleman, his companion. 
 
 Jtfar. I know that knave ; hang him ! one Pa- 
 rolles : a filthy officer he is in those suggestions 2 
 for the young earl. Beware of them, Diana ; their 
 promises, enticements, oaths, tokens, and all these 
 engines of lust, are not the things they go under :' 
 many a maid hath been seduced by them; and 
 the misery is, example, that so terrible shows in 
 the wreck of maidenhood, cannot for all that dis- 
 suade succession, but that they are limed with the 
 twigs that threaten them. I nope, I need not to 
 advise you further; but I hope your o-vn grace 
 will keep you where you are, though there were 
 no further danger known, but the modesty which 
 is so lost. 
 
 Dia. You shall not need to fear me. 
 
 Enter Helena, in the dress of a. pilgrim. 
 
 Wid. I hope so. Look, here comes a pil- 
 grim: I know she will lie at my house: thither 
 they send one another : I'll question her. 
 God save you, pilgrim ! Whither are you bound ? 
 
 Hel. To Saint Jaques le grand. 
 Where do the palmers* lodge, I do beseech you ? 
 
 (1) Weigh, here means to value or esteem. 
 
 (2) Temptations. 
 
 (3J They are not the things for which their names 
 would make them pass. 
 
 Wid. At the Saint Francis here, beside the port. 
 
 Hel. Is this the way ? 
 
 Wid. Ay, marry, is it. Hark you ! 
 
 [Jl march afar off". 
 
 They come this way : If you will tarry, holy pil- 
 grim, 
 
 But till the troops come by, 
 I will conduct you where you shall be lodg'd ; 
 The rather, for, I think, I know your hostess, 
 As ample as myself. 
 
 Hel. Is it yourself? 
 
 Wid. If you shall please so, pilgrim. 
 
 H el. I thank you, and will stay upon your leisure. 
 
 W id. You came, I think, from France ? 
 
 Hel. I did so. 
 
 Wid. Here you shall see a countryman of yours, 
 That has done worthy service. 
 
 Hel. His name, I pray you ? 
 
 Dia. ThecountRousillon: Know you such a one? 
 
 Hel. But by the ear, that hears most nobly of him: 
 His face I know not. 
 
 Dia. Whatsoe'er he is, 
 
 He's bravely taken here. He stole from France, 
 As 'tis reported, for* the king had married him 
 Against his liking : Think you it is so? 
 
 Hel. Ay, surely, mere the truth ; c I know his 
 lady. 
 
 Dia. There is a gentleman that serves the count, 
 Reports but coarsely of her. 
 
 Hel. What's his name? 
 
 Dia. Monsieur Parolles. 
 
 Hel. O, I believe with him, 
 
 In argument of praise, or to the worth 
 Of the great count faimself, she is too mean 
 To have her name repeated ; all her deserving 
 Is a reserved honesty, and that 
 I have not heard cxamin'd. 
 
 Dia. Alas, poor lady ! 
 
 'Tis a hard bondage, to become the wife 
 Of a detesting lord. 
 
 Wid. A right good creature : wheresoe'er she is, 
 Her heart weighs sadly: this young maid might do 
 
 her 
 A shrewd turn, if she pleas'd. 
 
 lid. How do you mean ? 
 
 May be, the amorous count solicits 1 her 
 In the unlawful purpose. 
 
 Wid. He does, indeed ; 
 
 And brokes* with all that can in such a suit 
 Corrupt the tender honour of a maid : 
 But she is arm'd for him, and keeps her guard 
 In honcstest defence. 
 
 Enter icith drum anil colours, a parly of the Flo- 
 rentine army, Bertram, and Parolles. 
 
 Mar. The gods forbid else ! 
 
 Wid. So, now they come : 
 
 That is Antonio, the duke's eldest son ; 
 Thnt, Escalus. 
 
 Hel. Which Ls the Frenchman ? 
 
 Dia. He ; 
 
 That with the plume : 'tis a most gallant fellow ; 
 [ would, he lov'd his wife : if he were honester, 
 He were much goodlier : Is't not a handsome 
 gentleman ? 
 
 JIcl. I like him well. 
 
 Dia. 'Tis pity he is not honest : Yond's that same 
 
 knave, 
 That leads him to these places ; were I his lady, 
 
 (4) Pilgrims ; so called from a staff or bough of 
 palm they were wont to carry. 
 
 (5) Because. (6) The exact, the entire truth. 
 (7) Deals with panders.
 
 Seen* VI. 
 
 ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL. 
 
 241 
 
 I'd poison that vile rascal. 
 Hel. Which is he? 
 
 Dia. That Jackanapes with scarfs : Why is he 
 
 melancholy ? 
 
 Hel. Perchance he's hurt i' the battle. 
 Par. Lose our drum ! well. 
 Mar. He's shrewdly vex'd at something : Look, 
 
 the humour of his design; let him fetch off his 
 drum in any hand. 
 
 Ber. How now, monsieur? this drum sticks 
 sorely in your disposition. 
 
 2 Lord. A pox on't, let it go ; 'tis but a drum. 
 
 Par. But a drum ! Is't but a drum ? A drum so 
 lost ? There was an excellent command ! to 
 charge in with our horse upon our own wings, and 
 to rend our own soldiers. 
 
 2 Lord. That was not to be blamed in the corn- 
 
 he has spied us. 
 
 Wid. Marry, hang you ! 
 
 Mar. And your courtesy, for a ring-carrier ! 
 
 [Exeunt Bertram, Parolles, officers, and mand of the service ; it was a disaster of war that 
 soldiers. Caesar himself could not have prevented, if he had 
 
 Wid. The troop is past: Come, pilgrim, I will been there to command. 
 
 bring you 
 
 Where you shall host : of enjoin'd penitents 
 There's four or five, to great Saint Jaques bound, 
 Already at my house. 
 
 Hel. I humbly thank you : 
 
 Pleaie it this matron, and this gentle maid, 
 To eat with us to-night, the charge, and thanking, 
 Shall be for me ; and, to requite you further, 
 I will bestow some precepts on this virgin, 
 Worthy the note. 
 
 Both. We'll take your offer kindly. [Exe. 
 
 Ber. Well, we cannot greatly condemn our suc- 
 
 ss : some dishonour we had in the loss of that 
 drum ; but it is not to be recovered. 
 
 Par. It might have been recovered. 
 
 Ber. It might, but it is not now. 
 
 Par. It is to be recovered : but that the merit of 
 service is seldom attributed to the true and exact 
 performer, I would have that drum or another, or 
 liicjacet. 3 
 
 Her. Why, if you have a stomach to't, monsieur 
 if you think your mystery in stratagem can bring 
 
 SCENE VI. Camp before Florence. 
 Bertram, and the two French Lords. 
 
 1 Lord. Nay, good my lord, put him to't ; let 
 him have his way. 
 
 2 Lord. If your lordship find him not a balding,' 
 hold me no more in your respect. 
 
 1 Lord. On my life, my lord, a bubble. 
 
 Ber. Do you think I am so far deceived in him ? 
 
 1 Lord. Believe it, my lord, in mine own direct 
 knowledge, without any malice, but to speak of him 
 as my kinsman, he's a most notable coward, an in- 
 finite and endless liar, an hourly promise-breaker, 
 the owner of no one good quality worthy your lord- 
 ship's entertainment. 
 
 2 Lord. It were fit you knew him ; lest, reposing 
 too far in his virtue, which he hath not, he might, 
 at some great and trusty business, in a main dan- 
 ger, fail you. 
 
 Ber. I would I knew in what particular action 
 to try him. 
 
 2 Lord. None better than to let him fetch off his 
 drum, which you hear him so confidently undertake 
 to do. 
 
 1 Lord. I, with a troop of Florentines, will sud- 
 
 ,this instrument of honour again into his native 
 Enter quarter, be magnanimous in the enterprize, and go 
 on ; I will grace the attempt for a worthy exploit : 
 
 JL M-tVI U. *, mfcU H fcl \J\jy Wl J. 1 VI 1*111111^*3, IV 111 C UU- ' ' 
 
 denly surprise him ; such I will have, whom, I am belter be dainned than to do't. 
 sure, he knows not from the enemy : we will bind 
 and hood-wink him so, that he shall suppose no 
 other but that he is carried into the leaguer 2 of the 
 adversaries, when we bring- him to our tents : Be 
 but your lordship present at his examination ; if he 
 do not, for the promise of his life, and in the high- 
 est compulsion of base fear, offer to betray you, 
 
 and deliver all the intelligence in his power against self unto ? 
 
 you, and that with the divine forfeit of his souf upon 
 oath, never trust my judgment in any thing. 
 2 Lord. O, for the love of laughter, let him fetch j 
 
 f you speed well in it, the duke shall both speak 
 of "it, and extend to you what further becomes hia 
 Greatness, even to the utmost syllable of your wor- 
 hiness. 
 
 Par. By the hand of a soldier, I will undertake i:. 
 
 Ber. But you must not now slumber in it. 
 
 Par. I'll about it this evening : and I will pro 
 sently pen down my dilemmas,* encourage myself 
 n my certainty^ put myself into my mortal prepara- 
 ,ion, and, by midnight, look to hear further from me. 
 
 Ber. May I be bold to acquaint his grace, you 
 are gone about it ? 
 
 Par. I know not what the success will be, my 
 lord ; but the attempt I vow. 
 
 Ber. I know them art valiant ; and, to the possi 
 bility of thy soldiership, will subscribe for thee. 
 Farewell. 
 
 Par. I love not many words. [Exit. 
 
 1 Lord. No more than a fish loves water. Is not 
 this a strange fellow, my lord ? that so confidently 
 seems to undertake this business, which he knows 
 is not to be done ; damns himself to do, and dares 
 
 2 Lord. You do not know him. my lord, as we 
 do : certain it is, that he will steal himself into a 
 man's favour, and, for a week, escape a great deal 
 of discoveries ; but when you find him out, you 
 have him ever after. 
 
 Ber. Why, do you think he will make no deed 
 at all of this', that so seriously he does address him- 
 
 1 Lord. None in the world ; but return with an 
 invention, and clap upon you two or three proba 
 ble lies : but we have almost embossed him,* you 
 his drum ; he says he has a stratagem for't : when shall see his fall to-night ; for, indeed, he is not for 
 
 your lordship sees the bottom of his success in't, 
 and to what metal this counterfeit lump of ore will 
 be melted, if you give him not John Drum's enter- 
 tainment, your inclining cannot be removed. Here 
 he comes. 
 
 Enter Parolles. 
 1 Lord. O, for the love of laughter, hinder not 
 
 !1) A paltry fellow, a coward. (2) The camp. 
 S) I would, recover the lost drum or another, or 
 die ia the attempt. 
 
 your lordship's respect. 
 
 2 Lord. We'll make you some sport with the fox. 
 ere we case him. 6 He was first smoked by the old 
 lord Lafeu : when his disguise and he is parted, 
 tell me what a sprat you shall find him ; which you 
 shall see this very night. 
 
 1 Lord. I must go look my twigs ; he shall be 
 caught. 
 
 (4) I will pen down my plans, and the probable 
 obstructions. 
 
 (5) Hunted him down. (6) Strip him naked.
 
 249 
 
 Ser . Your brother, he shall go along with me. 
 
 1 Lord. As't please your lordship : I'll leave you. 
 
 [Exit. 
 Ber. Now will I lead you to the house, and show 
 
 you 
 The lass I spoke of. 
 
 2 Lord. But, you say, she's honest. 
 Ber. That's all the fault : I spoke with her but 
 
 once, 
 
 And found her wondrous cold ; but I sent to her, 
 By this same coxcomb that we have i' the wind, 
 Tokens and letters which she did re-send ; 
 And this is all I have done : She's a fair creature ; 
 Will you go see her? 
 
 2 Lord. With all my heart, my lord. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE VII. Florence. Jl Room in .the Widow's 
 
 house. Enter Helena and Widow. 
 Hel. If you misdoubt me that I am not she, 
 I know not how I shall assure you further, 
 But I shall lose the grounds I work upon. ' 
 
 W id. Though my estate be fallen, I was well 
 
 born, 
 
 Nothing acquainted with these businesses ; 
 And would not put my reputation now 
 In any staining act. 
 
 Hel. Nor, would I wish you. 
 
 First, give me trust, the count he is my husband ; 
 And, what to your sworn counsel I have spoken, 
 Is so, from word to word ; and then you cannot, 
 By the good aid that I of you shall borrow, 
 Err in bestowing it. 
 
 Wid. I should believe you ; 
 
 For you have show'd me that, which well approves 
 You are great in fortune. 
 
 Hel. " Take this purse of gold, 
 
 And let me buy your friendly help thus far, 
 Which I will over-pay, and pay again, 
 When I have found it. The count he woos your 
 
 daughter, 
 
 Lays down his wanton siege before her beauty, 
 Resolves to carry her ; let her, in fine, consent. 
 As we'll direct her how 'tis best to bear it, 
 Now his important 2 blood will nought deny 
 That she'll demand : A ring the county 3 wears, 
 That downward hath succeeded in his house, 
 From son to son, some four or five descents 
 Since the first father wore it : this ring he holds 
 In most rich choice ; yet, in his idle fire, 
 To buy his will, it would not seem too dear, 
 Howe'er repented after. 
 
 Wid. Now I see 
 
 The bottom of your purpose. 
 
 Hel. You see it lawful then : It is no more, 
 But that your daughter, ere she seems as won, 
 Desires this ring ; appoints him an encounter ; 
 In fine, delivers me to fill the time, 
 Herself most chastely absent : after this, 
 To marry her, I'll add three thousand crowns 
 To what is past already. 
 
 Wid. I have yielded : 
 
 Instruct my daughter how she shall pers^ver, 
 That time and place, with this deceit so lawful, 
 May prove coherent. Every night he comes 
 With musics of all sorts, and songs compos'd 
 To her unworthiness : It nothing steads us, 
 To chide him from our eaves ;* for he persists, 
 As if his life lay on't. 
 Hel. Why then, to-night 
 
 H) t. f. By discovering herself to the count. 
 (2) Importunate. (3) i. f . Count. 
 
 (4) From under our windows. 
 
 Ad tft 
 
 Let us assay our plot ; which, if it speed, 
 Is wicked meaning in a lawful deed, 
 And lawful meaning in a lawful act ; 
 Where both not sin, and yet a sinful fact : 
 
 But let's about it. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 ACT IV. 
 
 SCENE I. Without the Florentine camp. En- 
 ter first Lord, with five or six Soldiers in am- 
 bush. 
 
 1 Lord. He can come no other way but by this 
 ledge's corner : When you sally upon him, speak 
 what terrible language you will ; though you under- 
 stand it not yourselves, no matter : for we must not 
 seem to understand him ; unless some one among 
 us, whom we must produce for an interpreter. 
 1 Sold. Good captain, let me be the interpreter. 
 1 Lord. Art not acquainted with him ? knows he 
 not thy voice ? 
 
 1 Sold. No, sir, I warrant you. 
 1 Lord. But what linsy-woolsy hast thou to speak 
 ,o us atrain ? 
 
 1 Sold. Even such as you speak to me. 
 1 Lord. He must think us some band of stran- 
 gers i' the adversary's entertainment. 5 Now he hath 
 a. smack of all neighbouring languages ; therefore 
 we must every one be a man of his own fancy, not 
 .0 know what we speak one' to another ; so we 
 seem to know, is to know straight our purpose : 
 chough's 6 language, gabble enough, and good 
 enough. As for you, interpreter, you must seem 
 very politic. But couch, ho! here he comes; to 
 beguile two hours in a sleep, and then to return 
 id swear the lies he forges. 
 
 Enter Parolles. 
 
 Par. Ten o'clock: within these three hours 'twill 
 be time enough to go home. What shall I say I 
 have done ? It must be a very plausive invention 
 that carries it : They begin to smoke me ; and dis- 
 graces have of late knocked too often at my door. 
 I find my tongue is top fool-hardy ; but my heart 
 hath the fear of Mars before it, and of his crea- 
 tures, not daring the reports of my tongue. 
 
 1 Lord. This is the first truth that e'er thine own 
 tongue was guilty of. [Aside. 
 
 Par. What the devil should move me to under- 
 take the recovery of this drum ; beinpf not ignorant 
 of the impossibility, and knowing I had no such 
 purpose ? I must give myself some hurts, and say, 
 I got. them in exploit : Yet slight ones will not carry 
 it: They will say, Came you off" with so little? and 
 great ones I dare not give. Wherefore? what's 
 the instance?' Tongue, I must put you into a but- 
 ter-woman's mouth, and buy another of Bajazet's 
 mule, if you prattle me into these perils. 
 
 1 Lord.. Is it possible he should know what he is, 
 and be that he is ? [Aside. 
 
 Par. I would the cutting of my garments would 
 serve the turn ; or the breaking of my Spanish 
 sword. 
 
 1 'Lord. We cannot afford you so. [Aside. 
 
 Par. Or the baring of my beard ; and to say, it 
 was in stratagem. 
 
 1 Lord. 'Twould not do. [Aside. 
 
 Par. Or to drown my clothes, and say I was 
 stripped. 
 
 1 Lord. Hardly serve. [Aside, 
 
 5) t. e. Foreign troops in the enemy's pay. 
 "* A bird like a jack-daw, (7) the proof,
 
 Scfnt II. 
 
 ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL. 
 
 243 
 
 Par. Though I swore I leaped from the window 
 of the citadel 
 
 1 Lord. How deep ? [Aside. 
 
 Par. Thirty fathom. 
 
 1 Lord. Three great oaths would scarce make 
 that be believed. 
 
 Par. I would I had any drum of the enemy's ; 
 
 I would swear I recovered it. 
 1 Lord. You shall hear one anon. 
 Par. A drum now of the enemy's ! 
 
 [Aside. 
 
 [Jllarurn within. 
 
 1 Lord. Throcamovaitsiis, cargo, cargo, cargo. 
 
 All. Cargo, cargo, nlKanda par carbo, cargo. 
 
 Par. ! ransorne, ransome : Do not hide mine 
 eyes. [Titty seize him and blindfold him. 
 
 1 Sold. Boskos thromuldo boskos. 
 
 Par. I know you are the Muskos' regiment, 
 And I shall lose my life for want of language : 
 If there be here German, or Dane, low Dutch, 
 Italian, or French, let him speak to me, 
 I will discover that which shall undo 
 The Florentine. 
 
 1 Sold. Boskos vaurado : 
 
 I understand thee, and can speak thy tongue : 
 
 Kerelybonto : Sir, 
 
 Betake thee to thy faith, for seventeen poniards 
 Are at thy bosom. 
 
 Par. Oh ! 
 
 0, pray, pray, pray. 
 
 Oscorbi 'didchos volivorca. 
 
 1 Sold. 
 Manka revania ditlche. 
 
 1 Lord. 
 
 1 Sold. The general is content to spare thee yet ; 
 And, hood-wink'd as thou ari, will lead thee on 
 To gather from thee : haply, thou rnay'st inform 
 Something to save thy life. 
 
 Par. O, let roe live, 
 
 And all the secrets of our camp I'll show, 
 Their force, their purposes : nay, I'll speak that 
 Which you will wonder at. 
 
 1 Sold. But wilt thou faithfully ? 
 
 Par. If I do not, damn me. 
 
 1 Sold. Jcordo linta. 
 
 Come on, thou art granted space. 
 
 [Exit, with Parolles guarded. 
 
 1 Lord. Go, tell the count Rousillon, and my 
 
 brother, 
 We have caught the woodcock, and will keep him 
 
 Till we do hear from them. 
 2 Sold. Captain, I will. 
 
 1 Lord. He will betray us all unto ourselves ; 
 Inform 'em that 
 
 2 Sold. So I will, sir. 
 
 1 Lord. Till then, I'll keep him dark, and safely 
 lock'd. [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE //.Florence. .5 room in the Widow's 
 house. Enter Bertram and Diana. 
 
 Ber. They told me, that your na,me was Fon- 
 tibell. 
 
 Dia. No, my good lord, Diana. 
 
 Ber. Titled goddess ; 
 
 And worth it. with addition ! But, fair soul, 
 In your fine frame hath love no quality ? 
 If the quick fire of youth light not your mind, 
 You are no maiden, but a monume'nt : 
 When you are dead, you should be such a one 
 As you are now, for you are cold and stern ; 
 And now you should be as your mother was, 
 When your sweet self was got. 
 
 Dia. She then was honest. 
 
 Ber. 
 Dia. 
 
 So should you be. 
 
 No. 
 
 My mother did but duty ; such, my lord, 
 As- you owe to your wi(e. 
 
 er. No more of that ! 
 
 I pr'ythee, do not strive against my vows : ' 
 I was compell'd to her : but I love thee 
 By love's own sweet constraint, and will for ever 
 Do thee all rights of service. 
 
 _Dia. Ay, so you serve us, 
 
 Till we serve you : but when you have our roses, 
 You barely leave our thorns to prick ourselves, 
 And mock us with our bareness. 
 
 Be r. How have I sworn ? 
 
 Die. 'Tis not the many oaths that make the 
 
 truth ; 
 
 But the plain single vow, that is vow'd true. 
 What is not hoiy, that we swear not by, 
 But take the Highest to witness : 2 Then, pray you, 
 
 tell me, 
 
 If I should swear by Jove's great attributes, 
 I lov'd you dearly, would you believe my oaths, 
 When I did love you ill ? this has no holding, 
 To swear by him whom I protest to love, 
 That I will work against him : Therefore, your oaths 
 Are words, and poor conditions ; but unseal'd ; 
 At least, in my opinion. 
 
 Ber. Change it, change it ; 
 
 Be not so holy-cruel : love is holy ; 
 And my integrity ne'er knew the crafts, 
 That you do charge men with : Stand no more off, 
 But give thyself unto my sick desires, 
 Who then recover : Say, thou art mine, and ever 
 My love, as it begins, shall so perse"ver. 
 
 Dia. I see that men make hopes in such affairs, 
 That we'll forsake ourselves. Give me that ring. 
 
 Ber. I'll lend it thee, my dear, but have no power 
 To give it from me. 
 
 Dia. Will you not, my lord ? 
 
 Ber. It is an honour 'longing to our house, 
 Bequeathed down from many ancestors ; 
 Which were the greatest obloquy i' the world 
 
 Mine honour's such a ring : 
 
 In me to lose. 
 
 Dia. 
 
 My chastity's the jewel of our house, 
 Bequeathed down from many ancestors ; 
 Which were the greatest obloquy i' the world 
 In me to lose : Thus your own proper wisdom 
 Brings in the champion honour on my part, 
 Against your vain assault. 
 
 Ber. Here, take my ring : 
 
 My house, mine honour, vea, my life be thine, 
 And I'll be bid by thee. 
 
 Dia. When midnight comes, knock at my cham- 
 ber window ; 
 
 I'll order take, my mother shall not hear. 
 Now will I charge you in the band of truth, 
 When you have conquer'd my yet maiden bed, 
 Remain there but an hour, nor speak to me : 
 My reasons are most strong ; and you shall know 
 
 them, 
 
 When back again this ring shall be deliver'd : 
 And on your finger, in the night, I'll put 
 Another ring ; that, what in time proceeds, 
 May token to the future our past deeds. 
 Adieu, till then ; then, fail not ; you have won 
 A wife of me, though there my hope be done. 
 
 Ber. A heaven on earth I have won, by wooinaj 
 thee. ' [Exit. 
 
 Dia. For which live long to thank both heaven 
 and me ! 
 
 (1) i. e. Against his determined resolution never (2) The sense is we never swear by what is not 
 to cohabit with Helena, holy, but take to witness the Highest, the Divinity.
 
 244 
 
 ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL. 
 
 Act IV 
 
 'When I am buried. 
 
 braid, 1 
 
 Marry that will, I'll live and die a maid 
 Only, in this disguise, I think't no sin 
 To cozen him, that would unjustly win. 
 
 of her last breath, and now she sings in heaTen. 
 2 Lord. How is this justified ? 
 1 Lord. The stronger part of it by her own let- 
 ters ; which makes her story true, even to the point 
 of her death : her death itself, which could not be 
 
 Since Frenchmen are so! her office to say, is come, was faithfully confirmed 
 jy the rector of the place. 
 ' 2 Lord. Hath the count all this intelligence ? 
 1 Lord. Ay, and the particular confirmations, 
 
 You mav so in the end. 
 
 My mother told me just how he would woo, 
 As if she sal in his heart ; she says, all men 
 Have the like oaths : he had sworn to marry m 
 When his wife's dead ; therefore I'll lie with him, 
 
 [Exit. 
 
 SCENE III. The Florentine camp. Enter the 
 two French Lords, and two or three Soldiers. 
 
 1 Lord. You have not 
 letter ? 
 
 riven him his mother's 
 
 2 Lord. I have delivered it an hour since : there 
 is something in't that stings his nature ; for, on the 
 reading it, he changed almost into another man. . 
 
 1 Lord. He has much worthy blame laid upon 
 
 nim, for shaking off so 
 a lady. 
 
 ood a wife, and so sweet 
 
 2 Lord. Especially he hath incurred the ever- 
 lasting displeasure of the king, who had even 
 tuned his bounty to sing happiness to him. I will 
 tell you a thing, but you shall let it dwell darkly 
 with you. 
 
 1 Lord. When you have spoken it, 'tis dead, and 
 I am the grave of it. 
 
 2 Lord. He hath perverted a young gentlewo- 
 man here in Florence, of a most chaste renown ; 
 and this night he fleshes his will in the spoil of her 
 honour : he hath given her his monumental ring^ 
 and thinks himself made in the unchaste composi- 
 
 1 'Lord. Now, God delay our rebellion ; as we 
 are ourselves, what things are we ! 
 
 2 Lord. Merely our own traitors. And as in the 
 common course of all treasons, we still see them 
 reveal themselves, till they attain to their abhorred 
 ends ; so he, that in this action contrives against 
 his own nobility, in his proper stream o'erflows 
 himself.* 
 
 1 Lord. Is it not meant damnable 1 in us, to be 
 trumpeters of our unlawful intents ? We shall not 
 then have his company to-night ? 
 
 2 Lord. Not till after midnight ; for he is dieted 
 to his hour. 
 
 . Lord. That approaches apace : I would gladly 
 nave him see his company 4 anatomized ; that he 
 might take a measure o"f his own judgments, 
 wherein so curiously he had set this counterfeit. 
 
 2 Lord. We will not meddle with him till he 
 for his presence must be the whip of the 
 
 come 
 
 other. 
 
 1 Lord. In the mean time, what hear you of 
 these wars ? 
 
 2 Lord. I hear, there is an overture of peace. 
 
 1 Lord. Nav, I assure you, a peace concluded. 
 
 2 Lord. What will count Rousillon do then ? 
 will he travel higher, or return again into France ? 
 
 1 Lord. I perceive, by this demand, you are not 
 altogether of his council. 
 
 2 Lord. Let it be forbid, sir ! so should I be a 
 great deal of his act. 
 
 1 Lord. Sir, his wife, some two months since, 
 fled from his house : her pretence is a pilgrimage to 
 Saint Jaques le grand ; which holy undertaking, 
 with most austere sanctimony, she accomplished : 
 and, there residing, the tenderness of her nature 
 became as a prey to her grief; in fine, made a groan 
 
 (1) Crafty, deceitful. 
 
 (2) t. e. Betrays his own secrets in us own talk. 
 (S) Here, as elsewhere, used adverbially. 
 
 point from point, to the full arming of the verity. 
 
 2 Lord. I ain heartily sorry, that he'll be glad 
 of this. 
 
 1 Lord. How mightily, sometimes, we make us 
 comforts of our losses ! 
 
 2 Lord. And how mightly, some other times, we 
 drown our gain in tears ! The great dignity, that 
 !iis valour hath here acquired for him, shall at home 
 be encountered with a shame as ample. 
 
 1 Lord. The web of our life is of a mingled 
 yarn, good and ill together ; our virtues would be 
 proud, if our faults whipped them not ; and our 
 crimes would despair, if they were not cherish'd 
 by our virtues. 
 
 Enter a Servant. 
 
 How now ? where's your master ? 
 
 Serv. He met the duke in the street, sir, of 
 whom he hath taken a solemn leave ; his lordship 
 will next morning for France. The duke hath of- 
 fered him letters of commendations to the king. 
 
 2 Lord. They shall be no more than needful 
 there, if they were more than they can commend. 
 
 Enter Bertram. 
 
 1 Lord, They cannot be too sweet for the king's 
 tartness. Here's his lordship now. How now, my 
 lordj is't not after midnight ? 
 
 Ber. I have to-night despatched sixteen busi- 
 nesses, a month's length a piece, by an abstract of 
 success : I have con^e'd with the'duke, done my 
 adieu with his nearest ; buried a wife, mourned for 
 her ; writ to my lady mother, I am returning ; en- 
 tertained mv convoy ; and, between these main 
 parcels of despatch, effected manv nicer needs ; 
 the last was the greatest, but that I have not 
 ended yet. 
 
 2 Lord. If the business be of any difficulty, and 
 this morning your departure hence, it requires 
 haste of your lordship. 
 
 Ber. I mean, the business is not ended, as fear- 
 ing to hear of it hereafter : But shall we have this 
 dialogue between the fool and the soldier ?- 
 
 Come, bring forth this counterfeit module ; 5 he has 
 deceived me, like a double-meaning prophesier. 
 
 2 Lnrd. Bring him forth: [Exeunt Soldiers.] he 
 has sat in the stocks all night, poor gallant knave. 
 
 Ber. No matter ; his heels have deserv'd it, in 
 usurping his spurs 6 so long. How does he carry 
 himself? 
 
 1 Lord. I have told your lordship already : the 
 stocks carry him. But, to answer you as you 
 would be understood ; he weeps, like a wench that 
 had shed her milk : he hath confessed himself to 
 Morgan, whom he supposes to be a friar, from the 
 time of his remembrance, to this very instant dis- 
 aster of his setting i' the stocks : And what think 
 you he hath confessed ? 
 
 Ber. Nothing of me, has he ? 
 
 2 iMrd. His confession is taken, and it shall b 
 read to his face : if your lordship be in't, as, I be- 
 
 (4J For companion. (5) Model, pattern. 
 
 (6) An allusion to the degradation of a knight 
 by hacking off his spurs.
 
 Sctnt 111, 
 
 ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL. 
 
 245 
 
 lieve you are, you must hare the patience to 
 
 hear it. 
 
 Re-enter Soldiers, with Parolles. 
 
 Ber. A plague upon him ! muffled ! he can say 
 nothing of me ; hush ! hush ! 
 
 1 Lord. Hoodman comes ! Porto tartarossa. 
 
 1 Sold. He calls for the tortures; AYhat will you 
 sav without 'em ? 
 
 'Par. I will confess what I know without con- 
 straint ; if ye pinch me like a pasty, I can say no 
 more. 
 
 1 Sold. Bosko chimurcJw. 
 
 2 Lord. Boblibindo ehievrmurco. 
 
 1 Sold. You are a merciful general: Our general 
 bids you answer to what I shall ask you out of a 
 note. 
 
 Par. An truly, as I hope to live. 
 
 1 Sold. First demand of him how many horse the 
 duke is strong. What say you to that 1 
 
 Par. Five or six thousand ; but very weak and 
 unserviceable : the troops are all scattered, and 
 the commanders very poor rogues, upon my repu- 
 tation and credit, and as I hope to live. 
 
 1 Sold. Shall I set down your answer so? 
 
 Par. Do ; I'll take the sacrament on't, how and 
 which wav you will. 
 
 Ber. All's one to him. What a past-saving slave 
 
 is this ! 
 
 1 Lord. You are deceived, my lord 
 
 this is 
 
 monsieur Parolles, the gallant militarist, (that was 
 his own phrase,) that had the whole theoric 1 of 
 war in the knot of his scarf, and the practice in the 
 chape 1 of his dagger. 
 
 2 Lord. I wilt never trust a man again, for keep- 
 ing his sword clean ; nor believe he can have every- 
 thing in him, bv wearing his apparel neatly. 
 
 1 Sold. Well, that's set down. 
 
 Par. Five or six thousand 
 say true, or thereabouts, set down, for I'll 
 truth. 
 
 1 Lord. He's very near the truth in this. 
 
 Ber. But I con him no thanks for't, in the na- 
 ture he delivers it. 
 
 Par. Poor roeues, I pray you, say. 
 
 1 Sold. Well, that's set down. 
 
 Par. I humbly thank you, sir : a truth's a truth, 
 the rogues are marvellous poor. 
 
 1 Sold. Demand of him, of what strength they 
 are afoot. What say you to that. 
 
 Par. By my troth, sir, if I were to live this pre- 
 
 not possible, with wtU-weiehing sums of gctd l to 
 corrupt him to a revolt. What say you to this? 
 what do you know of it ? 
 
 Par. I beseech you, let me answer to the parti- 
 cular of the intergatories : 5 Demand them singly. 
 
 1 Sold. Do you know this captain Dumain? 
 
 Par. I know him : he was a botcher's 'prentice 
 in Paris, from whence he was whipped for getting 
 the sherifFs fool with child ; a dumb innocent,* 
 that could not say him, nay. 
 
 [Dumain lifts up.his hand in anger. 
 
 Ber. Nay, by your leave, hold your hands ; 
 though I know, his brains are forfeit to the next 
 title that falls. 
 
 1 Sold. Well, is this captain in the duke of Flo- 
 rence's camp ? 
 
 Par. Upon my knowledge, he is, and lousy. 
 
 1 Lord. Nay, look not so upon me ; we shall 
 hear of your lordship anon. 
 
 1 Sold. What is his reputation with the duke ? 
 
 Par. The duke knows him for no other but a 
 poor officer of mine ; and writ to me this other day, 
 to turn him out o' the band : I think, I have his let- 
 ter in my pocket. 
 
 1 Sold. Marry, we'll search. 
 
 Par. In gooa sadness, I do not know either it 
 is there, or it is upon a file, with the duke's other 
 letters, in mv tent. 
 
 1 Sold. Here 'tis ; here's a paper ? Shall I read 
 it to you ? 
 
 Par. I do not know, if it be it, or no. 
 
 Ber. Our interpreter does it well. 
 
 1 Lord. Excellently. 
 
 1 Sold. Dian. The count's a fool, and full of 
 gold, 
 
 Par. That is not the duke's letter, sir ; that is an 
 advertisement to a proper maid in Florence, one 
 Diana, to take heed of the allurement of one count 
 
 horse I ^aid I will Rousillon, a foolish idle boy, but, for all that, very 
 
 down',-for I'll speaL TU \^ ; * E*? -\"' sir ' P" 1 , il U P a ain - P 
 
 1 bold. Nay, I'll read it first, by your favour. 
 
 Par. My meaning in't, I protest, was very 
 honest in the behalf of the maid : for I knew the 
 young count to be a dangerous and lascivious boy : 
 who is a whale to virginity, and devours up all 
 the fry it finds. 
 
 Ber. Damnable, both sides rogue ! 
 
 1 Sold. When he swears oaths, bid him drop 
 gold, and take it; 
 
 Jlfler lie scores, he never pays the score : 
 Half won, is match well made ; match, and well 
 
 own company, Chitopher, Vaumond 
 hundred and fifty each : so that the 
 rotten and sound, upon my life, amounts not to fif- 
 teen thousand poll ; half of which dare not shake 
 the snow from off" their cassocks, 3 lest they shake 
 themselves to pieces. 
 
 Ber. What shall be done to him. 
 
 1 Lord. Nothing, but let him have thanks. De- 
 mand of him my conditions,* and what credit I 
 
 make it ;' 
 
 He ne'er pays after-debts, take it before ; 
 ' say, a, soldier, Dian, told thee this, 
 are to mell with, beys are net to kiss : 
 
 sent hour, I will tell true. Let me see : Spurio a 
 
 hundred and fifty, Sebastian so many, Corambus 
 
 so many, Jaques so many ; Guiltian, Cosmo, Lodo- 
 
 wick, and Gratii, two hundred fifty each: mine _ Jt - - 
 
 ind Bentii two *T counl of this, the count's a fool, I know it, 
 the' muster-file Who pays Before, but not when he does owe it. 
 ounts not to fif- Tltine > as he w ' d to thee U j!)jS& I a 
 
 Ber. He shall be whipped through the army, wii A 
 this rhyme in his forehead. 
 
 2 Lord. This is your devoted friend, sir, the 
 manifold linguist, an3 the armipotent soldier. 
 
 Ber. I could endure any thing before but a cat, 
 and now he's a cat to me. 
 
 1 Sold. I perceive, sir, by the general's looks, 
 we shall be fain to hang you. 
 
 Par. My life, sir, in any case : not that I am 
 afraid to die ; but that, my offences being many, I 
 would repent out the remainder of nature : let me 
 
 (5j For interrogatories. (6) A natural fool. 
 (7) t. e. A match well made is half won ; make 
 your match therefore, but make it well. 
 
 have with the duke. 
 
 1 Sold. Well, that's set down. 
 
 You shall de- 
 
 mand of him, whether one captain Dumain be t' 
 the camp, a Frenchman; what his reputation is 
 with the duke, what his valour, honesty, and ex- 
 pertness in wars; or whether he thiiiKs, it were 
 
 (H Theory. (2) The point of the scabbard. 
 (Si Cassock then signified a horseman's loose coat. 
 (4) Disposition and character.
 
 246 
 
 ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL. 
 
 live, sir, in a dungeon, i' the stocks, or any where, 
 so I may live. 
 
 1 Sold. We'll see what may be done, so you con- 
 fess freely ; therefore, once more to this captain 
 Dumain : You have answered to his reputation with 
 the duke^ and to his valour : What is his honesty ? 
 
 Par. He will steal, sir, an egg out of a cloister: ' 
 for rapes and ravishments he parallels Nessus.* He 
 professes not keeping of oaths ; in breaking them, 
 he is stronger than Hercules. He will lie, sir, with 
 such volubility, that you would think truth were a 
 fool : drunkenness is his best virtue ; for he will be 
 swine-drunk ; and in his sleep lie docs liitle harm, 
 save to his bed-clothes about him ; but they know 
 his conditions, and lay him in straw. I have but 
 little more to say, sir, of his honesty : he has every 
 thing that an honest man should not have ; what 
 an honest man should have, he has nothing. 
 
 1 Lord. I begin to love him for this. 
 
 Ber. For this description of thine honesty ? A 
 
 of all your friends. 
 
 Act IV, 
 [Unmujfling him. 
 
 So, look about you ; Know you any here ? 
 Ber. Good morrow, noble captain. 
 2 Lord. God bless you, captain Parolles. 
 
 1 Lord. God save you, noble captain. 
 
 2 Lord. Captain, what greeting will you to my 
 lord Lafeu ? I am for France. 
 
 1 Lord. Good captain, will you give me a copy 
 of the sonnet you writ to Diana in behalf of the count 
 Rousillon? an I were not a very coward, I'd compel 
 it of you ; but fare you well. [Exe . Ber. Lords, <-c , 
 
 1 Sold. You are undone, captain : all but your 
 scarf, that has a knot on't yet. 
 
 Par. Who cannot be crushed with a plot ? 
 
 1 Sold. If you could find out a country where 
 but women were that had received so much shame, 
 you might begin an impudent nation. Fare you 
 well, sir ; I am for France too ; we shall speak of 
 you there. [Exit. 
 
 Par. Yet am I thankful : if my hrart were great, 
 'Twould burst at this : Captain I'll be no more ; 
 
 pox upon him for me, he is more and more a cat. 
 
 1 Sold. What say you to his expertness in war ?' But I will eat and drink, and sleep as soft 
 Par. Faith, sir, he has led the drum before the! As captain shall : simply the thing I am 
 English tragedians, to belie him, I will not ? and (Shall make me live. Who knows himself a braggart, 
 more of his soldiership I know not ; except, in tha^Let him fear this ; for it will come to pass, 
 country, he had the honour to be the officer at a. That every braggart shall be found an ass. 
 
 the rarity redeems him. i O/-.T-I /?-< nr 
 
 Ber. A pox on him ! he's a cat still. SCfiYE IV. I lorence. Jl room mthe\\ idow's 
 
 1 Sold. His qualities being at this poor price, li holtse - Enter Helena, Widow, and Diana. 
 
 need not ask you, if gold will corrupt him to revolt. 
 Par. Sir, for a quart d'ecu 3 he will sell the fee- 
 simple of his salvation, the inheritance of it ; and 
 cut the entail from all remainders, and a perpetual 
 succession for it perpetually. 
 
 1 Sold. What's his brother, the other captain 
 Dumain? 
 
 2 Lord. Why does he ask him of me ? 
 1 Sold. What's he? 
 
 Par. E'en a crow of the same nest ; not altogether 
 50 great as the first in goodness, but greater a great 
 deal in evil. He excels his brother for a coward, 
 yet his brother is reputed one of the best that is : In 
 a retreat he outruns any lackey ; marry, in coming 
 on he has the cramp. 
 
 1 Sold. If your life be saved, will you undertake 
 to betray the Florentine ? 
 
 Par. Ay, and the captain of his horse, count 
 Rousillon. 
 
 1 Sold. I'll whisper with the general, and know 
 his pleasure. 
 
 Par. I'll no more drumming ; a plague of all 
 drums ! Only to seem to deserve well, and to be- 
 guile the supposition* of that lascivious young boy 
 the count, have I run into this danger : Yet, who 
 
 Hel. That you may well perceive I have not 
 
 wrong'd you, 
 
 One of the greatest in the Christian world 
 Shall be my surety ; 'fore whose throne, 'tis needful. 
 Ere I can perfect mine intents, to kneel : 
 Time was, I did him a desired officej 
 Dear almost as his life ; which gratitude 
 Through flinty Tartar's bosom would peep forth, 
 And answer, thanks : I duly am inform'd, 
 His grace is at Marseilles ; to which place 
 We have convenient convoy. You must know, 
 I am supposed dead : the army breaking, 
 My husband hies him home : where, heaven aiding 
 And by the leave of my good lard the Icing, 
 
 We'll be, before our welcome. 
 Wid. 
 
 You nevor hnd a servant, to whose trust 
 
 Gentle madam, 
 
 Your business was more welcome. 
 
 Hel. 
 
 Nor you, mistress 
 
 Ever a friend, whose thoughts more truly labour 
 To recompense your love ; doubt not, but Heavet 
 Hath brought me up to be your daughter's dower 
 As it hath fated her to be my motive 4 
 And helper to a. husband. But, O strange men ! 
 
 the count, have 1 run into this danger : Yet, who That can such sweet use makc of what thev hat 
 would have suspected an ambush where [was) When saucv o trusting ofthecozen'd thoughts 
 
 taken? 
 
 [Jlside. Defiles the pitch v night ! so lust doth play 
 1 bold. There is no remedy, sir, but you must W ith what it loath?, for that which is away 
 
 die : the general says, you, that have so traitorously 
 discovered the secrets of your army, and made such 
 pestiferous reports of men very nobly held, can 
 serve the world for no' honest use therefore you 
 must die. Come, headsman, off with his head. 
 
 Par. O Lord, sir ; let me live, or let me see my 
 death ! 
 
 1 Sold. That shall you, and take your leave 
 
 (1) i. t. He will steal anything however trifling, 
 from any place however holy. 
 
 (2) The Centaur killed by Hercules. 
 
 (3) The fourth part of the smaller French crown. 
 
 But more of this hereafter: You, Diana, 
 
 Under my poor instructions yet must suffer 
 
 Something in my behalf. 
 Dia. 
 
 Go with your impositions, 8 I am yours 
 
 Let death and honesty 
 
 Upon your will to suffer. 
 Hel. 
 
 Yet, I pray you, 
 
 But with the word, the time will bring' on summe 
 When briars shall have leaves as well as thorns, 
 
 (4) To deceive the opinion. 
 
 (5) For mover. (6) Lascivious. 
 
 (7) i. e. An honest death. (8) Commands.
 
 Settle I. 
 
 ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL. 
 
 247 
 
 be jade's tricks ; which arc their own right by the 
 law of nature. [Exit. 
 
 Laf. A shrewd knave, and an unhappy.* 
 Count. So he is. My lord, that's gone, made 
 
 onni/ri IT T> -i, a n. r< himself murh sport out of him : by his authority he 
 
 SCE.VE V. Rousillon. J room m the Countess' s', Tema i ns he ,,> , vhich he thinks is j a pate nt for his 
 
 And be as sweet as sharp. We must away ; 
 Our wagon is prepar'd, and time re-rives us : 
 AWs well that ends wett : still the fine's 1 the crown ; 
 Whate'er the course, the end is the renown. [Exe. 
 
 Palace. Enter Countess, Lafeu, and Clown. 
 
 Laf. No, no, no, your son was misled with a 
 snipt-taffeta fellow there ; whose villanous saffron 2 
 would have made all the unbaked and doughy 
 youth of a nation in his colour : your daughter-in- 
 law had been alive at this hour ; and your son 
 here at home, more advanced by the king-, than by 
 that red-tailed humble-bee I speak of. 
 
 Count. I would, I had not known him! 
 the death of the most virtuous gentlewoman, that 
 ever nature had praise for creating: if she had par- 
 taken of my flesh, and cost me the dearest groans 
 of a mother, I could not have owed her a more 
 rooted love. 
 
 Laf. 'Twas a good lady, 'twas a good lady : we 
 may pick a thousand salads, ere we light on such 
 another herb. 
 
 Clo. Indeed, sir, she was the sweet-marjoram of 
 the salad, or, rather the herb of grace. 3 
 
 Laf. They are not salad-herbs, you knave, they 
 are nose-herbs. 
 
 Clo. I am no great Nebuchadnezzar, sir, I have 
 not much skill in grass. 
 
 Laf. Whether dost thou profess thyself; a knave, 
 or a fool ? 
 
 Clo. A fool, sir, at a woman's service, and a 
 knave at a man's. 
 
 Laf. Your distinction ? 
 
 Clo. I would cozen the man of his wife, and do 
 his service. 
 
 Laf. So you were a knave at his service, in- 
 deed. 
 
 Clo. And I would 
 to do her service. 
 
 ;ive his wife my bauble, sir, 
 
 Laf. I will subscribe for thee ; thou art both 
 knave and fool. 
 
 Clo. At your service. 
 
 Laf. No, no, no. 
 
 Clo. Why, sir, if I cannot serve you, I can serve 
 as great a prince as you are. 
 
 Laf. Who's that?' a Frenchman? 
 
 Cu>. Faith, sir, he has an English name : but his 
 phisnomy is more hotter in France, than there. 
 
 Laf. What prince is that ? 
 
 C(o. The black prince, sir, alias, the prince of 
 darkness; alias, the devil. 
 
 Laf. Hold thec, there's my purse: I give thee 
 not this to suggest" thee from thy master thou talkest 
 of; serve him still. 
 
 Clo. I am a woodland fellow, sir, that always 
 
 sauciness ; M.J indeed, he has no pace, but runs 
 where hi- 
 
 Laf. I like >'-u v ell : 'tis not amiss : and I was 
 about to tell )i>u, .-;nce I heard of the good lady's 
 death, and that m> lord your son was upon his re- 
 turn home, I moved the'kmg my master, to speak 
 in the behalf of my daughter ; which, in the mino- 
 rity of them both, his majesty, out of a self-gra- 
 cious remembrance, did first propose : his high- 
 ness hath promised me to do it : and, to stop up 
 the displeasure he bath conceived against your son, 
 there is no fitter matter. How does vour'ladyship 
 like it? 
 
 Count. With very much content, my lord, and I 
 wish it happily effected. 
 
 Laf. His highness comes post from Marseilles, 
 of as able body as when he numbered thirty ; he 
 will be here to-morrow, or I am deceived by him, 
 that in such intelligence hath seldom failed. 
 
 Cmmt. It rejoices me, that I hope I shall see him 
 ere I die. I have letters, that my son will be here 
 to-night : I shall beseech your lordship, to remain, 
 with me till they meet together. 
 
 Laf. Madam, I was thinking, with what man- 
 ners I might safely be admitted. 
 
 Count. You need but plead your honourable 
 privilege. 
 
 Laf. Lady, of that I have made a bold charter ; 
 but, I thank my God, it holds yet. 
 Re-enter Clown. 
 
 Clo. madam, vender's my lord your son with 
 a p:itch of velvet on's face: whether there be a scar 
 under it, or no, the velvet knows ; but 'tis a goodly 
 patch of velvet : his left cheek is a, cheek of two 
 pile and a half, but his right cheek is worn bare. 
 
 Laf. A scar nobly got. or a noble scar, is a good 
 livery of honour ; so, belike, is that. 
 
 Clo. But it is your carbonadoed 6 face. 
 
 Laf. Let us go see your son, I pray you ; I long 
 to talk with the young noble soldier. 
 
 Clo. 'Faith, there's a dozen of 'em, with delicate 
 fine hats, and most courteous feathers, which boir 
 the head, and nod at every man. [Exeunt. 
 
 ACT V. 
 
 SCENE /.Marseilles. Jl street. Enter Helena, 
 
 Widow, and Diana, with two attendants. 
 
 loved a great fire ; and the master I speak of, ever Hel But this exceeding posting, day and night, 
 keeps a good fire. But, sure, he is the prince of Must wear your irits iow . we annot help jf 
 the world let his nobihty remain in his court. I But since / ou have made the days and nights as 
 am for ^the house with the narrow gate, which I OI f e 
 
 To wear your gentle limbs in my affairs, 
 Be bold, you do so grow in my requital, 
 
 As nothing can unroot you. In happy time ; . 
 
 Enter a gentle Astringer.' 
 This man may help me to his majesty's ear, 
 If he would spend his power. God save you, sir. 
 
 Gent. And you. 
 
 Hel. Sir, 1 have seen you in the court of France. 
 
 Gent. I have been sometimes there. 
 
 (5) Mischievously unhappv, waggish. 
 
 (6) Scotched like a piece of mcaf lor the gridiron, 
 
 (7) A gentleman Falconer. 
 
 take to be too little for pomp to enter : some, that 
 humble themselves, may ; but the many will be too 
 chill and tender ; and they'll be for the flowery way, 
 that leads to the broad gate, and the great fife. 
 
 Laf. Go thy ways, I bejrin to be a-weary of thee : 
 and I tell thee so before, because I would not fall 
 out with thee. Go thy ways ; let my horses be 
 veil looked to, without any tricks. 
 
 Clo. If I put any tricks upon 'em, sir, they shall 
 
 m End. 
 
 (2) There was a fashion of using yellow starch 
 for bands and ru^es. to which Lafeu alludes. 
 
 (3) i. e. Rue. (4) Seduce.
 
 243 
 
 Hel. I do presume, sir, that you are not fallen 
 From the report that goes upon your goodness ; 
 And therefore, goaded with most sharp occasions, 
 Which lay nice manners by, I put you to 
 The use of your own virtues, for the which 
 I shall continue thankful. 
 
 Gent. What's your will ? 
 
 Hel. That it will please you 
 To give this poor petition to the king ; 
 Ana aid me with that store of power you have, 
 To come into his presence. 
 
 Gent. The king's not here. 
 
 Hel. Not here, sir ? 
 
 Gent. Not, indeed ; 
 
 He hence remov'd last night, and with more haste 
 Than is his use. 
 
 Wid. Lord, how we lose our pains ! 
 
 Hel. Jilt's well that ends well ; yet ; 
 Though tune seem so adverse, and means unfit. 
 I do beseech you, whither is he gone ? 
 
 Gent. Marry, as I take it, to Rousillon ; 
 Whither I am going. 
 
 Hel. I do beseech you, sir, 
 
 Since you are like to see the king before me, 
 Commend the paper to his gracious hand ; 
 Which, I presume, shall render you no blame, 
 But rather make you thank your pains for it : 
 I will come after you, with what good speed 
 Our means will make us means. 
 
 Gent. This I'll do for you. 
 
 Hel. And you shall find yourself to be well 
 
 thank'd, 
 
 Whate'er falls more. We must to horse again ; 
 Go, go, provide. [Exeunt. 
 
 SCEJVE //. Rousillon. The inner court of the 
 
 Countess's Palace. Enter Clown and Parolles. 
 
 Par. Good monsieur Lavatch, give my lord Lafeu 
 this letter : I have ere now, sir, been better known 
 to you, when I have held familiarity with fresher 
 clothes ; but I am now, sir, muddied in fortune's 
 moat, and smell somewhat strong of her strong 
 displeasure. 
 
 Clo. Truly, fortune's displeasure Is but sluttish, 
 if it smell so strong as thou speakest of: I will 
 henceforth eat no fish of fortune's buttering. 
 PrVthee, allow the wind. 
 
 Par. Nay, you need not stop your nose, sir ; I 
 spake but by a metaphor. 
 
 Clo. Indeed, sir, if your metaphor stink, I will 
 stop my nose ; or against any man's metaphor. 
 PrVthee, get thee further. 
 
 Par. Pray you, sir, deliver me this paper. 
 
 Clo. Foh, pr'ythee, stand away ; A paper from 
 fortune's close-stool to give to a nobleman ! Look, 
 here he comes himself. 
 
 Enter Lafeu. 
 
 Here is a pur of fortune's, sir, or of fortune's cat, 
 (but not a musk-cat,) that has fallen into the un- 
 clean fishpond of her displeasure ? and, as he says, 
 is muddied withal : Pray you, sir, use the carp as 
 you may ; for he looks like a poor, decayed, inge- 
 nious, foolish, rascally knave. I do ,pity his dis- 
 tress in my smiles of comfort, and leave him to 
 your lordship. [Exit Clown. 
 
 Par. My lord, I am a man whom fortune hath 
 cruelly scratched. 
 
 Laf. And what would you have me to do ? 'tis 
 
 (1 J You need not ask ; here it is. 
 
 (2) Reckoning or estimate. 
 
 (Si Completely, in its full extent. 
 
 (4) So in As you like It : to have ' seen much 
 
 ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL. 
 
 del 
 
 too late to pare her nails now. Wherein nave you 
 played the knave with fortune, that she should 
 scratch you, who of herself is a good lady, and 
 would not have knaves thrive long under her ? 
 There's a quart d'ecte for you : Let the justices 
 make you and fortune friends ; I am for other busi- 
 ness. 
 
 Par. I beseech your honour, to hear me one sin- 
 gle word. 
 
 Laf. You beg a single penny more : come, you 
 shall ha't ; save your word. 1 
 
 Par. My name, my good lord, is Parolles. 
 
 Laf. You beg more than one word, then. Cox' 
 my passion ! give me your hand : How does your 
 drum? 
 
 Par. my good lord, you were the first that 
 found me. 
 
 Luf. Was I, in sooth ? and I was the first that 
 lost thee. 
 
 Par. It lies in you, my lord, to bring me in 
 some grace, for you did bring me out. 
 
 Laf. Out upon thee, knave ! dost thou put upon 
 me at once both the office of God and the devil ? 
 one brings thee in grace, and the other brings thee 
 out. [Trumpets sound.] The king's coming. I know 
 by his trumpets. Sirrah, inquire further after me ; 
 I had talk of you last night: though you are a fool 
 and a knave, you shall eat ; go to, follow. 
 
 Par. I praise God for you. [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE HI. The same. A room in the Coun 
 tess's Palace. Flourish. Enter King, Coun 
 tess, Lafeu, Lords, Gentlemen, guards, <$<:. 
 
 King. We lost a jewel of her ; and our esteem* 
 Was made much poorer by it : but your son, 
 As mad in folly, lack'd the sense to know 
 Her estimation home. 1 
 
 Count. 'Tis past, my liege 
 
 And I beseech your majesty to make it 
 Natural rebellion, done i'the blaze of youth ; 
 When oil and fire, too strong for reason's force, 
 O'erbears it, and burns on. 
 
 King. My honour'd lady, 
 
 1 have forgiven and forgotten all ; 
 Though my revenges were high bent upon him, 
 And watch'd the time to shoot. 
 
 Laf. This I must say, 
 
 But first I beo- my pardon, The young lord 
 Did to his -majesty, his mother, and his lady, 
 Offence of mighty note ; but to himself 
 The greatest wrong of all : he lost a wife, 
 Whose beauty did astonish the survey 
 Of richest eyes ;* whose words all ears took captive, 
 Whose dear perfection, hearts that scorn'd to serve, 
 Humbly call'd mistress. 
 
 King. Praising what is lost, 
 
 Makes the remembrance dear. Well, call him 
 
 hither ; 
 
 We are reconcil'd, and the first view shall kill 
 All repetition : s Let him not ask our pardon ; 
 The nature of his prreat offence is dead, 
 And deeper than oblivion do we bury 
 The incensing relics of it : let him approach, 
 A stranger, no offender ; and inform him, 
 So 'tis our will he should. 
 
 Gent. I shall, my liege. 
 
 [Exit Gentleman. 
 
 King. What says he to your daughter? have 
 you spoke? 
 
 and to have nothing, is to have rich eyes and poor 
 hands.' 
 
 (5) i. e. The first interview shall put an end to 
 all recollection of the past.
 
 SttM 111. 
 
 ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL, 
 
 243 
 
 Laf. All that he u hath reference to your[high- 
 
 ness. 
 Xing-. Then shall we have a match. I have 
 
 letters sent me, 
 That set him high hi fame. 
 
 Enter Bertram. 
 
 Laf. He looks well on't. 
 
 King. I am not a day of season, 1 
 For thou may'st see a sunshine and a hail 
 In me at once : But to the brightest beams 
 Distracted clouds give way ; so stand thou forth, 
 The time is fair again. 
 
 Ber. My high-repented blames, 2 
 
 Dear sovereign, pardon to me. 
 
 King. All is whole ; 
 
 Not one word more of the consumed time, 
 Let's take the instant by the forward top ; 
 For we are old, and on our quick'st decrees 
 The inaudible and noiseless foot of time 
 Steals ere we can effect them : You remember 
 The daughter of this lord? 
 
 Ber. Admiringly, my liege : at first 
 I stuck my choice upon her, ere my heart 
 Durst make too bold a herald of my tongue : 
 Where the impression of mine eye enfixincr, 
 Contempt his scornful perspective did lend me, 
 Which warp'd the line of every other favour ; 
 Scorn'd a fair colour, or express'd it stol'n ; 
 Extended or contracted all proportions, 
 To a most hideous object : Thence it came, 
 That she, whom all men prais'd, and whom myself, 
 Since I have lost, have lov'd, was in mine eye 
 The dust that did oflend it. 
 
 King. Well excus'd : 
 
 That thou didst love her, strikes some scores away 
 From the great compt : But love, that comes too late, 
 Like a remorseful pardon slowly carried, 
 To the great sender turns a sour offence, 
 Crying, That's good that's gone : our rash faults, 
 Make trivial price of serious things we have, 
 Not knowing them, until we know their grave : 
 Oil our displeasures, to ourselves unjust, 
 Destroy our friends, and after weep their dust : 
 Our own love waking cries to see what's done, 
 While shameful hate sleeps out the afternoon. 
 Be this sweet Helen's knell, and now forget her. 
 Send forth your amorous token for fair Maudlin : 
 The main consents are had ; and here we'll stay 
 To see our widower's second marriage-day. 
 
 Count. Which better than the Y;rst, O dear 
 
 heaven, bless ! 
 Or. ere they meet, in me, O nature, cease ! 
 
 Laf. Come on, my son, in whom my house's name 
 Must be digested, give a favour from you, 
 To sparkle in the spirits of my daughter, 
 That she may quickly come. By my old beard, 
 And every hair that's on't, Helen, that's dead, 
 Was a sweet creature ; such a ring as this, 
 The last that e'er I took her leave at court, 
 I saw upon her finger. 
 
 Ber. Hers it was not. 
 
 King . Now, pray you, let me see it ; for mine 
 
 eye, 
 
 While I was speaking, oft was fastened to't. 
 This ring was mine ; and, when I gave it Helen, 
 I bade her, if her fortunes ever stood 
 Necessitied to help, that by this token 
 I would relieve her : Had you that craft, to reave her 
 
 1) t. e. Of uninterrupted rain. 
 2J Faults repented of to the utmost. 
 S) In the sense of unengaged. 
 4) The philosopher's stone. 
 
 Of what should stead her most? 
 
 Ber. My gracioui sovereign, 
 
 Howe'er it pleases you to take it so, 
 The ring was never hers. 
 
 Count. Son, on my life, 
 
 I have seen her wear it ; and she reckon'd it 
 At her life's rate. 
 
 Laf. I am sure, I saw her wear it. 
 
 Ber. You are deceiv'd, my lord, she never saw it. 
 In Florence was it from a casement thrown me, 
 Wrapp'd in a paper, which contain'd the name 
 Of her that threw it : noble she was, and thought 
 I stood ingag'd : 3 but when I had subscrib'd 
 To mine own fortune, and inform'd her fully, 
 I could not answer in that course of honour 
 As she had made the overture, she ceas'd, 
 In heavy satisfaction, and would never 
 Receive the ring again. 
 
 King. Plutus himself, 
 
 That knows the tinct and multiplying medicine,* 
 Hath not in nature's mystery more science, 
 Than I have in this ring: 'twas mine, 'twas Helen's, 
 Whoever gave it you : Then, if you know 
 That you are well acquainted with yourself,* 
 Confess 'twas hers, and by what rough enforce- 
 ment | 
 You got it from her: she call'd the saints to surety, 
 That she- would never put it from her finger, 
 Unless she gave it to yourself in bed, 
 (Where you have never come,) or sent it us 
 Upon her great disaster. 
 
 Ber. She never saw it. 
 
 King. Thou speak'st it falsely, as I love mine 
 
 honour ; 
 
 And mak'st conjectural fears to come into me, 
 Which I would fain shut out : If it should prove 
 That thou art so inhuman, 'twill not prove so : 
 And yet I know not : thou didst hate her deadly, 
 And she is dead ; which nothing, but to close 
 Her eyes myself, could win me to believe, 
 More than to see this ring. Take him away. 
 
 [Guards seize Bertram. 
 My fore-past proofs, howe'er the matter fall, 
 Shall tax my fears of little vanity, 
 Having vainly fear'd too little. Away with him ; 
 We'll sift this matter further. 
 
 jBer. If you shall prove 
 
 This ring was ever hers, you shall as easy 
 Prove that I husbanded her bed in Florence, 
 Where yet she never was. [Exit Ber. guarded. 
 
 Enter a Gentleman. 
 
 King. I am Wifcftpp'd in dismal thinkings. 
 
 Gent. Gracious sovereign, 
 
 Whether I have been to blame, or no, I know not; 
 Here's a petition from a Florentine, 
 Who hath, for four or five removes, 6 come short 
 To tender it herself. I undertook it, 
 Vanquish'd thereto by the fair grace and speech 
 Of the poor suppliant, who by this, I know, 
 Is here attending: her business looks in her 
 Wiih an importing visage ; and she told me, 
 In a sweet verbal brief, it did concern 
 Your highness with herself. 
 
 King. [Reads.] Upon his many protestations to 
 marry me, when his wife WKS tit ad, I blush, to say it, 
 he won me. JVow is the count RousUlon a widow- 
 er; his rmcs are forfeited to me, and my honour's 
 .paid to him. He stole from Florence, taking no 
 leave, and I follow him to his country for justice : 
 
 (5) i. e. That you have the proper consciousness 
 of your own actions. 
 
 (6) Post-stages. 
 
 21
 
 250 
 
 ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL, 
 
 V. 
 
 Grant it me, king; in you it best lies; othencise 
 a seducer flourishes, and a poor maid is undone. 
 
 DIANA CAPULET. 
 
 La/. I will buy me a son-in-law in a fair, and 
 toll him :' for this, I'll none of him. 
 King. The heavens have thought well on thee, 
 
 Lafeu, 
 
 Tobring forth this discovery. Seek thesesuitors : 
 Go, speedily, and brin<* again the count. 
 
 [Exeunt Gentleman, and some attendants. 
 I am afeard, the life of Helen, lady, 
 Was foully snatch'd. 
 
 Count. Now, justice on the doers ! 
 
 Enter Bertram, guarded. 
 King. I wonder, sir, since wives are monsters to 
 
 you, 
 
 And that'you fly them as you swear them lordship, 
 Yet you desire to marry. What woman's that ? 
 
 Re-enter Gentleman, with Widow and Diana. 
 
 Dia. I am, nay lord, a wretched Florentine, 
 Derived from the ancient Capulet ; 
 My suit, as I do understand, you know, 
 And therefore know how far I may be pitied. 
 
 Wid. I am her mother, sir, whose age and honour 
 Both suffer under this complaint we bring 1 , 
 And both shall cease,^ without your remedy. 
 
 King. Come hither, count. Do you know these 
 women ? 
 
 Ber. Mv lord, I neither can, nor will deny 
 But that I knoir them : Do they charge me further ? 
 
 Dia. Why do you look so strange upon your wife ? 
 
 Ber. She's none of mine, my lord. 
 
 Dia. If you shall marry, 
 
 You g|ve away this hand, and that is mine ; 
 You gjve away heaven's vows, and those are mine ; 
 You give away myself, which is known mine ; 
 For I by vow am so embodied yours, 
 That she which marries you, must marry me, 
 Either both, or none. 
 
 Laf. Your reputation [To Bertram.] comes too 
 short for my daughter, you are no husband for her. 
 
 Ber. My lord, this is a fond and desperate crea- 
 ture, 
 Whom sometime I have laughed with ; let your 
 
 highness 
 
 Lay a more noble thoucrht upon mine honour, 
 Than for to think that I would sink it here. 
 
 King. Sir, for my thoughts, you have them ill to 
 
 friend, 
 Till your deeds gain them: Fairer prove your 
 
 honour, 
 Than in my thought it lies ! 
 
 Dia. Good my lord, 
 
 Ask him upon his oath, if he does think 
 He had not my virginity. 
 
 King. What say'st thou to her ? 
 
 Ber. She's impudent, my lord ; 
 
 And was a common gamester to the camp. 3 
 
 Din. He does me wrong, my lord ; if I were so, 
 He might have bought me at a common price : 
 Do not believe him : O, behold this ring, 
 Whose high respect, and rich validity,* 
 Did lack a parallel ; yet, for all that, 
 He gave it to a commoner o' the camp, 
 If I be one. 
 
 Cmmt. He blushes, and 'tis it : 
 
 Of six preceding ancestors, that gem, 
 
 (I) Pay toll for him. (2) Decease, die. 
 
 (3) Gamester, when applied to a female, then 
 meant a common woman. 
 
 (4) Value. (5) Noted. (6) Debauched. 
 
 Conferr'd by testament to the sequent issue, 
 Hath it been ow'd and worn. This is his wife ; 
 That ring's a thousand proofs. 
 
 King. Methought, you said. 
 
 You saw one here in court could witness it. 
 
 Dia. I did, my lord, but loath am to produce 
 So bad an instrument; his name's Parolles. 
 
 Laf. I saw the man to-day, if man he be. 
 
 King. Find him, and bring him hither. 
 
 Ber. What of him ? 
 
 He's quoted* for a most perfidious slave, 
 With all the spots o' the world tax'd and debosh'd s 
 Whose nature sickens, but to speak a truth : 
 Am I or that, or this, for what he'll utter, 
 That will speak any thing ? 
 
 King. She hath that ring of yours 
 
 Ber. I think, she has : certain it is, I lik'd her 
 And boarded her i' the wanton way of youth : 
 She knew her distance, and did angle for me, 
 Madding my eagerness with her restraint, 
 As all impediments in fancy's' course 
 Are motives of more fancy ; and, in fine, 
 Her insuit coming with her modern grace* 
 Subdued me to her rate : she got the ring, 
 And I had that, which any inferior might 
 At market-price have bought. 
 
 Dia. I must be patient j 
 
 You, that turn'd ofT a first so noble wife, 
 May justly diet me. 9 I pray you yet, 
 (Since you lack virtue, I will lose a husband,) 
 Send for your ring, I will return it home, 
 And give me mine again. 
 
 Ber. I have it not. 
 
 King, What ring was yours, I pray you ? 
 
 Dia. Sir, much like 
 
 The same upon your finger. 
 
 King. Know vou this" ring? this ring was his of 
 late. 
 
 Dia. And this was it I gave him, being a-bed. 
 
 King. The story then goes false, you threw it him 
 Out of a casement. 
 
 Dia. . I have spoke the truth. 
 
 Enter Parolles. 
 
 Ber. My lord, I do confess the ring was hers. 
 
 Ki)ig. You boggle shrewdly, every feather starts 
 
 you. - 
 
 Is this the man you speak of? 
 
 Dia. Ay, my lord. 
 
 King. Tell me, sirrah, but tell me true, I charge 
 
 you, 
 
 Not fearing the displeasure of your master 
 (Which, on your just proceeding, I'll keep off,) 
 By him, and by this woman here, what know you ? 
 
 Par. So please your majesty, my master "hath 
 been an honourable gentleman ; tricks he hath had 
 in him, which gentlemen have. 
 
 King. Come, come, to the purpose: Did he love 
 this woman ? 
 
 Par. 'Faith, sir, he did love her ; But how? 
 
 King. How, I pray you ? 
 
 Pnr. He did love her, sir, as a gentleman loves 
 a woman. 
 
 King. How is that ? 
 
 Par. He loved her, sir, and loved her not.* 
 
 King. As thou art a knave, and no knave: 
 What an equivocal companion 10 is this? 
 
 Par. I am a poor man, and at your majesty's 
 
 command. 
 
 (7} Love's. 
 
 (8) Her solicitation concurring with her appear- 
 ance of being common. 
 
 (9) May justly make me fast. (10) Fellow.
 
 Scene III. 
 
 ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL. 
 
 251 
 
 Laf. He's a good drum, my lord, but a naughty 
 orator. 
 
 Dia. Do you know, he promised me marriage ? 
 
 Par. 'Faith, I know more than I'll speak. 
 
 King. But wilt thou not speak all thou know'st ? 
 
 Par. Yes, so please your majesty ; I did go be- 
 tween them, as I said ; but more than that, he loved 
 her. for, indeed, he was mad for her, and talked of 
 Satan, and of limbo, and of furies, and I know not 
 what : yet I was in that credit with them at that 
 time, that I knew of their going to bed : and of 
 other motions, as promising her marriage, and 
 things that would derive me ill will to speak of, 
 therefore I will not speak what I know. 
 
 King. Thou hast spoken all already, unless thou 
 canst say they are married : But thou art too line 1 
 in thy evidence : therefore stand aside. 
 This ring, you say, was yours ? 
 
 Dia. Ay, my good lord. 
 
 King. Where did you buy it ? or who gaVe it you ? 
 
 Dia. It was not given me, nor I did not buy it. 
 
 King. Who lent it you ? 
 
 Dia. It was not lent me neither. 
 
 King. Where did you find it then ? 
 
 Dia. I found it not. 
 
 King. If it were yours by none of all these ways, 
 How could you give it him ? 
 
 Dia. I never gave it him. 
 
 Laf. This woman's an easy glove, my lord ; she 
 goes off and on at pleasure. 
 
 King. This ring was mine, I gave it his first wife. 
 
 Dia. It might be yours, or hers, for aught I know. 
 
 King. Take her away, I do not like her now : 
 To prison with her : and away with him. 
 Unless thou tell'st me where thou hadst this ring, 
 Thou diest within this hour. 
 
 Dia. I'll never tell you. 
 
 Xing. Take her away. 
 
 Dia. ' I'll put in bail, my liege, 
 
 King. I think thee now some common customer. 2 
 
 Dia. By Jove, if ever I knew man, 'twas you. 
 
 King. Wherefore hast thou accus'd him'all this 
 while ? 
 
 Dia. Because he's guilty, and he is not guilty ; 
 He knows, I am no maid,' and he'll swear to't': 
 IM1 swear, I am a maid, and he knows not. 
 Great king, I am no strumpet, by my life ; 
 I am either maid, or else this old man's wife. 
 
 [Pointing to Lafcu. 
 
 King. She does abuse our ears ; to prison with 
 her. 
 
 Dia. Good mother, fetch my bail. Stay, royal 
 sir J [Exit Wido'w. 
 
 The jeweller, that owes 3 the ring, is sent for, 
 And he shall surety me. But for this lord, 
 Who hath abus'd me, as he knows himself, 
 Though yet he never harm'd me, here I quit him : 
 He knows himself, my bed he hath defil'd ; 
 And at that time he got his wife with child : 
 Dead though she be, she feels her young one kick ; 
 So there's my riddle, One, that's dead, Is quick : 
 And now behold the meaning. 
 
 Re-enter Widow, with Helena. 
 
 Is there no exorcist 1 
 
 Beguiles the truer office of mine eyes ? 
 Is'trea], that I see? 
 
 Hel. No, my good lord ; 
 
 'Tis but the shadow of a wife you see, 
 The name, and not the thing. 
 
 Ber. Both, both 0, pardon ! 
 
 Hel. O, my good lord, when I was like this maid, 
 I found you wondrous kind. There is your ring, 
 And, look you, here's your letter ; This it says^ 
 
 When from my finger you can get this ring, 
 
 and of And. are by me with chud, &c This is done : 
 Will you be mine, now you are doubly won ? 
 
 Ber. If she, my liege, can make me know this 
 
 clearly, 
 I'll love her dearly, ever, ever dearly. 
 
 Hel. If it appear not plain, and prove untrue, 
 Deadly divorce step between me and you ! 
 0, my dear mother, do I see you living ? 
 
 Laf. Mine eyes smell onions, I shall weep anon 
 Good Tom Drum, [To Parolles.] lend me a 
 handkerchief: So, I thank thee ; wait on me home, 
 I'll make sport with thee : Let thy courtesies alone, 
 Ihcv are scurvy ones. 
 
 Kin*. Let us from point to point this story know, 
 To make the even truth in pleasure flow : 
 If thou be'st yet a fresh uncropped flower, 
 
 [To Diana. 
 
 Choose thou thy husband, and I'll pay thy dower : 
 For I can guess, that, by the honest a'id, 
 Thou kept'st a wife herself, thyself a maid. 
 Of that, and all the progress, more and less, 
 Resolvedly more leisure shall express : 
 All yet seems well ; and if it end so meet, 
 The bitter past, more welcome is the sweet. 
 
 [Flourish, 
 Jidvancing. 
 
 The Idn^s a beggar, noio the play is done : 
 All is well-ended, if this suit be. won, 
 That you excess content ; which we will pay, 
 With utrife to please you, day exceeding day : 
 Ours be your patience then, and yours our parts ; 
 Your gentle hands lend us, and take our hearts. 
 
 [Exeunt, 
 
 (1) Too artful. 
 (3) Owns. 
 
 (2) Common woman. 
 '4) Enchanter. 
 
 This^play has mnny delightful scenes, though 
 not sufficiently probable ; and some happy charac- 
 ters, though not new, nor produced by any deep 
 knowledge of human nature. Parolles is a boaster 
 and a coward, such as has always been the sport 
 of the stage, but perhaps never raised more laugh- 
 ter or contempt than in the hands of Shakspeare. 
 
 I cannot reconcile my heart to Bertram ; a man 
 noble without generosity, and young without 
 truth ; who mnrries Helen as a coward, and leaves 
 her as a profligate : when she is dead by his un- 
 kindness, sneaks home to a second marriage, is ac- 
 cused by a woman whom he has wronged, defends 
 tiimself by falsehood, and is dismissed to happiness. 
 
 The story of Bertram and Diana had been told 
 before of Mariana and Angelo, and, to confess the 
 truth, scarcely merited to be heard a second time. 
 JOHNSON. 
 
 (5) i. e. Hear us without interruption, and take 
 our parts, that is, support and defend us.
 
 ( 252 ) 
 
 TAMING OF THE SHREW. 
 
 PERSONS REPRESENTED. 
 
 .0 Lord. ) 
 
 Christopher Sly, o drunken tinker, f Persons in 
 Hostess, Page, Players, Huntsmen, > the Induc- 
 
 and other Servants attending on V tion. 
 
 the Lord. J 
 
 Baptista, a rich gentleman of Padua. 
 Vincentio, an ola gentleman of Pisa. 
 Lucentio, son to Vincentio, in love with Bianco. 
 Petruchio, o gentleman of Verona, a suitor to 
 Katharina. 
 
 Gremio, I su itors to Bianco. 
 Hortensio, J 
 
 CurtiT' } servants to Petruchio. 
 
 Pedant, an old fellow set up to personate Vincentio. 
 
 Widow . 
 
 Tailor, Haberdasher, and Servants, attending on 
 Baptista and Petmchio. 
 
 Scene, sometimes in Padua, and smnelimes in Pe- 
 truchio's House in the Country. 
 
 CHARACTERS IN THE INDUCTION. 
 
 To the Original Play of The Taming of a Shrew, 
 entered on the Stationers' books in 1594, arid 
 printed in quarto in 1607. 
 
 Jl Lord, SfC. 
 
 Sly. 
 
 Jl Tapster. 
 
 Page, Players, Huntsmen, fyc. 
 
 i 
 \ 
 
 dmghtert O j ^. 
 
 PERSONS REPRESENTED. 
 
 Alphonsus, a merchant ofJlthens, 
 Jcrobel, Duke of Cestus. 
 Aurelius, his son, 
 
 PoHdor' 
 
 Valeria, servant to Jlurelius. 
 
 Sander, servant to Ferando. 
 
 Phylotus, a merchant who personates the Duke. 
 
 Kate, ) 
 
 Emelia, > daughters to Jllphonsus. 
 
 Phylema, j 
 
 Tailor, 'Haberdasher, and Servants to Ferando and 
 Jilphonsus. 
 
 Scene, Athens ; and sometimes Ferando's Country 
 House. 
 
 INDUCTION. 
 
 SCENE I. Before an Alehouse on a Heath. 
 Enter Hostess and Sly. 
 
 Sly. 
 
 I'LL pheese' you, in faith. 
 
 Host. A pair of stocks, you rogue ! 
 
 Sly. Y'are a baggage ; the Slies are no rogues : 
 .Look in the chronicles, we came in with Richard 
 Conqueror. Therefore, paucas pallabris ; 2 let the 
 world slide : Sessa ." 
 
 Host. You will not pay for tb,e glasses you have 
 burst? 4 
 
 Sly. No, not a denier : Go by, says Jeronimy ; 
 Go to thy cold bed, and warm thce. 5 
 
 Host. I know my remedy, I must go fetch the 
 thirdborough. 6 [Exit. 
 
 Sly. Third, or fourth, or fifth borough, I'll an- 
 swer him by law : I'll not budge an inch, boy ; let 
 him come, and kindly. 
 
 [Lies rfoic7i 071 the ground, and falls asleep. 
 
 (1) Beat or knock. (2) Few words. 
 
 (3) Be quiet. (4) Broke. 
 
 (5) This line and the scrap of Spanish is used in 
 burlesque from an old play called Hieronymo, or 
 the Spanish Tragedy. 
 
 Wind horns. Enter a Lord from hunting, with 
 Huntsmen and Servants. 
 
 Lord. Huntsman, I charge thee, tender well my 
 
 hounds : 
 
 Brach' Merriman, the poor cur is emboss'd,* 
 And couple Clowder with the deep-mouth'd orach. 
 Saw'st thou not, boy, how Silver made it good 
 At the hedge corner, in the coldest fault ? 
 I would not lose the dog for twenty pound. 
 
 1 Hun. Whj-j Belman is as good as he, my lord; 
 He cried upon it at the merest loss, 
 And twice to-day pick'd out the dullest scent: 
 Trust me, I take him for the better dog. 
 
 Lord. Thou art a fool ; if Echo were as fleet, 
 I would esteem him worth a dozen such. 
 But sup them well, and look unto them all ; 
 To-morrow I intend to hunt again. 
 
 1 Hun. I will, my lord. 
 
 Lord. What's here ? one dead, or drunk ? Sec, 
 doth he breathe ? 
 
 2 Hun. He breathes, my lord : Were he not 
 
 warm'd with ale, 
 
 This were' a bed but cold to sleep so soundly. 
 Lord. O monstrous beast ! how like a swine he 
 
 lies ! 
 Grim death, how foul and loathsome is thine image ! 
 
 (6) An officer whose authority equals a constable. 
 
 (7) Bitch. (8) Strained.
 
 Induction. 
 
 TAMING OF THE SHREW. 
 
 253 
 
 Sirs, I will practise on this drunken man. 
 
 What think you, if he were convey'd to bed, 
 Wrapp'd in sweet clothes, rings put upon his lingers, 
 A most delicious banquet by his bed, 
 And brave attendants near him when he wakes, 
 Would not the beggar then forget himself? 
 
 1 Hun. Believe me, lord, I think he cannot 
 
 choose. 
 
 2 Hun. It would seem strange unto him when 
 
 he wak'd. 
 
 Lord. Even as a flattering dream, or worthless 
 
 fancy. 
 
 Then take him up, and manage well the jest : 
 Carry him gently to my fairest chamber, 
 And hang it round with all my wanton pictures : 
 Balm his foul head with warm distilled waters, 
 And burn sweet wood to make the lodging sweet : 
 Procure me music ready when he wakes, 
 To make a dulcet and a heavenly sound ; 
 And if he chance to speak, be ready straight, 
 And, with a low submissive reverence, 
 Say, What is it your honour will command ? 
 Let one attend him with a silver bason, 
 Full of rose-water, and bestrew'd with flowers ; 
 Another bear the ewer, 1 the third a diaper, 2 
 And say, Will't please your lordship cool your 
 
 * hands ? 
 
 Some one be ready with a costly suit, 
 And ask him what apparel he will wear ; 
 Another tell him of his hounds and horse, 
 And that his lady mourns at his disease : 
 Persuade him, that he hath been lunatic ; 
 And, when he says he is , say, that he drea.ms, 
 For he is nothing but a mighty lord. 
 This do, and do it kindly,- 1 gentle sirs ; 
 It will be pastime passing excellent, 
 If it be husbanded with modesty.* 
 
 1 Hun. My lord, I warrant you, we'll play our 
 
 part, 
 
 As he shall think, by our true diligence, 
 He is no less than what we say he is. 
 
 Lord. Take him up gently, and to bed with him ; 
 And each one to his office, when he wakes. 
 
 [Some bear out Sly. A trumpet sounds. 
 Sirrah, go see what trumpet"'tis that sounds : 
 
 [Exit Servant 
 
 Belike, some noble gentleman ; that means, 
 Travelling some journey, to repose him here. 
 
 Re-enter a Servant. 
 How now ? who is it? 
 
 Sen). An it please your honour, 
 
 Players that offer service to your lordship. 
 
 Lord. Bid them come near : 
 
 Enter Players. 
 
 Now, fellow?, you are welcome. 
 
 1 Play. We thank your honour. 
 
 Lord. Do you intend to stay with me to-night. ? 
 
 2 Play. So please your lordship to accept our 
 
 duty. 
 
 Lord. With all my heart This fellow I re- 
 member, 
 
 Since once he play'd a farmer's eldest son ; 
 Twas where you woo'd the gentlewoman so well : 
 I have forgot your name ; but, sure, that part 
 Was aptly fitted, and naturally perform'd. 
 
 1 Play. I think, 'twas Soto that your honour 
 
 means. 
 
 Lord. 'Tis very true ; thou didst it excellent. 
 Well, you are come to me in happy time ; 
 The rather for I have some sport in hand, 
 
 (I) Pitcher. (2) Napkin, (3) Naturally, 
 
 Wherein your coming can assist me much. 
 There is a lord will hear you play to-night : 
 But I am doubtful of your modesties ; 
 Lest, over-eying of his odd behaviour 
 (For yet his honour never heard a play,) 
 You break into some merry passion, 
 And so offend him ; for I tell you, sirs, 
 If you should smile, he grows impatient. 
 1 Play. Fear not, my lord ; we can contain our 
 
 selves, 
 Were he the veriest antic in the world. 
 
 Lord. Go, sirrah, take them to the buttery, 
 And give them friendly welcome every one : 
 Let them want nothing that my house affords. 
 
 [Exeunt Servant and Players. 
 Sirrah, go you to Bartholomew my page, 
 
 [To a Servant. 
 And see him dress'd in all suits like a lady : 
 That done, conduct him to the drunkard's chamber, 
 And call him madam, do him obeisance, 
 Tell him from me (as he will win my love,) 
 He bear himself with honourable action, 
 Such as he hath observ'd in noble ladies 
 Unto their lords, by them accomplished : 
 Such duty to the drunkard let him do, 
 With soft low tongue, and lowly courtesy , 
 And say, What is't your honour will command, 
 Wherein your lady, and your humble wife. 
 May show her duty, and make known her love ? 
 And then with kind embracements, tempting 
 
 kisses, 
 
 And with declining head into his bosom, 
 Bid him shed tears, as being- overjoy'd 
 To see her noble lord restor'd to health, 
 Who, for twiee seven years, hath esteemed him 
 No better than a poor and loathsome beggar : 
 And if the boy have not a woman's gift, 
 To rain a shower of commanded tear.*, 
 An ofiion will do well for such a shift : 
 Which in a napkin being close convey'd, 
 Shall in despite enforce a watery eye. 
 See this despatch'd with all the'haste thou canst ; 
 
 Anon I'll give thee more instructions. 
 
 [Exit Servant. 
 
 I know, the boy will well usurp the grace, 
 Voice, gait, and action of a gentlewoman : 
 I long to hear him call the drunkard, husband : 
 And how my men will stay themselves from 
 
 laughter, 
 
 When they do homage to this simple peasant. 
 I'll in to counsel them : haply, 5 mv presence 
 May wr!l abate the over-merrv spleen, 
 Which otherwise would grow into extremes. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE II. J Bedchamber in the Lord's house. 
 Sly is discovered in a rich nightgown, with at- 
 tendants ; some icith apparel, others irith basm, 
 ewer, and other appurtenances. Enter Lord, 
 dressed like a Servant. 
 
 Sly. For God's sake, a pot of small ale. 
 
 1 Serv. Will't please your lordship drink a cup 
 
 of sack ? 
 
 2 Serv. Will't please your honour taste of these 
 
 conserves ? 
 
 3 Sere. What raiment will vour honour wear to- 
 
 day? 
 
 Sfa. I am Christophero S'.y ; call not me honour, 
 nor lordship : I never drank sack in my life ; and 
 if you give me any conserves, give me conserves 
 of beef : Ne'er ask me what raiment I'll wear ; for 
 
 (4) Moderation, 
 
 (5) Perhaps,
 
 234 
 
 TAMING OF THE SHREW. 
 
 Sf ene 1L 
 
 I hare no more doublets than backs, no more stock- 
 ings than legs, nor no more shoes than feet ; nay, 
 sometimes, more feet than shoes, or such shoes as 
 my toes look through the overleather. 
 
 Lord. Heaven cease this idle humour in your 
 
 honour ! 
 
 O, that a mighty man, of such descent, 
 Of such possessions, and so high esteem, 
 Should be infused with so foul a spirit ! 
 
 Sly. What, would you make ma mad ? Am not 
 I Christopher Sly, old Sly's son of Burton-heath; 
 by birth a pedler, by education a card-maker, by 
 transmutation a bear-herd, and now by present 
 profession a tinker? Ask Marian Hacket, the fat 
 ale wife of Wincot, if she know me not : if she say 
 I am not fourteen pence on the score for sheer ale, 
 score me up for the lyingest knave in Christendom. 
 What, I am not bestraught: 1 Here's 
 
 1 Serf. O. this it is that makes your lady mourn. 
 
 2 Serv. 0, this it is that makes your servants 
 
 droop. 
 Lord. Hence comes it that your kindred shun 
 
 your "house, 
 
 As beaten hence by your strange '.unary. ' 
 O, noble lord, betfiink thee of thy birth ; 
 Call home thy ancient thoughts from banishment, 
 And banish hence these abject lowly dreams : 
 Look how thy servants do attend on thee, 
 Each in his office ready at thy beck. 
 Wilt thou have music V hark ! Apollo plays, 
 
 [Jlfttftic. 
 
 And twenty caged nightingales do sing : 
 Or wilt thou sleep ? we'll have thee to a couch, 
 Softer and sweeter than the lustful bed 
 On purpose trimm'd up for Semiramis. 
 Say, thou wilt walk : we will bestrew the ground : 
 Or wilt thou ride ? thy horses shall be trapp'd, 
 Their harness studded all with gold and pearl. 
 Dost thou love hawking? thou hast hawks will soar 
 AboTe the morning lark : Or wilt thou hunt ? 
 Thy hounds shall make the welkin answer them, 
 And fetch shrill echoes from the hollow earth. 
 
 1 Sen. Say, thou wilt course ; thy greyhounds 
 
 are as swift 
 As breathed stags, ay. fleeter than the roe. 
 
 2 Sere. Dost thou love pictures ? we will fetch 
 
 thee straight 
 
 Adonis, painted by a running brook : 
 And Cytherea all in sedges hid ; 
 Which seem to move and wanton with her breath, 
 Even as the waving sedges play with wind. 
 
 Lord. We'll show thee lo, as she was a maid ; 
 And how she was beguiled and surpris'd, 
 As lively painted as the deed was done. 
 
 S Serv. Or Daphne, roaming through a thorny 
 
 wood ; 
 
 Scratching her legs that one shall swear she bleeds : 
 And at that sight shall sad Apollo weep, 
 So workmanly the blood and tears are drawn. 
 
 Lord. Thou art a lord, and nothing but a lord : 
 Thou hast a lady far more beautiful 
 Than any woman in this waning age. 
 
 1 Sen. And, till ihe tears that she hath shed for 
 
 thee, 
 
 Like envious floods, o'er-ran her lovely face, 
 She was the fairest creature in the world ; 
 And yet she is inferior to none. 
 
 Sly. Am I a lord ? and have I such a lady ? 
 Or do I dream ? or have I dream'd till now ? 
 I do not sleep : I see, I hear, I speak ; 
 1 smell sweet savours, and I feel soft things : 
 Upon my life, I am a lord, indeed ; 
 
 (I) Distracted. (2) Faith. (3) Court-leet. 
 
 And not a tinker, nor Christophero Sly. 
 Well, bring our lady hither to our sight ; 
 And once airain, a pot o' the smallest ale. 
 
 2 Serv. Will't please your mightiness to wash 
 
 your hands ? 
 
 [Servants present an etcer, bason, and napkin. 
 O, how we joy to see your wit restor'd ! 
 O, that once more you knew but what you are ! 
 These fifteen years vou have been in a dream ; 
 Or, when yon wak'd, so wak'd as if you slept. 
 
 Sly. These fifteen years ! by my fay, s a goodly 
 
 nap. 
 But did I never speak of all that time ? 
 
 1 Serv. O, yes, my lord ; but very idle words : 
 For though you lay here in this goodly chamber, 
 Yet would you say, ye were beaten out of door ; 
 And rail upon the hostess of the house ; 
 And say, you would present her at the leet,* 
 Because she brought stone jugs and no seal'd quarts: 
 Sometimes you %vould call out for Cicely Hacket. 
 
 S'v. Ay, the woman's maid of the house,. 
 
 3 Serv. Why, sir, you know no house, nor no 
 
 such maid ; 
 
 Nor no such men, as you have reckon'd up, 
 As Stephen Sly, and old John Naps of Greece, 
 And Peter Turf, and Henry Pimpernel! ; 
 And twenty more such names and men as these, 
 Which never were, nor no man ever saw. 
 
 Sly. Now, Lord be thanked for my good amends ! 
 
 Jill. Amen. 
 
 Shi. I thank thee ; thou shall not lose by it. 
 tenter the Page, as a lady, u-ith attendants. 
 
 Page. How fares my noble lord ? 
 
 Sly. Marry, I fare well ; for here is cheer enough. 
 Where is my wife ? 
 
 Page. Here, noble lord; What is thy will with her? 
 
 Sly. Are you my wife, and will not call me 
 
 husband ? 
 My men should call me lord ; I am your goodman. 
 
 Page. My husband and my lord, my lord and 
 
 husband ; 
 I am your wife in all obedience. 
 
 Sly. I know it well : What must I call her? 
 
 Lord. Madam. 
 
 Sly. Al'ce madam, or Joan madam ? 
 
 Lord. Madam, and nothing else ; so lords call 
 ladies. 
 
 Sly. Madam wife, they say that I have dream'd, 
 
 and slept 
 Above some fifteen year and more. 
 
 Page. Av, and the time seems thirty unto me : 
 Being all this time abandon'd from your bed. 
 
 Sly. 'Tis much ; Servants, leave me and hei 
 
 alone. 
 
 Madam, undress you, and come now to bed. 
 
 Page. Thrice noble lord, let me entreat of you, 
 To pardon me yet for a night or two ; 
 Or, if not so, until the sun be set : 
 For your physicians have expressly charg'd, 
 In peril to incur your former malady, 
 That I should yet absent me from your bed : 
 I hope, this reason stands for my excuse. 
 
 Sly. Ay, it stands so, that I ifiav hardly tarry so 
 long. But I would be loath to fall into mv dreams 
 again ; I will therefore tarry, in despite of the flesh 
 and the blood. 
 
 Enter a Servant. 
 
 ST, Your honour's players, hearing your 
 
 amendment, 
 
 Are come to play a pleasant comedy, 
 For so your doctors hold it very meet ; 
 Seeing too much sadness hath cbngeal'd your blood,
 
 Act I. 
 
 TAMING DP THE SHREW. 
 
 255 
 
 And melancholy is the nurse of frenzy, 
 Therefore, they thought it good you hear a play, 
 And frame your mind to mirth and merriment, 
 Which bars a thousand harms, and lengthens life. 
 
 Sly. Marry, I will ; let them play it : Is not a 
 commonly 1 a Christmas gambol, or a tumbling- 
 trick? 
 
 Page. No, my good lord ; it is more pleasing 
 stuff". 
 
 Sly. What, household stuff? 
 
 Page. It is a kind of history. 
 
 Sly. Well, we'll see't: Come, madam wife, sit 
 by my side, and let the world slip ; we shall ne'er 
 be younger. f They sit down. 
 
 ACT I. 
 
 SCTJVJE /.-Padua. A Public Place. 
 Lucentio and Tranio. 
 
 Enter 
 
 Luc. Tranio, since for the great desire I had 
 To see fair Padua, nursery of arts, 
 I am arriv'd for fruitful Lombardy, 
 The pleasant garden of great Italy ; 
 And, by my father's love and leave, am arm'd 
 With his good will, and thy good company, 
 Most trusty servant, well apprpv'd in all ; 
 Here let us breathe, and happily institute 
 A course of learning, and ingenious 2 studies. 
 Pisa, renowned for grave citizens, 
 Gave me my being, and my father first, 
 A merchant of great traffic through the world, 
 Vincentio, come of the Bentivplii. 
 Vincentio his son, brought up in Florence, 
 It shall become, to serve all hopes conceiv'd, 
 To deck his fortune with his virtuous deeds : 
 And therefore, Tranio, for the time I study, 
 Virtue, and that part of philosophy 
 Will I apply, that treats of happiness 
 By virtue 'specially to be achiev'd. 
 Tell me thy mind : for I have Pisa left, 
 And am to Padua come ; as he that leaves 
 A shallow plash, 3 to plunge him in the deep, 
 And with satiety seeks to quench his thirst. 
 
 Tra. Mi perdonate,* gentle master mine, 
 I am in all affected as yourself; 
 Glad that you thus continue your resolve, 
 To suck the sweets of sweet philosophy. 
 Only, good master, while we do admire 
 This virtue, and this moral discipline, 
 Let's be no stoics, nor no stocks, I pray : 
 Or so devote to Aristotle's checks,* 
 As Ovid be an outcast quite abjur'd 
 Talk logic with acquaintance that you have, 
 And practice rhetoric in your common talk : 
 Music and poesy use to quicken 6 you ; 
 The mathematics, and the metaphysics, 
 Fall to them, as you find your stomach serves you: 
 No profit grows, where is no pleasure ta'en ; 
 In brief, sir, study what you most affect. 
 
 Luc. Gramercies, Tranio, well dost thou advise. 
 If, Biondello, thou wert come ashore, 
 We could at once put us in readiness ; 
 And take a lodging, fit to entertain 
 Such friends, as time in Padua shall beget. 
 But stay awhile : What company is this ? 
 
 Tra. "Master, some show, to welcome us to town. 
 
 H ) For comedy. 
 
 (5) Small piece of water. 
 
 (6) Harsh rules. 
 
 (2) Ingsnuous. 
 (4} Pardon me. 
 (6) Animate. 
 
 Enter Baptista. Katharina, Bianca, Gremio ? and 
 Hortensio. Lucentio and Tranio stand aside. 
 
 Bap. Gentlemen, imp6rtune me no further, 
 For how I firmly am resolv'd you know ; 
 That is, not to bestow my youngest daughter, 
 Before I have a husband for the elder : 
 If either of you both love Katharina, 
 Because I know you well, and love you well, 
 Leave shall you have to court'her at your pleasure. 
 
 Gre. To cart her rather : She's too rough for me : 
 There, there, Hortensio, will you any wife ? 
 
 Kath. I pray you, sir, [To Bap.] is it your wih 
 To make a stale 7 of me amongst these mates ? 
 
 Hor. Mates, maid ! how mean you that ? no 
 
 mates for you, 
 Unless you were of gentler, milder mould. 
 
 Kath. I'faith, sir, you shall never need t fear ; 
 I wis, 8 it is not half way to her heart : 
 But, if it were, doubt not her care should be 
 To comb your noddle with a three-legg'd stool, 
 And paint your face, and use you like a fool. 
 
 Hor. From all such devils, good Lord, deliver us ! 
 
 Gre. And me too, good Lord ! 
 
 Tra. Hush, master ! here is some good pastime 
 
 toward ; 
 That wench is stark mad, or wonderful froward. 
 
 Luc. But in the other's silence I do see 
 Maids' mild behaviour and sobriety. 
 Peace, Tranio. 
 
 Tra. Well said, master : mum ! and gaze your 
 fill. 
 
 Bap. Gentlemen, that I may soon make good 
 What have I said, Bianca, get you in : 
 And let it not displease thee, good Bianca ; 
 For I will love thee ne'er the less, my girl. 
 
 Kath. A pretty peat ! 9 'tis best 
 Put finger in the eye, an she knew why. 
 
 Bian. Sister, content you in my discontent. 
 Sir, to your pleasure humbly I subscribe : 
 My books, and instruments, shall be my company , 
 On them to look, and practise by myself. 
 
 Luc. Hark, Tranio ! thou may'st hear Minerva 
 speak. [Aside. 
 
 Hor. Signior Baptkta, will you be so strange? 
 Sorry am I, that our good will effects 
 Bianca's grief. 
 
 Gre. Why, will you mew 10 her up, 
 
 Signior Baptista, for this fiend of hell, 
 And make her bear the pehance of her tongue ? 
 
 Bap. Gentlemen, content ye ; I am resolv'd : 
 I Go in, Bianca. [Exit Bianca. 
 
 And for I know, she taketh most delight 
 In music, instruments, and poetry, 
 I Schoolmasters will I keep within my house, 
 jFit to instruct her youth. If you, Hortensio, 
 Or signior Gremio, you, know any such, 
 Prefer" them hither; for to cunning 12 men 
 I will be very kind, and liberal 
 To mine own children in good bringing-up ; 
 And so farewell. Katharina, you may stay 
 For I have more to commune with Bianca. f Exit. 
 
 Kath. Whv, and I trust, I may go too ; May I not ? 
 What, shall I be appointed hours ; as though, belike, 
 I knew not what to take, and what to leave ? Ha ! 
 
 [Exit. 
 
 Gre. Yon may go to the devil's dam ; your gifts 11 
 are so good, here is none will hold you. "Their love 
 is not so great, Hortensio, but we may blow our 
 nails together, and fast it fairly out ; our cake's 
 dough on both sides. Farewell : Yet, for the love 
 
 (7) A bait or decoy. (8) Think. (9) Pet. 
 
 HO) Shut. (11) Recommend. 
 
 (12) Knowing, learned. (13) Endowments,
 
 258 
 
 TAMING OF THE SHREW. 
 
 Act 7. 
 
 I bear my sweet Bianca, if I can by any means 
 light on a fit man, to teach her that wherein she 
 delights, I will wish him to her father. 
 
 Hor. So will I, signior Gremio : But a word, I 
 pray. Though the nature of our quarrel yet never 
 brook'd parle, know now, upon advice, 1 it toucheth 
 us both, that we may yet again have access to our 
 fair mistress, and be happy rivals in Bianca's love, 
 to labour and effect one thing 'specially 
 
 Gre. What's that, I pray ? 
 
 Hor. Marry, sir, to get a husband for her sister. 
 
 Gre. A husband ! a devil. 
 
 Hor. I say, a husband. 
 
 Gre. I say, a devil : Think'st thou, Hortensio, 
 though her father be very rich, any man is so very 
 a fool to be married to hell ? 
 
 Hor. Tush, Gremio, though it pass your patience, 
 and mine, to endure her loud alarums, why, man. 
 there be good fellows in the world, an a man could 
 light on them, would take her with all faults, and 
 money enough. 
 
 Gre. I cannot tell : but I had as lief take her 
 dowry with this condition, to be whipped at the 
 high-cross every morning. 
 
 Hor. 'Faith, as you say, there's small choice in 
 rotten apples. But, come ; since this bar in law 
 makes us friends, it shall be so far forth friendly 
 maintained, till by helping Baptista's eldes't 
 daughter to a husband, we set his youngest free for 
 a husband, and then have to't afresh. Sweet Bi- 
 anca ! Happy man be his dole ! 2 He that runs fast- 
 est, gets the ring. How say you, signior Gremio ? 
 
 Gre. I am agreed : and 'would I had given him 
 the best horse in Padua to begin his wooing, that 
 would thoroughly woo her, wed her, and bed her, 
 and rid the house of her. Come on. 
 
 [Exeunt Gremio and Hortensio. 
 
 Tra. [Advancing.] I pray, sir, tell me, Is it 
 
 possible 
 That love should of a sudden take such hold ? 
 
 Luc. O Tranio, till I found it to be true, 
 I never thought it possible, or likely ; 
 But see ! while idly I stood looking on, 
 I found the effect of love in idleness : 
 And now in plainness do confess to thec, 
 That art to me as secret, and as dear, 
 As Anna to the queen of Carthage was, 
 Tranio, I burn, I pine, I perish, Tranio, 
 If I achieve not this young modest girl: 
 Counsel me, Tranio, for i know thou canst ; 
 Assist me, Tranio, for I know thou wilt. 
 
 Tra. Master, it is no time to chide you now ; 
 Affection is not rated 3 from the heart : 
 If love have touch'd you, nought remains but so, 
 Jiedime et captum quam queas minima. 
 
 Luc. Gramercies, lad ; go forward : this contents ; 
 The rest will comfort, for thy counsel's sound. 
 
 Tra. Master, you look'd so longly* on the maid, 
 Perhaps you mafk'd not what's the pith of all. 
 
 Luc. yes, I saw sweet beauty in her face, 
 Such as the daughter* of Agenor had, 
 That made great Jove to humble him to her hand, 
 When with his knees he kiss'd the Cretan strand. 
 
 Tra. Saw you no more? mark'd you not, how 
 
 her sister 
 
 Began to scold ; and raise up such a storm, 
 That mortal ears might hardly endure the din ? 
 
 Luc. Tranio, I saw her coral lips to move, 
 And with her breath she did perfume the air ; 
 Sacred, and sweet, was all I saw in her. 
 
 (1) Consideration. (2) Gain or lot. 
 
 (2) Driven out by chiding. (4) Longingly, 
 (6) Europa, (6) 'Tis enough. 
 
 Tra. Nay, then, 'tis time to stir him from his 
 
 trance. 
 
 I pray, awake, sir ; If you love the maid, 
 Bend thoughts and wits to achieve her. Thus it 
 
 stands : 
 
 Her elder sister is so curst and shrewd, 
 That, till the father rid his hands of her, 
 Master, your love must live a maid at home ; 
 And therefore has he closely mew'd her up, 
 Because she shall not be annoy'd with suitors. 
 
 Le. Ah, Tranio, what a cruel father's he ! 
 But art thou not advis'd, he took some care 
 To get her cunning schoolmasters to instruct her? 
 
 Tra. Ay marry, am I, sir ; and now 'tis plotted. 
 
 Luc. I have it, Tranio. 
 
 Tra. Master, for my hand, 
 
 Both our inventions meet and jump in one. 
 
 Luc. Tell me thine first. 
 
 Tra. You will be schoolmaster, 
 
 And undertake the teaching of the maid : 
 That's your device. 
 
 Luc. It is : May it be done ? 
 
 Tra. Not possible ; for who shall bear your part, 
 And be in Padua here Vincentio's son ? 
 Keep house, and ply his book; welcome his friends ; 
 Visit his countrymen, and banquet them ? 
 
 Luc. Basta; 6 content thee ; for I have it full. 
 We have not yet been seen in any house ; 
 Nor can we be distinguished by our faces, 
 For man, or master : then it follows thus ; 
 Thou shall be master, Tranio, in my stead, 
 Keep house, and port, 7 and servants, as I should 
 I will some other be ; some Florentine, 
 Some Neapolitan, or mean man of Pisa. 
 'Tis hatch'd, and shall be so : Tranio, at once 
 Uncase thee ; take my colour'd hat and cloak : 
 When Biondcllo comes, he waits on thee ; 
 But I will charm him first to keep his tongue. 
 
 Tra. So had you need. [They exchange habits. 
 In brief then, sir, sith" it your pleasure is, 
 And I am tied to be obedient 
 (For so your father charg'd me at our parting ; 
 Be serviceable to my son, quoth he, 
 Although, I think, 'twas in another sense ;) 
 I am content to be Luccntio, 
 Because so well I love Lucentio. 
 
 Luc. Tranio, be so, because Lucentio loves : 
 And let me be a slave, to achieve that maid, 
 Whose sudden sight hath thrall'd my wounded eye. 
 
 Enter Biondello. 
 
 Here comes the rogue. Sirrah, where have you 
 been? 
 
 Bion. Where have I been ? Nay, how now, where 
 
 are you ? 
 
 Master, has my fellow Tranio stol'n your clothes ? 
 Or you stol'n his ? or both ? pray, what's the news? 
 
 Luc. Sirrah, come hither ; 'tis no time to jest, 
 And therefore frame your manners to the time. 
 Your fellow Tranio here, to save my life, 
 Puts my apparel and my countenance on, 
 And I for my escape have put on his ; 
 For in a quarrel, since I came ashore, 
 I kill'd a man, and fear I was descried : 9 
 Wait you on him, I charge you, as becomes, 
 While I make way from hence to save my life : 
 You understand me ? 
 
 Bion. I, sir ? ne'er a whit. 
 
 Luc. And not a jot of Tranio in your mouth ; 
 Tranio is chang'd into Lucentio. 
 
 Bion. The better for him ; 'Would I were so too , 
 
 7) Show, appearance. 
 9} Observed, 
 
 (8) Since.
 
 Scene II. 
 
 TAMING OP THE SHREW. 
 
 257 
 
 Tra. So would I, 'faith, boy, to have the next! Bap me here, knock me well, and knock me 
 
 wish after, soundly ? 
 
 That Lucentio indeed had Baptista's youngest 
 
 daughter. 
 But, sirrah, not for my sake, but your master's, 
 
 I advise 
 
 Why. 
 
 You use your manners discreetly in all kind of Your ancient, trusty, pleasant servant Grumio.' 
 
 And tell me now, sweet friend, what happy gale 
 Blows you to Padua here, from old Verona ? 
 Pet. Such wind as scatters young men through 
 the world, 
 
 companies : 
 
 When I am alone, wh}', then I am Tranio ; 
 But in all places else, your master Lucentio. 
 
 Luc. Tranio, let's go : 
 One thing more rests, that thyself execute ; 
 
 To make'one among these wooers : If thou ask me 
 
 why, 
 
 Sufficeth, my reasons are both good and weighty. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 1 Serv. My lord, you nod : you do not mind the 
 
 play. 
 
 Sly. Yes, by saint Jlnne, do I. A good matter, 
 surely ; Comes there any more of it ? 
 Page. My lord, ''tis but begun. 
 Sly. 'Tts a very excellent piece of work, madam 
 
 lady'; 'Would't were done ! 
 SCENE II. The same. 
 
 Before Hortensio's 
 
 house. Enter Petruchio and Grumio. 
 Pet. Verona, for a while I take my leave, 
 To see my friends in Padua ; but of all, 
 My best beloved and approved friend, 
 Hortensio ; and, I trow, this is his house : 
 Here, sirrah Grumio ; knock, I say. 
 
 Gru. Knock, sir ! whom should I knock ? is there 
 any man has rebuked your worship ? 
 Pet. Villain, I say, knock me here soundly. 
 Gni. Knock you here, sir ? why, sir, what am I, 
 sir, that I should knock you here, sir '! 
 
 Pet. Villain, I say, knock me at this gate, 
 And rap me well, or I'll knock your knave's pate. 
 Gru. My master is grown quarrelsome : I should 
 
 knock you first, 
 And then I know after who comes by the worst. 
 
 Pet. Will it nor. be ? 
 
 'Faith, sirrah, and you'll not knock, I'll wring it ; 
 I'll try how you can sol, fa, and sing it. 
 
 [He ivrings Grumio by lite ears. 
 Gru. Help, masters, help ! my master is mad. 
 Pet. Now, knock when I bid you : sirrah ! villain ! 
 
 Enter Hortensio. 
 
 Hor. How now ? what's the matter ? My old 
 friend Grumio ! and my good friend Petruchio! 
 How do you all at Verona ? 
 
 Pet. Signior Hortensio, come you to part the fray? 
 Con tutto U core bene trovato, may I say. 
 
 Hor. Jllla nostra casa bene vtnuto, 
 Mplto honorato signior mio Petruchio. 
 llise, Grumio, rise ; we will compound this quarrel. 
 Gru. Nay, 'tis no matter, what he 'leges' in Latin 
 if this be not a lawful cause for me to leave his 
 service, Look you, sir, he bid me knock him, and 
 rap him soundly, sir : Well, was it fit for a servant 
 to use his master so ; being, perhaps, (for aught I 
 see,) two and thirty, a pip out? 
 Whom, 'would to God, I had well knock'd at first, 
 Then had not Grumio come by the worst. 
 
 Pet. A senseless villain ! Good Hortensio, 
 I bade the rascal knock upon your gate. 
 And could not get him for my heart to do it. 
 
 Gru. Knock at the gate ? O heavens ! 
 Spake you not these words plain, Sirrah, knock 
 me here, 
 
 (I) Alleges. (2) Few words. 
 
 (3) See the story, Wo. 39. of A Tlwusand A*o- 
 frife Things,' 
 
 And come you now with knocking at the gate ? 
 Pet. Sirrah, be gone, or talk not, I advise you. 
 Hor. Petruchio, patience ; I am Grumio's pledge: 
 r hy, this is a heavy chance 'twixthim and you ; 
 
 To seek their fortunes further than at home, 
 Where small experience grows. But in a few,* 
 Signior Hortensio, thus it stands with me : 
 Antonio, my father, is deceas'd ; 
 And I have thrust myself into this maze, 
 Haply to wive, and thrive, as best I may : 
 Crowns in my purse I have, and goods at home, 
 And so am come abroad to see the world. 
 
 Hor. Petruchio, shall I then come roundly to 
 
 thee, 
 
 And wish thee to a shrewd ill-favour'd wife ? 
 Thou'dst thank me but a little for my counsel : 
 And yet I'll promise thee she shall be rich, 
 And very rich : but thou'rt too much my friend, 
 And I'll not wish thee to her. 
 
 Pet. Signior Hortensio, 'twixt such friends as we, 
 Few words suffice : and, therefore, if thou know 
 One rich enough to be Petruchio's wife, 
 (As wealth is burthen of my wooing dance,) 
 Be she as foul as was Florentius' love, 1 
 As old as Sybil, and as curst and shrewd 
 As Socrates' Xantippe, or a worse, 
 She moves me not, or not removes, at least, 
 Affection's edge in me ; were she as rough 
 As are the welling Adriatic seas : 
 I come to wive it wealthily in Padua ; 
 If wealthily, then happily in Padua. 
 
 Gru. Nay, look you ? sir, he tells you flatly what 
 his mind is: Why, give him gold enough, and 
 marry him to a puppet, or an aglet-baby ;* or an 
 old trot with ne'er a tooth in her head, though she 
 have as many diseases as two and fifty horses : why, 
 nothing comes amiss, so money comes withal. 
 
 Hor. Petruchio, since we have stepp'd thus far in, 
 I will continue that I broach'd in jest. 
 I can, Petruchio, help thee to a wife 
 With wealth enough, and young, and beauteous ; 
 Brought up, as best becomes a gentlewoman : 
 Her only fault (and that is faults enough,) 
 j Is, that she is intolerably curst, 
 And shrewd, and froward ; so beyond all measure, 
 That, were my state far worser than it is, 
 I would not wed her for a mine of gold. 
 
 Pet. Hortensio, peace ; thou know'st not gold's 
 
 effect: 
 
 Tell me her father's name, and 'tis enough ; 
 For I will board her, though she chide as loud 
 As thunder, when the clouds in autumn crack. 
 
 Hor. Her father is Baptista Minola, 
 An affable and courteous pentleman : 
 Her name is Katharina Minola, 
 Renown'd in Padua for her scolding tongue. 
 
 Pet. I know her father, though fknow not her ; 
 And he knew my deceased father well : 
 I will not sleep, Hortensio, till I see her; 
 And therefore let me be thus bold with you, 
 To give you over at this first encounter, 
 Unless you will accompany me thither. 
 
 Gru. I pray you, sir, let him go while the hu- 
 mour lasts. 0' my word, an she knew him as well 
 as I do, she would think scolding would do little 
 
 (4) A small image on the tag of lace, 
 
 IX
 
 258 
 
 TAMING OF THE SHREW, 
 
 ActL 
 
 good upon him : She may, perhaps, call him halfl So shall I no whit be behind in duty 
 a score knaves, or so : why, that's nothing ; an he To fair Bianca, so belov'd of me. 
 begin once, he'll rail in his rope-tricks. 1 I'll tell Gre. Belov'd of me, and that my deeds shall 
 you what, sir, an she stand 2 him but a little, he 
 will throw a figure in her face, and so disfigure her 
 with it, that she shall have no more eyes to see 
 withal than a cat : you know him not, sir. 
 Hor. Tarry, Petruchio, I must go with thee 
 
 For in Baptista's keep 3 my treasure is : 
 He hath the jewel of my life in hold, 
 His youngest daughter, beautiful Bianca ; 
 And her withholds from me, and other more 
 Suitors to her, and rivals in my love : 
 Supposing it a thing impossible 
 (For those defects I have before rehears'd,) 
 That ever Katharina will be woo'd, 
 Therefore this order 4 hath Baptists ta'en ; 
 That none shall have access unto Bianca, 
 Till Katharine the curst have got a husband. 
 
 Gni. Katharine the curst ! 
 A title for a maid, of all titles the worst. 
 
 Hor. Now shall my friend Petruchio do me grace ; 
 And offer me, disguis'd in sober robes, 
 To old Baptista as a schoolmaster 
 Well seen 5 in music ? to instruct Bianca : 
 That so I may by this device, at least, 
 Have leave and leisure to make love to her, 
 And, unsuspected, court her by herself. 
 
 Enter Gremio ; with him Lucentio disguised, with 
 books under his arm. 
 
 Gru. Here's no knavery ! See ; to beguile the 
 old folks, how the young folks lay their heads to- 
 gether ! Master, master, look about you : \Vho 
 goes there ? ha ! 
 
 Hor. Peace, Grumio ; 'tis the rival of my love : 
 Petruchio, stand by a while. 
 
 Gru. A proper stripling, and an amorous ! 
 
 [They retire. 
 
 Gre. O, very well ; I have perus'd the note. 
 Hark you, sir ; I'll have them very fairly bound : 
 All books of love, see that at any hand ; e 
 And see you read no other lectures to her : 
 You understand me : Over and beside 
 Signior Baptista's liberality, 
 I'll mend it with a largess : ' Take your papers too, 
 And let me have them very well perfum'd ; 
 For she is sweeter than perfume itself, 
 To whom they go. What will you read to her ? 
 
 Luc. Whate'er I read to her, I'll plead for you, 
 As for my patron (stand you so assur'd,) 
 As firmly as yourself were still in place : 
 Yea, and (perhaps) with more successful words 
 Than you, unless yo_u were a scholar, sir. 
 
 Gre. this learning ! what a thing it is ! 
 
 Gru. O this woodcock ! what an ass it is ! 
 
 Pet. Peace, sirrah. 
 
 Hor. Grumio, mum! God save you, signior 
 Gremio ! 
 
 Gre. And you're well met, signior Hortensio. 
 
 Trow you, 
 
 Whither I am going ? To Baptista Minola. 
 I promis'd to inquire carefully 
 About a schoolmaster for fair Bianca : 
 And, by good fortune, I have lighted well 
 On this young man ; lor learning, and behaviour, 
 Fit for her turn ; well read in poetry, 
 And other books, good ones, I warrant you. 
 
 Hor. 'Tis well : and I have met a gentleman, 
 Hath promis'd me to help me to another, 
 A fine musician to instruct our mistress ; 
 
 (1) Abusive language. 
 (3) Cuitody, 
 
 J 2 ) 
 
 w 
 
 Withstand. 
 These measure!, 
 
 prove. 
 
 Gru. And that his bags shall prove. [Aside. 
 
 Hnr. Gremio, 'tis now no time to vent our love 
 Listen to me, and if you speak me fair, 
 I'll tell you news indifferent good for either. 
 Here is a gentleman, whom by chance I met, 
 Upon agreement from us to his liking, 
 Will undertake to woo curst Katharine ; 
 Yea, and to marry her, if her dowry please. 
 
 Gre. So said, so done, is well : 
 Hortensio, have you told him all her faults ? 
 
 Pet. I know, she is an irksome brawling scold ; 
 If that be all, masters, I hear no harm. 
 
 Gre. No, say'st me so, friend ? What country- 
 man ? 
 
 Pet. Born in Verona, old Antonio's son : 
 My father dead, my fortune lives for me ; 
 And I do hope good days, and long, to see. 
 
 Gre. O, sir, such a life, with such a wife, were 
 
 strange : 
 
 But, if you have a stomach, to't, o' God's name ; 
 You shall have me assisting you in all. 
 But will you woo this wild cat? 
 
 Pet. ' Will I live ? 
 
 Gru. Will he woo her ? ay, or I'll hang her. 
 
 [Aside. 
 
 Pet. Why came I hither, but to that intent ? 
 Think you, a little din ran daunt mine ears ? 
 Have I not in my time heard lions roar ? 
 Have I not heard the sea, puff'd up with winds, 
 Rage like an anprry boar, chafed with sweat ? 
 Have I not heard creat ordnance in the field, 
 And heaven's artillery thunder in the skies ? 
 Have I not in a pitched battle heard 
 Loud 'larums, neighing steeds, and trumpets'clang? 
 And do_ you tell me of a woman's tongue ; 
 That gives not half so great a blow to the ear, 
 As will a chesnut in a farmer's fire ? 
 Tush! tush! fear boys with bugs.* 
 
 Grjt. For he fears none. 
 
 [Aside. 
 
 Gre. Hortensio, hark ! 
 This gentleman is happily arriv'd, 
 Mv mind presumes, for his own good, and yours. 
 
 "Hor. I promis'd, we would be contributors, 
 And bear his charge of wooing, whatsoe'er. 
 
 Gre. And so we will ; provided, that he win her. 
 
 Gnu I would, I were as t sure of a good dinner. 
 
 [Aside. 
 
 \Enter Tranio, bravely apparelled; and Biondello. 
 
 Tra. Gentlemen, God save you ! If I may be bold, 
 Tell me, I beseech you, which is the readiest way 
 To the house of signior Baptista Minola? 
 
 Gre. He that has the two fair daughters : is't 
 [Aside to Tranio.] he you mean ? 
 
 Tra. Even he. Biondello ! 
 
 Gre. Hark you, sir ; You mean not her to 
 
 Tra. Perhaps, him and her, sir; What have 
 you to do? 
 
 Pet. Not her that chides, sir, at any hand, I pray. 
 
 Tra. I love no chiders, sir : Biondello, let's 
 away. 
 
 Luc. Well begun, Tranio,- [Aside. 
 
 Hor. Sir, a word ere you go 
 Are you a suitor to the maid you talk of, yea, 
 or no? 
 
 Tra. An if I be, sir, is it any offence ? 
 
 (5) Versed. (6) Rate. (7) Present. 
 (8) Fright boys with bug-bears. 

 
 Scent I. 
 
 TAMING OF THE SHREW. 
 
 259 
 
 Grt. No ; if. without more words, you will get) Kath. Of all thy suitors, here 1 charge thee, teU 
 
 you hence Whom thou lov'st best : see thou dissemble not. 
 
 Tra. Whv. sir. I nT, are not the streets as free! Bian. Believe me, sister, of all the men alive, 
 
 For me, as for you ? 1 L ne . ver y et b , e t lc J d that s P ecI , al face 
 
 Gre. ' But so is not she. 
 
 Tra. For what reason, I beseech you ? 
 
 Gre. For this reason, if you'll know, 
 
 That she's the choice love of sigriior Gremio. 
 
 Which 1 could fancy more than any other. 
 
 Kath. Minion, thou liest ; Is't not Hortensio? 
 
 Ulan. If you affect* him, sister, here I swear, 
 I'll plead for you myself, but you shall have him. 
 
 Do me th 
 Bapti 
 
 To whom my father is not all unknown ; 
 And, were his daughter fairer than she is, 
 She may more suitors have, and me for one. 
 Fair Leila's daughter had a thousand wooers ; 
 Then well one niore may fair Bianca have : 
 And so she shall ; Lucentio shall make one, 
 Though Paris came, in hope to speed alone. 
 
 Grt. What ! this gentleman will out-talk us all. 
 Luc. Sir, give him head ; I know, he'll prove a 
 
 jade. 
 
 Pet. Hortensio, to what end arc a'.l these words ? 
 Ilor. Sir, let me be so bold, as to ask you, 
 Did you yet ever see Baptista's daughter ? 
 
 Tra. No, sir ; but hear I do, that he hath two ; 
 The one as famous for a scolding tongue, 
 As is the other for beauteous modesty. 
 Pet. Sir, sir, the first's for me ; let. her <ro by. 
 Gre. Yea, leave that labour to great Hercules ; 
 And let it be more than Alcides' twelve. 
 
 Pet . Sir, understand you this of me, in sooth ; 
 The youngest daughter," whom you hearken for, 
 Her 'father keeps from all access of suitors ; 
 And will not promise her to any man, 
 Until the elder sister first be wetl : 
 The younger then is free, and not before. 
 
 Tra. If it be so, sir, that you are the man 
 Must stead us all, and me arnon^ the rest ; 
 An if you break the ice, and do this feat, 
 Achieve the elder, set the younger free 
 For our access, whose hap shall be to have her, 
 Will not so graceless be, to be Migrate. 1 
 
 Hor. Sir, you say well, and well you do conceive ; 
 And since you do profess to be a s'uitor, 
 You must, "as we do, gratify this 1 gentleman, 
 To whom we all rest generally beholden. 
 
 Tra. Sir, I shall not be slack : in sign whereof, 
 Please ye we may contrive this afternoon, 
 And quaff carouses to our mistress' health ; 
 And do as adversaries do in law, 
 Strive miehtily, but eat and drink as friends. 
 Gru. Blon.'O excellent motion! Fellowj, 2 let's 
 
 begone. 
 
 Hor. The motion's good indeed, and be it so ; 
 Petruchio, I shall be your ben tenuio. [Exeunt 
 
 ACT II. 
 
 SC.YE I. The. same. *1 room in Baplista's 
 house. Enter Katharina and Bianca. 
 
 Bum. Good sistet^~ wrong me not, nor wrong 
 
 yourself, 
 
 To make a bondmaid and a slave of me ; 
 That I disdain : but for these other ^awds,' 
 Unbind my hands, I'll pull them off'myself, 
 Yea, all my raiment, to my petticoat ; 
 Or, what YOU will command me, will Ido, 
 So well I know my duty to my elders. 
 
 (1) Ungrateful. (2) Companions, 
 
 (S) Trifling ornaments, 
 
 I a , LJ1U11 J UU JCOl, , UII14 1IW IV I ! I"- 1 *-*-! s 
 
 ou have but jested with me all this while ; 
 
 pr'ythee, sister Kate, untie my hands. 
 
 Kath. If that be jest, then all the rest was BO. 
 
 [Strikes her .. 
 
 Enter Baptista. 
 
 Bap. Why, how now, dame! whence grows 
 
 this insolence ? 
 
 Jianca, stand aside ; poor girl ! she weeps : 
 *o ply thy needle ; meddle not with her. 
 "or shame, thou hilding* of a devilish spirit, 
 Vhydost thou wrong her that did ne'er wrong thee ? 
 Vhen did she cross thee with a bitter word? 
 
 Kath. Her silence flouts me, and I'll be reveng'd. 
 f Flies after Bianca. 
 
 Bap. What, in my sight? Bianca, get thee in. 
 [Exit Bianca. 
 
 Rath. Will you not suffer me ? Nay, now I see, 
 >he is your treasure, she must have a "husband? 
 
 must dance bare-foot on her wedding-day, 
 \nd, for your love to her, lead apes in hell. 
 Talk not "to me ; I will go sit and weep. 
 Till I can find occasion of revenge. [Exit Kath. 
 
 Bap. Was ever gentleman thus griev'd as 1 1 
 But who comes here ? 
 
 Enter Gremio 
 
 io, with Lucentio in the habit of a 
 mean man; Petruchio, with Hortensio as a mu- 
 sician; and Tranio, with Biondcllo bearing a 
 lute and looks. 
 
 Gre. Good-morrow, neighbour Baptista. 
 
 Bap. Good-morrow, neighbour Gremio : God 
 save you, gentlemen ! 
 
 Pet. And you, good sir ! Pray, have you not a 
 
 daughter 
 Call'd Katharina, fair, and virtuous ? 
 
 Bap. I have a daughter, sir, call'd Katharina. 
 
 Gre. You are too blunt, go to it orderly. 
 
 Pet. You wrong me, signior Gremio ; give me 
 
 leave. 
 
 [ am a gentleman of Verona, sir, 
 That, hearing of her beauty, and her wit, 
 Her affability, and bashful modesty, 
 Her wondrous qualities, and mild behaviour, 
 Am bold to show myself a forward guest 
 Within your house, to make mine eye the witness 
 Of that "report which I so oft have heard. 
 And, for an entrance to my entertainment, 
 I do present you with a man of minr, 
 
 [Presenting Hortensiff. 
 Cunning in music, and the mathematics, 
 To instruct her fully in those sciences, 
 Whereof, I know, she is not ignorant : 
 Accept of him, or else you do me wrong ; 
 His name is Licio, born in Mantua. 
 
 Bap. Y'ou're welcome, sir ; and he, for your 
 
 good sake : 
 
 But for my daughter Katharine, this I know, 
 She is not for your turn, the more my grief. 
 
 Pet. I see, you do not mean to part with her ; 
 
 (4) Love, 
 
 (5) A worthless woman,
 
 i50 
 
 TAMING OF THE SHREW. 
 
 Adit 
 
 Or else you like not of my company. 
 
 Bap. Mistake me not, I speak but as I find. 
 Whence are you, sir? what may I call your name? 
 
 Pet. Eetruchio is my name ; "Antonio's son, 
 A man well known throughout all Italy. 
 
 Bap. I know him well : you are welcome for his 
 sake. 
 
 Gre. Saving your tale ? Petruchio, I pray, 
 Let us, that are poor petitioners, speak too : 
 Baccate P you are marvellous forward. 
 
 Pet. O, pardon me, signior Grcmio ; I would fain 
 be doing. 
 
 Gre. I doubt it not, sir ; but you will curse your 
 
 wooing. 
 
 Neighbour, this is a gift very grateful, I am sure ol 
 it. To express the like kindness myself, that have 
 been more kindly beholden to you than any, I freely 
 give unto you this young scholar, [Presenting Lu- 
 cenlio.] that hath been long studying at Rheims; 
 as cunning in Greek, Latin, and other languages, 
 as the other in music and mathematics : his name 
 is Cambio ; pray, accept his service. 
 
 Bap. A thousand thanks, signior Gremio : wel- 
 come, good Cambio. But, gentle sir, [7'oTranio.] 
 methinks you walk like a stranger ; May I be so 
 bold to know the cause of your coming? 
 
 Tra. Pardon me, sir, the boldness is mine own ; 
 That, being a stranger in this city here, 
 Do make myself a suitor to your daughter, 
 Unto Bianca, fair, and virtuous. 
 Nor is your firm resolve unknown to me, 
 In the preferment of the eldest sister : 
 This liberty is all that I request, 
 That, upon knowledge of my parentage, 
 I may have welcome 'mongst the rest that woo, 
 And free access and favour as the rest. 
 And, toward the education of your daughters, 
 I here bestow a simple instrument, 
 And this small packet of Greek and Latin books : 
 If you accept them, then their worth is great. 
 
 Bap. Lucentio is your name? of whence, I 
 pray? 
 
 Tra. Of Pisa, sir; son to Vincentio. 
 
 Bap. A mighty man of Pisa ; by report 
 1 know him well : you are very welcome, sir. 
 Take you [To Hor.] the lute, and you [To Luc.] 
 
 the set of books, 
 
 You shall go see your pupils presently. 
 Holla, within ! 
 
 Enter a Servant. 
 Sirrah, lead 
 These gentlemen to my daushters ; and tell them 
 
 both, 
 
 These are their tutors : bid them tisn them well. 
 [Exit Servant, with, Hortcnsio, Lucentio, and 
 
 Biondello. 
 
 We will go walk a little in the orchard, 
 And then to dinner : You are passing welcome, 
 And so I pray you all to think yourselves. 
 
 Ptt. Signior Baptista, my business asketh haste, 
 And every day I cannot come to wop. 
 You knew my father well ; and in him, me, 
 Left solely heir to all his lands and goods, 
 Which I have better'd rather than decreas'd : 
 Then tell me, if I get your daughter's love, 
 What dowry shall f have with her to wife ? 
 
 Bap. After my death, the one half of my lands : 
 And, in possession, twenty thousand crowns. 
 
 Pet . And, for that dowry, I'll assure her of 
 
 (1) A proYerbial exclamation then in use. 
 (2J A fret in music is the stop which causes or 
 reguUtea the vibration of the string. 
 
 Her widowhood, be it that she survive me, 
 In all my lands and leases whatsoever : 
 Let specialties be therefore drawn between us, 
 That covenants may be kept on either hand. 
 
 Bap. Ay, when the special thing is well obtain'd, 
 This is, her love ; for that is alfin all. 
 
 Pet. Why, that is nothing ; for I tell you, father, 
 I am as peremptory as she proud-minded ; 
 And where two raging fires meet together, 
 They do consume the thing that feeds their fury : 
 Though little fire grows great with little wind, 
 Yet extreme gusts will blow out fire and all : 
 So I to her, and so she yields to me : 
 For I am rough, and woo not like a babe. 
 
 Bap. Well may'st thou woo, and happy be thy 
 
 speed ! 
 But be thou arm'd for some unhappy words. 
 
 Pet. Ay, to the proof; as mountains are for winds, 
 That shake not, though they blow perpetually. 
 
 Re-enter Hortensio, with his head broken. 
 
 Bap. How now, my friend ? why dost thou look 
 so pale ? 
 
 Hor. For fear, I promise you, if I look pale. 
 
 Bap. What, will my daughter prove a good mu- 
 sician ? 
 
 Hor. I think, she'll sooner prove a soldier ; 
 Iron may hold with her, but never lutes. 
 
 Bap. Why, then thou canst not break her to tlie 
 lute ? 
 
 Hor. Why, no ; for she hath broke the lute to me. 
 I did but tell her, she mistook her frets, 2 
 And bow'd her hand to teach her fingering; 
 When, with a most impatient devilish spirit, 
 Frtls, call you these 'I quoth she : PU fume u-itk 
 
 them : 
 
 And, with that word, she struck me on the head, 
 And through the instrument my pate made way ; 
 And there I stood amazed for a while, 
 As on a pillory, looking through the lute : 
 While she did call me, rascal fiddler, 
 And hvangHng Jack; 3 with twenty such vile 
 
 terms, 
 As she had studied to misuse me so. 
 
 Pet. Now, by the world, it is a lusty wench ; 
 I love her ten times more than e'er I did : 
 0, how I long to have some chat with her ! 
 
 Bap. Well, go with me, and be not so discomfited : 
 Proceed in practice with my younger daughter ; 
 She's apt to learn, and thankful for good turns. 
 Signior Petruchio, will you go with us ; 
 Or shall I send my daughter Kate to you ? 
 
 Pet. I pray you do ; I will attend her here, 
 
 [Exe. Bap. Gre. Tra. anil Hor. 
 And woo her with some spirit when she comes. 
 Say, that she rail ; Why, then I'll tell her plain, 
 She sings as sweetly as a nightingale : 
 Say, that she frown ; I'll say. she looks as clear 
 As morning roses newly wash'd with dew : 
 Say, she be mute, and will not speak a word ; 
 Then I'll commend her volubility, 
 And say she uttereth piercing eloquence : 
 If she clo bid me pack, I'll give her thanks, 
 As though she bid me stay by her a week ; 
 [f she deny to wed, I'll crave the day 
 When I shall ask the banns, and when be married : 
 But here she comes ; and now, Petruchio, speak. 
 
 Enter Katharina. 
 Good morrow, Kate ; for that's your name, I hear. 
 Kath. Well have you heard, but something hard 
 of hearing ; 
 
 (3) Paltry musician.
 
 SetM 1. 
 
 TAMING OF THE SHREW. 
 
 JMJ1 
 
 They Call me Katharine, that do talk of me. 
 
 Pet. You lie, in faith ; for you are call'd plain 
 
 Kate, 
 
 And bonny Kate, and sometimes Kate the curst ; 
 But Kate, the prettiest Kate in Christendom, 
 Kate of Kate-hall, my super-dainty Kate, 
 For dainties are all cates : and therefore, Kate, 
 Take this of me. Kate of my consolation ; 
 Hearing thy mildness prais'd in every town, 
 Thy virtues spoke of, and thy beauty sounded, 
 (Yet not so deeply as to thee belongs,) 
 Myself am mov'd to woo thee for my wife. 
 
 Kath. Mov'd ! in good time : let him that mov'd 
 
 you hither, 
 
 Remove you hence : I knew you at the first, 
 You were a moveable. 
 
 Pet. Why. what's a moveable ? 
 
 Kath. A joint-stool. 
 
 Pet. Thou hast hit it : come, sit on me. 
 
 Kath. Asses are made to bear, and so are you. 
 
 Pet. Women are made to bear, and so are you. 
 
 Kath. No such jade, sir, as you, if me you mean. 
 
 Pet. Alas, good Kate ! I will not burden thee : 
 For, knowing: thee to be but young and light, 
 
 Kath. Too light for such a swain as you to catch ; 
 And yet as heavy as my weight should be. 
 
 Pet. Should be? should buz. 
 
 Kalh. Well ta'en, and like a buzzard. 
 
 Pet. O, slow-wing'd turtle ! shall a buzzard take 
 thee? 
 
 Kath. Ay, for a turtle ; as he takes a buzzard. 
 
 Pet. Come, come, you wasp ; i'faith, you are too 
 angry. 
 
 Kath. If I be waspish, best beware my sting. 
 
 Pet. My remedy is then, to pluck it out. 
 
 Kath. Ay, if the fool could find it where it lies. 
 
 Pet. Who knows not where a wasp doth wear 
 
 his sting ? 
 In his tail. 
 
 Kath. In his tongue. 
 
 Pet. Whose tongue? 
 
 Kath. Yours, if you talk of tails ; and so fare- 
 well. 
 
 Pet. What, with my tongue in your tail ? nay, 
 
 come again, 
 Good Kate : I am a gentleman. 
 
 Kath. That I'll try. 
 
 [Striking him. 
 
 Pet. I swear I'll cuff you, if you strike again. 
 
 Kath. So may you lose your arms : 
 If you strike me, you are no gentleman . 
 And if no gentleman, why, then no arms. 
 
 Pet . A herald, Kate ? O, put me in thy books. 
 
 Kalh. What is your crest ? a coxcomb ? 
 
 Pet. A combless cock, so Kate will be my hen. 
 
 Kath. No cock of mine, you crow too like a 
 craven. 1 
 
 Pet. Nay, come, Kate, come ; you must not look 
 so sour. 
 
 Kath. It is my fashion, when I see a crab. 
 
 Pet. Why, here's no crab ; and therefore look 
 not sour. 
 
 Kath. There is, there is. 
 
 Pet. Then show it me. 
 
 Kath. Had I a glass, I would. 
 
 Pet. What, you mean my face ? 
 
 Kath. Well aim'd of* such a young one. 
 
 Pet. Now, by Saint George, I am too young for 
 you. 
 
 Kath. Yet you are wither'd. 
 
 Pet. 'Tis with cares. 
 
 Kath. I care not. 
 
 (1) A degenerate cock. (2) By. 
 
 Pel . Nay, hear you, Kate : in sooth, you 'scape 
 not so. 
 
 Kath. I chafe you, if I tarry ; let me go. 
 
 Pet. No, not a whit ; I find you passing gentle. 
 'Twas told me, you were rough, and coy, and auHen, 
 And now I find report a very liar; 
 For thou art pleasant, gamesome, passing cour 
 
 teous ; 
 
 B ut slow in speech, yet sweet as spring-time flowers : 
 Thou canst not frown, thou canst not look askance, 
 Nor bite the lip, as angry wenches will \ 
 Nor hast thou pleasure to be cross in talk ; 
 But thou with mildness entertain'st thy wooers, 
 With gentle conference, soft and affable. 
 W r hy does the world report, that Kate doth limp ? 
 
 slanderous world ! Kate, like the hazle-twig, 
 Is straight and slender ; and as browri in hue 
 As hazle nuts, and sweeter than the kernels. 
 O, let me see thee walk : thou dost not halt. 
 
 Kath. Go, fool, and whom thou k^ep'st command. 
 
 Pet. Did ever Dian so become a grove, 
 As Kate this chamber with her princely gait? 
 0, be thou Dian, and let her be Kate ; 
 And then let Kat.e be chaste, and Dian sportful ! 
 
 KM. Where did you study all this goodly 
 speech ? 
 
 Pet. It is extempore, from my mother- wit. 
 
 Kath. A witty mother ! witless else her son. 
 
 Pet. Am I not wise ? 
 
 Kalh. Yes ; keep you warm. 
 
 Pet. Marry, so I mean, sweet Katharine, in thy 
 
 bed: 
 
 And therefore, setting all this chat aside, 
 Thus in plain terms : Your father hath consented 
 That you shall be my wife ; your dowry 'greed on ; 
 And, will you, nill you, I will marry you. 
 Now, Kate, I am a husband for your turn ; 
 For, by (his licrht, whereby I see thy beauty, 
 (Thy beauty, that doth make rue like thee well,) 
 Thou must be married to no man but me : 
 For I am he, am born to tame you, Kate ; 
 And bring you from a wild cat to a Kate 
 Conformable, as other household Kates. 
 Here comes your father : never make denial, 
 
 1 must and will have Katharine to my wife. 
 
 Re-enter Captista, Gremio, and Tranio. 
 
 Hap. Now, 
 
 Sigmor Petrurhio : How speed you with 
 My daughter / 
 
 Pet. How but well, sir ? how but well 7 
 
 It were impossible I should speed amiss. 
 
 Bap. Why, how now, daughter Katharine ? in 
 your dumps ? 
 
 Kath. Call you me daughter ? now I promise you, 
 You have show'd a tender fatherly regard, 
 To wish me wed to one half lunatic ; 
 A mad-cap ruffian, ;md a swearing Jack, 
 That thinks with oaths to face the matter out. 
 
 Pet. Father, 'tis thus, yourself and all the world, 
 That talk'd of her, have lalk'd amiss of her ; 
 If she be curst, it is for policy: 
 For she's not frowanl, but modest as the dove ; 
 She is not hot, but temperate as the morn ; 
 For patience she will prove a second Grissel ; 
 And Roman Lucrcce for her chastity: 
 And to conclude, we have 'greed so well toge 
 
 ther, 
 That upon Sunday is the wedding-day. 
 
 Kalh. I'll see thee huns'd on Sunday first. 
 
 Gre. Hark, Petruchio ! she says, she'll see thee 
 hane'd first. 
 
 Tra. Is this your speeding? nay, then, good 
 night our part !
 
 TAMING OF THE SHREW. 
 
 Jict in. 
 
 Pet. Be patient," gentlemen ; I choose her for 
 
 mvself ; 
 
 If she and 1 be pleas'd, what's that to you ? 
 'Tis bargain'd 'twixt us twain, being alone, 
 That she shall still be curst in company. 
 I tell you, 'tis incredible to believe 
 How much she loves me : O, the kindest Kate ! 
 She hung about my neck ; and kiss on kiss 
 She vied 1 so fast, protesting oath on oath, 
 That in a twink she won me to her love. 
 O, you are novices ! 'tis a world to see,'- 
 How tame, when men and women are alone, 
 A mcacock 3 wretch can make the curstest shrew. 
 Give me thy hand, Kate : I will unto Venice, 
 To buy apparel 'gainst the wedding-day : 
 Provide the feast, father, and bid the guests ; 
 I will be sure, my Katharine shall be fine. 
 
 Bap. I know not what to say : but give me your 
 
 hands ; 
 God send you joy, Petruchio ! 'tis a match. 
 
 Gre. Tra. Amen, say we ; we will be witnesses. 
 
 Pet. Father, and wife, and gentlemen, adieu ; 
 
 I will to Venice, Sunday comes apace : 
 
 We will have rings, and things, and line array; 
 And kiss me, Kate, we will be married o'Stinday. 
 [Exeunt Petruchio and K atharine, severally. 
 
 Gre. Was ever match clapp'd up so suddenly ? 
 
 Bap. Faith, gentlemen, now I play a merchant's 
 
 part, 
 And venture madly on a desperate mart. 
 
 Tra. 'Twas a commodity lay fretting by you : 
 'Twill bring you gain, or perish on the seas. 
 
 Bap. The gain I seek is quiet in the match. 
 
 Gre. No doubt, but he hath got ,1 quiet catch. 
 But now, Baptista, to your younger daughter ; 
 Now is the day we long have looked for ; 
 I am your neighbour, and was suitor first. 
 
 Tra. And I am one, that love Bianca more 
 Than words can witness,or your thoughts can gucs*. 
 
 Gre. Youngling! thou canst not love so dear as I. 
 
 Tra. Grey-beard ! thy love doth freeze. 
 
 Gre. B ut thine doth fry. 
 
 Skipper, stand back : 'tis age that nourishelh. 
 
 Tra. But youth, in ladies' eyes that flourisheth. 
 
 Bap. Content you, gentlemen ; I'll compound 
 
 this strife : 
 
 'Tis deeds, must win the prize ; and he, of both, 
 That can assure my daughter greatest dower, 
 Shall have Bianca's love. 
 Say, signior Gremio, what can you assure her ? 
 
 Gre. First, as you know, my house within the 
 
 city, 
 
 Is richly furnish'd with plate and gold ; 
 Basons, and ewers, to lave her dainty hands ; 
 My hangings all of Tyrian tapestry : 
 In ivory coffers I have stuff 'd my crowns ; 
 In cypress chests my arras, counterpoints,* 
 Costly apparel, tents, and canopies, 
 Fine linen, Turkey cushions boss'd with pearl, 
 Valance of Venice gold in needle-work, 
 Pewter and brass, and all things that belong 
 To house, or housekeeping : then, at my farm, 
 I have a hundred milch- kinc to the pail, 
 Six score fat oxen standing in my stalls, 
 And all things answerable to this portion. 
 Myself am struck in years, I must confess ; 
 Arid, if I die to-morrow, this is hers, 
 If, whilst I live, she will be only mine. 
 
 (1) To vie and revie were terms at cards now 
 superseded by the word brag. 
 (21 It is well worth seeing. 
 (3) A dastardly creature. 
 14} Coverings for beds 5 npw called counterpanes. 
 
 Tra. That only came well m Sir, list to me, 
 I am my father's heir, and only son : 
 If I may have your daughter to my wife, 
 I'll leave her houses three or four as good, 
 Within rich Pisa walls, as any one 
 Old signior Gremio has in Padua ; 
 Besides two thousand ducats by the year, 
 Of fruitful land, all which shall be her jointure. 
 What, have I pinch'd you, signior Gremio ? 
 
 Gre. Two thousand ducats by the year, of land ! 
 My land amounts not to so much in all : 
 That she shall have ; besides an argosy, 5 
 
 That now is lying in Marseilles' road :"- 
 
 What, have I chok'd you with an argosy? 
 
 Tra. Gremio, 'tis known, my father hath no less 
 Than three great argosies ; besides two palliasses, 6 
 And twelve tight gallics: these I will assure her, 
 And twice as much, whate'cr thou on'er'st next. 
 
 Gre. Nay, I have oficr'd all, I have no more ; 
 And she can have no more than all I have ; 
 If von lite me, she shall have me and mine. 
 
 Tra. Why, then the maid is mine from all the 
 
 world, 
 By your firm promise ; Gremio is out-vied. 
 
 Bap. I must confess, your ofirr is the best; 
 And, let your father make her the assurance, 
 She is your own ; else, you muFt pardon me : 
 If vou should die before him, whcre's her dower ? 
 
 Tra. That's but a cavil ; he is old, I young. 
 
 Gre. And may not young men die, as well as old ? 
 
 Bap. Well, gentlemen, 
 
 I am thus resolv'd : On Sunday next you know, 
 My daughter Katharine is to be married : 
 Now, on the Sunday following, shall Bianea 
 Be bride to you, if you make this assurance ; 
 If riot, to signior Gremio : 
 And so I take my leave, and thank you both, f Ex. 
 
 Gre. Adieu, good neighbour. Now I fear thee 
 
 not ; 
 
 Sirrah, young gamester, your father were a fool 
 To give thee all, and, in his waning age, 
 Set loot under thy table : Tut ! a toy ! 
 An old Italian fox is not so kind, my boy. [Exit. 
 
 Tra. A vengeance on your crafty witherd hide ! 
 Yet I have faced it with a card of ten. * 
 'Tis in my head to do my master good : 
 I see no reason, but suppos'd Lucentio 
 Must get a father, call'd suppos'd Vinccntio ; 
 And that's a wonder: fathers, commonly, 
 Do get their children ; but, in this case "of wooing, 
 A child shall get a sire, if I fail not of my cunninsr. 
 
 [Exit. 
 
 ACT III. 
 
 SCENE I. ? rcont in Baplisla's house. Enter 
 Lucentio, Hortensio, and Bianea. 
 
 Lite. Fiddler, forbear; you grow too forward, sir: 
 Have you so soon forgot'the entertainment 
 Her sister Katharine welccm'd you withal ? 
 
 Hor. But, wrangling pedant, this is 
 The patroness of heavenly harmony : 
 Then give me leave to have prerogative ; 
 And when in music we haye spent an hour, 
 Your lecture shall have leisure for as much. 
 
 Luc. Preposterous ass ! that never read so far 
 To know the cause why music was ordain'd ! 
 
 (5) A large m-chant-ship. 
 
 (6) A vessel oi burthen worked both with sails 
 and oars. 
 
 (7) The highest card, .
 
 Scene II. 
 
 TAMING OF THE SHREW. 
 
 263 
 
 Was it not, to refresh the miiid of man, 
 After his studies, or his usual pain ? 
 Then give me leave to read philosophy, 
 And. while I pause, serve in your harmony. 
 
 Hor. Sirrah, I will not-bear these braves of thine. 
 
 Bian. Why, gentlemen, you do me double wrong, 
 To strive for that which resteth in my choice : 
 I am no breechinx scholar 1 in the schools ; 
 I'll not be tied to hours, nor 'pointed times, 
 But learn my lessons as I please myself. 
 And, to cut off all strife, here sit we down : 
 Take you your instrument, play you the whiles ; 
 His lecture will he done ere you havn tun'd. 
 
 Hor. You'll leave his lecture when I am in tune ? 
 [To Bianca. Hortensio retires. 
 
 Luc. That will be nnvcr ; tune your instrument. 
 
 Bian. Where left we last 1 
 
 Luc. Here, madam : - 
 Hac ibat Slmois ; hie est Sigeia ttlliis ; 
 Hie steterat Priami regix celsa senis. 
 
 Bian. Construe them. 
 
 Luc. Hac ibat, as I told you before, Simois, I 
 am Lucentio. kic cst, son unto Vincentio of Pisa, 
 Sigeia tellu.i, dNsjuiscd thus to sr,et your love ; 
 Hie stelerat, and that Lucentio that comes a woo- 
 ing, Priaini, is my man Tranio, re^ia, bearing 
 my port, celsa senis, that we might beguile the 
 old pantnloon. 2 
 
 Hor. Madam, my iasirument's in tune. 
 
 Bian. Lei's hear ; [Hortensio plays. 
 
 tie ! the treble jars. 
 
 Lvc. Spit in the hole, man, and tune again. 
 fiiav. New let me see if I can construe it : Hac 
 ibat Si Diets, I know you not ; hie est Sigeia tell us, 
 
 1 trust you not, Hie steterat Priami, take heed he 
 hear us not; regia, presume not; celsa senis, 
 
 A. re, to plead Horteniw>s passion ; 
 B mi, Bianca, take him for thy lord, 
 
 C faut, that loves with all affection ; 
 D sol re, one cliff, two notes nave I ; 
 E la mi, show pity, or I die. 
 Call you this gamut? tut! I like it not: 
 Old fashions please me best ; I am not so nice, 4 
 To change true rules for odd inventions. 
 
 Enter Servant. 
 
 Sen. Mistress, your father prays yon leave your 
 
 books, 
 
 And help to dress your sister's chamber up ; 
 You know, to-morrow is the wedding-day. 
 Bian. Farewell, sweet masters, both ; I must be 
 gone. [Exeunt Bianca and Servant. 
 
 Luc. 'Faith, mistress, then I have no cause to 
 stay. [Exit. 
 
 Har. But I have cause to pry into this pedant ; 
 Methinks he looks as though he were in love : 
 Yet if thy thoughts, Bianca, he so humble, 
 To ca?t thy wand'ring: eyes on every stale,* 
 Seize thee, that list: If once I find thee ranging, 
 Hortensio will be quit with thee by changing. 
 
 [Exit. 
 
 SCEJfE H.The name. Before BantHa's house. 
 Enter Baptista, Gremio, Tranio, Katharina, Bi- 
 anca, Lucentio, and attendants. 
 
 Bap. Sicmior Lucentio, [To Traruo.] this is the 
 
 'pointed day 
 
 That Katharine and Petruchio should be married, 
 And yet we hear not of our son-in-law : 
 What will be said ? what mockery will it be, 
 To want the bridegroom, when the priest attends 
 To speak the ceremonial rites of marriage ? 
 
 despair not. 
 
 Hot: Madam, 'tis now in tune. 
 Lvc. All but the base. 
 
 Hor. The base is right 
 
 jars. 
 
 How fiery and forward our pedant is ! 
 Now, for my life, the knave doth court iny love : 
 Petfasculr, 3 I'll watch you better yet. 
 
 Bian. In time I may believe, yet I mistrust. 
 LMC. Mistrust it not ; for, sure, <?Eacides 
 Wa AJEX, cali'd so from his grandfather. 
 Bian. I must believe my master; else, I promise 
 
 you, 
 
 I should be arguing still upon that doubt : 
 But let it rest. Now, Licio, to you : 
 Good masters, take it not unkindly, pray, 
 That I have been thus pleasant with you both. 
 Hor. You may go walk, [To Lucentio.] and 
 
 {rive me leave a while; 
 My lessons make no music in three parts. 
 
 Luc. Are you so formal, sir? well, I must wait, 
 And watch withal ; for, but I be deceiv'd, 
 Our fine musician groweth amorous. [Jlside. 
 
 Hor. Madam, before you touch the instrument, 
 To learn the order of my fingering, 
 I must begin with rudiments" of art : 
 To teach you gamut in a briefer sort, 
 More pleasant, pithy, and effectual, 
 Than hath been taught by any of my trade : 
 And there it is in writing, fairly drawn. 
 Bian. Why, I am past my gamut long ago. 
 Hor. Yet read the gamut of Hortensio. 
 Bian. [Reads.] Gamut / am, the ground of all 
 accord, 
 
 (1 ) No schoolboy, liable to be whipped, 
 
 (2) The old cully in Italian farces. 
 
 What says Lucentio to thjs shame of ours ? 
 Kath. No shame but mine : I must, forsooth, be 
 
 forc'd 
 
 ; 'tis ttetMefcBTO tfaftt fo P my hand, oppos'd against my heart, 
 unto a mad-pram'd rudesby, full of spleen ;" 
 
 _--.-_.-... Who woo'd in haste, and means to wed at leisure. 
 
 [ told you, I, he was a frantic fool, 
 [-lidinjr his bitter jests in blunt behaviour: 
 And. to be noted for a merry man, 
 Fle'll woo a thousand, 'point the day of marriage, 
 Make friends, invite, yes, and proclaim the. banns ; 
 Yet never means to wed where he hath wop'd. 
 Now must the world point at. poor Katharine, 
 And say, Lo, there is mad Petruchio's wife, 
 If it icmdd please him come and marry her. 
 Tra. Patience, good Katharine, and Baptista 
 too 
 
 Tnon my life, Petruchio means but well, 
 Whatever fortune stavs him from his word : 
 Though he be blunt, I know him passing wise ; 
 Though he be merrv, yet withal he's honest. 
 
 Kath. 'Would Katharine had never seen him 
 
 though ! 
 [Exit, weeping, followed by Bianca, and others. 
 
 Bap. Go, girl ; I cannot blame thee now to weep ; 
 For such an injury would vex a saint. 
 Much more a shrew of thy impatient humour. 
 
 Enter Biondello. 
 
 Bion. Master, master ! news, old news, and such 
 news as you never heard of! 
 
 Bap. Is it new and old too ? how may that be ? 
 
 Bion. Why, is it not news, to hear of Petruchio 1 s 
 coming ? 
 
 Bap. Is he come ? 
 
 (3) Pedant. (4) Fantastical. 
 
 (5) Bait, decoy, (6) Caprice, inconstancy.
 
 264 
 
 Bion. Why. no, sir. 
 
 Bap. What then? 
 
 Bion. He is coming. 
 
 Bap. When will he be here ? 
 
 Bion. When he stands where I am, and sees 
 you there. 
 
 Tra. But, say, what : To thine old news. 
 
 Bion. Why, Petruchio is coming, in a new ha 
 and an old jerkin ; a pair of old breeches, thricf 
 turned ; a pair of boots that have been candle-cases, 
 one buckled, another laced ; an old rusty sword 
 ta'en out of the town armoury, with a broken hilt, 
 and chapeless ; with two broken points : His horse 
 hipped with an old mothy saddle, the stirrups of nc 
 kindred : besides, possessed with th_e glanders, anc 
 like to mose in the chine ; troubled with the lampass. 
 infected with the fashions, 1 full of wind-galls, sped 
 with spavins, raied with the yellows, past cure 01 
 the fives, 2 stark spoil'd with the staggers, begnawn 
 with the bots ; swayed in the back, and shoulder- 
 shotten ; ne'er-legged before, and with a half- 
 checked bit, and a head-stall of sheep's leather : 
 which, being restrained to keep him from stum- 
 bling, hath been often burst, and now repaired with 
 knots : one girt six times pieced, and a woman's 
 crupper of velure, 3 which hath two letters for her 
 name, fairly set down in studs, and here and there 
 pieced with packthread. 
 
 Bap. Who comes with him ? 
 
 Bion. 0, sir, his lackey, for all the world capa- 
 risoned like the horse : with a linen stock" on one 
 leg, and a kersey boot-hose on the other, gartered 
 with a red and blue list : an old hat, and The hu- 
 mour of forty fancies pricked in't for a feather : 
 a monster, a Very monster in apparel ; and not like 
 a Christian footboy, or a gentleman's lackey. 
 
 Tra. 'Tis some odd humour pricks him to this 
 
 fashion ; 
 Yet oftentimes he goes but mean apparell'd. 
 
 Bap. I am glad he is come, nowsoc'cr he 
 comes. 
 
 Bion. Why, sir, he comes not. 
 
 Bap. Did* thou not say, he comes ? 
 
 Bion. Who? that Petruchio came ? 
 
 Bap. Ay, that Petruchio came. 
 
 Bion. No, sir ; I say, his horse comes with him 
 on his back. 
 
 Bap. Why, that's all one. 
 
 Bion. Nay, by Saint Jamy, I hold you a penny, 
 
 A horse and a man is more than one, and yet not 
 
 many. 
 
 Enter Petruchio and Grumio. 
 
 Pet. Come, where be these gallants ? who is at 
 home? 
 
 Bap. You are welcome, sir. 
 
 Pet. And yet I come not well. 
 
 Bap. And yet you halt not. 
 
 Tra. Not so well apparell'd 
 
 As I wish you were. 
 
 Pet. Were it better I should rush in thus. 
 But where is Kate ? where is my lovely bride ? 
 How does my father? Gentles, methinks you 
 
 frown: 
 
 And wherefore gaze this goodly company ; 
 As if they saw some wondrous monument, 
 Some comet, or unusual prodijry ? 
 
 Bap. Why, sir, you know, this is your wedding- 
 day : 
 First were we sad, fearing you would not come ; 
 
 TAMING OF THE SHREW. 
 
 Jet HI. 
 
 (1) Farcy. 
 (*>" 
 
 j Vives ; a distemper in horses little differing 
 from ti* strangles. 
 
 Now sadder, that you come so unprovided. 
 Fie ! doff this habit, shame to your estate, 
 An eye-sore to our solemn festival. 
 
 Tra. And tell us, what occasion of import 
 Hath all so long detain'd you from your wife, 
 And sent you hither so unlike yourself? 
 
 Pet. Tedious it were to tell, and harsh to hear : 
 Sufficeth ; I am come to keep my word, 
 Though in some part enforced to digress :* 
 Which, at more leisure, I will so excuse 
 As you shall well be satisfied withal. 
 But, where is Kate ? I stay too long from her ; 
 The morning wears, 'tis time we were at church. 
 
 Tra. See not your bride in these unrevercnt 
 
 robes ; 
 Go to my chamber, put on clothes of mine. 
 
 Pet. Not I, believe me ; thus I'll visit her. 
 
 Bap. But thus, I trust, you will not marry her. 
 
 Pet. Good sooth, even thus ; therefore have done 
 
 with words ; 
 
 To me she's married, not unto my clothes : 
 Could I repair what she will wear in me, 
 As I can change these poor accoutrements, 
 'Twere well for Kate, and better for myself. 
 But what a fool am I, to chat with you, 
 When I should bid good-morrow to my bride, 
 And seal the title with a lovely kiss ? 
 
 [Exeunt Petruchio, Grumio, and Biondello. 
 
 Tra. He hath some meaning in his mad attire : 
 We will persuade him, be it possible, 
 To put on better ere he go to church. 
 
 Bap. I'll after him, and see the event of this. 
 
 [Exit. 
 
 Tra. But, sir, to her love concerneth us to add 
 Her father's liking : Which to bring to pass, 
 As I before imparted to your worship, 
 [ am to get a man, whate'er he be, 
 It skills 6 not much : we'll fit him to our turn, 
 And he shall be Vincentio of Pisa ; 
 And make assurance, here in Padua, 
 C)f greater sums than I have promised. 
 So shall you quietlv enjoy your hope, 
 And marry sweet Bianca with consent. 
 
 Luc. Were it not that my fellow schoolmaster 
 Doth watch Bianca's steps so narrowly, 
 'Twere good, methinks, to steal our marriage ; 
 Which once perform'd, let all the world say no, 
 I'll keep mine own, despite of all the world. 
 
 Tra. That by degrees we mean to look into, 
 And watch our vantage in this business : 
 We'll over-reach the greybeard, Gremio, 
 The narrow-prying father, Minola ; 
 The quaint' musician, amorous Licio ; 
 All for my master's sake, Lucentio. 
 
 Re-enter Gremio. 
 
 Signior Gremio ! came you from the church? 
 Gre. As willingly as e'er I came from school. 
 Tra. And is the bride and bridegroom coming 
 
 home? 
 
 Gre. A bridegroom, say you ? 'tis a groom, in- 
 deed, 
 
 A grumbling groom, and that the girl shall find. 
 Tra. Curster than she ? why, 'tis impossible. 
 Gre. Why, he's a devil, a devil, a very fiend. 
 Tra. Why, she's a devil, a devil, the devil's dam, 
 Gre. Tut ! she's a lamb, a dove, a fool to him. 
 '11 tell you, sir Lucenlio ; When the priest 
 Should ask if Katharine should be his wife, 
 %, by gogs-wouns, quoth he ; and swore so loud, 
 
 f3) Velvet. (4) Stocking. 
 
 (5) i. e. To deviate from my promise. 
 
 (6) Matter?. (7) Strange.
 
 Setne I. 
 
 TAMING OF THE SHREW, 
 
 265 
 
 That all amaz'd, the priest let fall the book: 
 And, as he stpop'd again to take it up, 
 The mad-brain'd bridegroom took him such a cuff, 
 That down fell priest and book, and book and priest; 
 Now take them up, quoth he, if any liit. 
 
 Tra. What said the wench, when he arose again ? 
 
 Gre. Trembled and shook ; for why, he stamp'd, 
 
 and swore, 
 
 As if the vicar meant to cozen him. 
 But after many ceremonies done, 
 He calls for wine : *i health, quoth he ; as if 
 He had been aboard carousing to his mates 
 After a storm : QuafPd off the muscadel, 1 
 And threw the sops all in the sexton's face ; 
 Having no other reason, 
 But that his beard grew thin and hungerly, 
 And seem'd to ask him sops as ne was drinking. 
 This done, he took the bride about the neck ; 
 And kiss'd her lips wilh such a clamorous smack, 
 That, at the parting, all the church did echo. 
 I, seeing this, came thence for very shame ; 
 And after me, I know, the rout is coming : 
 Such a mad marriage never was before ; 
 Hark, hark ! I hear the minstrels play. [JUiuic. 
 
 Enter Petruchio, Katharina, Bianca, Baptista, 
 Hortensio, Grumio, and train. 
 
 Pet. Gentlemen and friends, I thank you for 
 
 your pains : 
 
 I know, you think to dine with me to-day, 
 And have prepar'd great store of wedding cheer ; 
 But so it is, my haste doth call me hence, 
 And therefore here I mean to take my leave. 
 
 Bap. Is't possible, you will away to-night ? ' 
 
 Pet. I must away to-day, before night come : 
 Make it no wonder ; if you knew my business, 
 You would entreat me rather go than stay. 
 And, honest company, I thank you all, 
 That have beheld me give away myself 
 To this most patient, sweet, and virtuous wife : 
 Dine with my father, drink a health to me ; 
 For I must hence, and farewell to you all. 
 
 Tra. Let us entreat you stay till after dinner. 
 
 Pet. It may not be. 
 
 Gre. Let me entreat you. 
 
 Pet. It cannot be. 
 
 Kath. Let me entreat you. 
 
 Pet. I am content. 
 
 Kath. Are you content to stay ? 
 
 Pet. I am content you shall entreat me stay ; 
 But yet not stay, entreat me how you can. 
 
 Kath. Now, if you love me, stay. 
 . Pet. Grumio, my horses. 
 
 Gru. Ay, sir, they be ready ; the oats have 
 eaten the horses. 
 
 Kath. Nay, then, 
 
 Do what thou canst, I will not go to-day ; 
 No, nor to-morrow, nor till I please myself. 
 The door is open, sir, there lies your way. 
 You may be jogging, w hiles your boots arc green ; 
 For me, I'll notte gone, till I please myself. 
 'Tis like, you'll prove a jolly surly groofn, 
 That take it on you at the first so roundly. 
 
 Pet. O, Kate, content thee; pr'vthee, be not 
 angry. 
 
 Kath. I wifl be anery ; What hast Ihou to do ? 
 Father, be quiet ; he shall stay my leisure. 
 
 Gre. Ay, marry, sir: now it begins to work. 
 
 Kath. Gentlemen, forward to the bridal dinner : 
 I see a woman may be made a fool, 
 
 (1) It was the custom for the company present 
 to drink wine immediately after the marriage- 
 ceremony. 
 
 : If she had not a spirit to resist. 
 
 Pet. They shall go forward, Kate, at thy com- 
 mand : 
 
 ; Obey the bride, you that attend on her : 
 i Go to the feast, revel and domineer, 
 | Carouse full measure to her maidenhead, 
 
 i Be mad and merry, or go hang yourselves ; 
 
 But for my bonny Kate, she must with me. 
 Nay, look not big, nor stamp, nor stare, nor fret; 
 I will be master of what is mine own : 
 She is my god"ds, my chattels ; she is my house, 
 My household-stufi; my field, my barn, 
 My horse, my ox, my ass, my any thing ; 
 And here she stands, touch her whoever dare ; 
 I'M bring my action on the proudest he 
 
 That stops my way in Padua. Grumio, 
 
 Draw forth thy weapon, we're beset with thieve* ; 
 
 Rescue thy mistress, if thou be a man : 
 
 Fear not, sweet wench, they shall not touch thee, 
 
 Kate; 
 I'll buckler thee against a million. 
 
 [Exeunt Petruchio, Katharine, and Grumio. 
 
 Bap. Nay, let them go, a couple of quiet ones. 
 
 Gre. Went they not quickly, I should die with 
 laughing. 
 
 Tra. Of all mad matches, never was the like ! 
 
 Luc. Mistress, what's your opinion of your sister? 
 
 Bian. That, being mad herself, she's madly 
 mated. * 
 
 Gre. I warrant him, Petruchio is Kated. 
 
 Bap. Neighbours and friends, though bride and 
 
 bridegroom wants 
 
 For to supply the places at the table, 
 You know, there wants no junkets 2 at the feast ; 
 Lucentio, you shall supply the bridegroom's place ; 
 And let Bianca take her sister's room. 
 
 Tra. Shall sweet Bianca practise how to bride it 7 
 
 Bap. She shall, Lucentio. Come, gentlemen, 
 let's go. [Exeunt. 
 
 ACT IV. 
 
 SCE.YE !.*! hall in Petruclrio's country hoiat. 
 Enter Grumio. 
 
 Gru. Fie, fie, on all tired jades ! on all mad 
 masters ! and all loul ways ! Was ever man so 
 beaten? was ever man so rayed? 3 was ever man 
 so weary? I am sent before to make a fire, and they 
 are coming after to warm them. Now, were not 
 I a little pot, and soon hot, my very lips might 
 freeze to my teeth, my tongue to the roof of my 
 mouth, my heart in my belly, ere I should come by 
 a fire to thaw me: ->-B ut I, "wilh blowing the fire, 
 shall warm mvself ; for, considering the weather, 
 a taller man than I will take cold. Holla, hoa ! 
 Curtis! 
 
 Enter Curtis. 
 
 Curt. Who is that, calls so coldly ? 
 
 Gru. A piece of ice: If thou doubt it, thou 
 may'st slide from my shoulder to my heel, with no 
 greater a run but my head and my" neck. A fire, 
 good Curti?. 
 
 Curt. Is my master and his wife coming, Grumio? 
 
 Gru. O, ay, Curtis, ay : and therefore fire, fire ; 
 cast on no water. 
 
 Curt. Is she so hot. a shrew as sh^'? reported ? 
 
 Gru. She was, good Curtis, before this frost : 
 but, thou know'st, winter tames man, woman, and 
 beast ; for it hath tamed mv old master, and my 
 new mistress, and myself, fellow Curtis. 
 
 (2) Delicacies. (3) Bewrayed, dirty. 
 
 2 L
 
 266 
 
 TAMING OF THE SHREW. 
 
 Jicl IF, 
 
 Curt. Away, you three-inch fool ! I am no beast. 
 
 Gru. Am I but three inches ? why, thy horn is 
 a foot ; and so long am I, at the least. But wilt 
 thou make a fire, or shall I complain on thee to our 
 mistress, whose hand (she being now at hand) thou 
 shall soon feel, to thy cold comfort, for being slow 
 in thy hot office. 
 
 Curt. I pr'ythee, good Grumio, tell me, How 
 goes the world ? 
 
 Gru. A cold world, Curtis, in every office but 
 thine ; and, therefore, fire : Do thy duty, and have 
 thy duty ; for my master and mistress are almost 
 frozen to death. 
 
 Curt. There's fire ready ; And therefore, good 
 Grumio, the news ? 
 
 Gru. Why, Jack boy / ho boy ! and as much 
 news as thou wilt. 
 
 Curt. Come, you are so full of conycatching : 
 
 Gru. Why, therefore, fire ; for I have caught ex- 
 treme cold. Where's the cook ? is supper ready, 
 the house trimmed, rushes strewed, cobwebs swept ; 
 the serving-men in their new fustian, their white 
 stockings, and every officer his wedding-garment 
 
 Gru. Call them forth. 
 
 Curt. Do you hear, ho ? you must meet my 
 master, to countenance my mistress. 
 
 Grit. Why, she hath a face of her own. 
 
 Curt. Who knows not that ? 
 
 Gru. Thou, it seems ; that callcst for company 
 to countenance her. 
 
 Curt. I call them forth to credit her. 
 
 Gru. Why, she comes to borrow nothing of them. 
 
 Enter several Servants. 
 
 JVaiA. Welcome home, Grumio. 
 
 Phil. How now, Grumio ? 
 
 Jos. What, Grumio ! 
 
 Nidi. Fellow Grumio ! 
 
 Nath. How now, old lad ? 
 
 Gru. Welcome, you ; how now, you ; what, 
 you ; fellow, you ; and thus much for greeting. 
 Now, my spruce companions, is all ready, and all 
 
 fhino-a tu>rit '? 
 
 hings neat 
 
 on ? Be the jacks fair within, the Jills fair without, 
 the carpets laid, and every thins; in order? 
 
 Curt. All ready ; And therefore, I pray thee, 
 news ? 
 
 Gru. First, know, my horse is tired ; my master 
 and mistress fallen out. 
 
 Curt. How? 
 
 Gru. Out of their saddles into the dirt ; Ant 
 thereby hangs a tale. 
 
 Curt. Let's ha't, good Grumio. 
 
 Gru. Lend thine ear. 
 
 Curt. Here. 
 
 Gru. There. [Sinking him. 
 
 master ? 
 
 All thing's is ready: How near is our 
 
 Gru. E'en at hand, alighted by this ; and there- 
 fore be not, Cock's passion, silence ! 1 hear 
 
 Curt. This is to feel a tale, not to hear a tale. 
 
 Gru. And_ therefore 'tis called, a sensible tale : 
 and this cuff was but to knock at your ear, and be- 
 seech listening. Now I begin: Imprimis, we came 
 
 down a foul hill, my mastsr ridin 
 tress : 
 
 Curt. Both on one horse ? 
 
 Gru. What's that to thee ? 
 
 Curt. Why, a horse. 
 
 behind my mis- 
 
 Gru. Tell thou the tale : 
 
 But hadst thou not 
 
 crossed me, thou shouldst have heard how her horse 
 fell, and she under her horse ; thou should'st have 
 heard, in how miry a place : how she was bcmoil- 
 ed : ' how he left her with the horse upon her ; how 
 he beat me because her horse stumbled ; how she 
 waded through the dirt to pluck him off me ; how 
 he swore ; how she prayed that never prayed be- 
 fore : how I cried ; how the horses ran away ; how 
 her bridle was burst; 2 how I lost my crupper ; 
 with many things of worthy memory ; which now 
 shall die in oblivion, and thou return unexperienced 
 to thy grave. 
 
 Curt. By this reckoning, he is more shrew than 
 she. 
 
 Gru. Ay: and that, thou and the proudest of 
 you all shall find, when he comes home. But what 
 talk I of this ? call forth Nathaniel, Joseph, Nich- 
 olas, Philip, Walter, Sugarsop, and the rest ; let 
 their heads be sleekly combed, their blue coats 
 brushed, and their garters of an indifferent 3 knit : 
 let them curtsey with their left legs ; and not pre- 
 
 my master. 
 
 Enter Petruchio and Katharina. 
 
 Pet. Where be these knaves ? What, no man at 
 
 door, 
 
 To hold my stirrup, nor to take rnv horse ? 
 Where is Nathaniel, Gregory, Philip ? 
 
 Ml Serv. Here, here, sir ; here, sir. 
 
 Pet. Here, sir ! here, sir ! here, sir ! here, sir ! 
 You logger-headed and unpolish'd grooms ! 
 What, no attendance ? no regard ? no duty? 
 Where is the foolish knave I sent before ? 
 
 Grit. Here, sir ; as foolish as I was before. 
 
 Pet. You peasant swain ! you whoreson malt- 
 horse drudge ! 
 
 Did I not bid thee meet me in the park, 
 And bring along these rascal knaves with thee ? 
 
 Gru. Nathaniel's coat, sir, was not fully made, 
 And Gabriel's pumps were all unpink'd i'the heel ; 
 There was no link* to colour Peter's hat, 
 And Walter's dagger was not come from sheathing: 
 There were none line, but Adam, Ralph, and Gre- 
 
 The rest were ragged, old, and beggarly ; 
 Yet, as they arc, here are they come to meet you. 
 Pet. Go, rascals, go, and letch my supper in. 
 [Exeunt some of the Servants, 
 Where 1,1 the life that late I led f Sings. 
 
 Where are those - Sit down, Kate, and welcome! 
 Soud, soud, soud, soud ! s 
 
 Re-enter Servants, icith supper. 
 Why, when, I say ? Nay, good sweet Kate, be 
 
 merry 
 
 sume to touch a hair of my master's horse-tail, till 
 
 they kiss their hands. 
 Curt. They are. 
 
 Are they all ready ? 
 
 (1) Bemired. (2) Broken. 
 
 (3) Not different one from the other. 
 
 (4) A torch of pitchr 
 
 Off with my boots, you rogues, you villains ; When ? 
 
 It was the friar of orders grey, [Siri-s. 
 
 Jls he forth walked on his way : 
 Out, out, you rogue ! you pluck my foot awry 
 
 Take that, and mend the plucking off the other 
 
 [Strikes him. 
 
 Be merry, Kate : Some water, here ; what, ho! 
 Where's my spaniel Troilus ? Sirrah, get you 
 
 hence, 
 And bid my cousin Ferdinand come hither :- 
 
 [Exit Servant. 
 One, Kate, that you must kiss, and be acquainted 
 with. 
 
 A word coined by Shakspeare to express the 
 jioise made by a person heated and fatigued.
 
 Scene II. 
 
 TAMING OF THE SHREW. 
 
 267 
 
 Where are my slippers ? Shall I have some water ? 
 
 [wJ bason is presented to him. 
 
 Come, Kate, and wash, and welcome heartily : 
 
 [Servant lets the ewer fall. 
 
 You whoreson villain ! will you let it fall ? 
 
 [Strikes him. 
 
 Kath. Patience, I pray you; 'twas a fault un- 
 willing. 
 
 Pet. A whoreson, beetle-headed, fiap-car'd knave '. 
 Come, Kate, sit down ; I know you have a stomach. 
 Will you give thanks, sweet Kate ; or else shall I ? 
 Whaiia this? mutton / 
 1 Serv. Ay. 
 
 Pet. Who hrought it ? 
 
 1 ST. I. 
 
 Pet. 'Tis burnt ; and so is all the meat : 
 "\Vhat dogs arc these ? Where is the rascal cook ? 
 How durst you, villains, bring it from the dresser, 
 And serve it thus to me that love it not? 
 There, take it to you, trenchers, cups, and all : 
 
 [Tkrmcs the meat, fyc. about the stage. 
 You heedless jollhcads, and unraanner'd slaves? 
 What, do you grumble ? I'll be with you straight 
 
 Kath. I pray you, husband, be not so disquiet ; 
 The meat was" well, if you were so contented. 
 
 Pet. I tell thee, Kate, 'twas burnt and dried 
 
 away ; 
 
 And I expressly am forbid to touch it, 
 For it engenders choler, planteth anger ; 
 And better 'twere, that both of us did fast, 
 Since, of ourselves, ourselves are choleric, 
 Than feed it with such over-roasted flesh. 
 Be patient ; to-morrow it shall be mended, 
 Ana, for this night, we'll fast for company : 
 Come, I will bring thee to thv bridal chamber. 
 
 [Exeunt Petrurhio, Katharina, ami Curtis. 
 
 Nath. [9rfrnciji-.] Peter, didst' ever see the 
 like? 
 
 Peter. He kills her in her own humour. 
 
 Re-enter Curtis. 
 
 Cm. Where is he 1 
 
 Curt. In her chamber, 
 Making a sermon of continency to her : 
 And rails, and swears, and rates ; that she, poor soul, 
 Knows not which way to stand, to look, to speak ; 
 And sits as one new-risen from a dream. 
 Away, away ! for he is coming hither. [Exeunt. 
 
 Re-enter Petruchio. 
 
 Pet. Thus have I politicly begun my reign, 
 And 'tis my hope to end successfully : 
 My falcon now is sharp, and passing empty ; 
 And tUl she stoop, she must not be iull-gorg'd, 
 For then she never looks upon her lure. ' 
 Another way I have to man my haggard. 2 
 To make her come, and know her keeper's call, 
 That is, to watch her, as we watch these kites, 
 That bate, 3 and beat, and will not be obedient. 
 She eat no meat to-day, nor none shall eat ; 
 Last night she slept not, nor to-night she shall not ; 
 As with the meat, some undeserved fault 
 I'll find about the makincr of the bed ; 
 And here I'll fling the pillow, there the bolster, 
 This way the coverlet, another way the sheets : 
 Ay, and amid this hurly, I intend,* 
 That all is done in reverent care of her ; _ 
 And, in conclusion, she shall watch all night ; 
 And, if she chance to nod, I'll rail, and brawl, 
 And with the clamour keep her still awake. 
 
 (1) A thing stuffed to look like the game which 
 the hawk was to pursue. 
 
 (2) To tame my wild hawk, 
 
 This is the way to kill a wife with kindness ; 
 And thus I'll curb her mad and headstrong hu- 
 mour : 
 
 He that knows better how to tame a shrew, 
 Now let him speak ; 'tis charity to show. [Ex-it. 
 
 SCEJfE 77. Padua. Before Baptista's house. 
 
 Enter Tranio and Hortensio. 
 Tra. Is't possible, friend Licio ? that Bianca 
 Doth fancy any other but Lucenlio ? 
 [ tell yon, air, she bears me fair in hand. 
 
 Har. Sir, to satisfy you in what I have said, 
 Stand by, ami mark the manner of his teaching. 
 
 [They stand asidt. 
 
 Enter Bianca and Lucentio. 
 
 Lvc. Now, mistress, profit you in what you read ? 
 
 Bian. What, master, read you ? first resolve me 
 that. 
 
 Lvc. I read that I profess, the art to love. 
 
 Bian. And may you prove, sir, master of your 
 art! 
 
 Luc. While you, sweet dear, prove mistress of 
 my heart. [They retire. 
 
 Hor. Quick prccecders, marry ! Now, tell me, 
 
 I pray, 
 
 You that durst swear that your mistress Bianca 
 Lov'd none in the world so well as Lucentio. 
 
 Tra. O despiteful love ! unconstant woman 
 
 kind! 
 I tell thee, Licio, this is wonderful. 
 
 Hor. Mistake no more : I am not Licio, 
 Nor a musician, as I seem to be ; 
 But one that scorn to live in this disguise, 
 For such a one as leaves a gentleman, 
 And makes a god of such a cullion : 5 
 Know, sir, that I am call'd Hortensio. 
 
 Tra. Signior Hortensio, I have often heard 
 Of your entire affection to Bianca ; 
 And since mine eyes are witness of her lightness, 
 I will with you, if you be so contented, 
 Forswear Bianca and her love for ever. 
 
 Har. See, how they kiss and court! Signior 
 
 Lucentio, 
 
 Here is my hand, and here I firmly vow 
 Never to woo her mere ; but do forswear her, 
 As one unworthv all the former favours 
 That I have fondly flalter'd her withal. 
 
 Tra. And here I take the like unfeigned oath, 
 Ne'er to marry with her though she would entreat : 
 Fie on her ! see, how beastly" she doth court him. 
 
 Hor. 'Would, all the world, but he, had quite 
 
 forsworn ! 
 
 For me, that I may surely keep mine oath, 
 I will be married to a wealthy widow, 
 Ere three days pass ; which hath as long lov'd me, 
 As I have lov'd this proud disdainful haggard : 
 And so farewell, signior Lucentio. 
 Kindness in women, not their beauteous looks, 
 Shall win my love : and so I lake my leave, 
 In resolution as I swore before. 
 
 [Exit Hortensio. Luc. and Bian. advance. 
 
 Tra. Mistress Bianca, bless you with such grace 
 As 'longeth to a lover's blessed case ! 
 Nav, I have ta'en you nappinz, gentle love ; 
 And have forsworn you, with Hortensio. 
 
 Bian. Tranio, you jest ; But have you both for- 
 sworn me ? 
 
 Tra. Mistress, we have. 
 
 Luc. Then we are rid of Licio. 
 
 Tra. I'faith, he'll have a lusty widow now, 
 
 (3) Flutter. (4) Pretend. 
 
 (5) Despicable fellow.
 
 TAMING OF THE SHREW. 
 
 Jet ir. 
 
 That shall be woo'd and wedded in a day. 
 
 Bian. God give him joy ! 
 
 Tra. Ay, and he'll tame her. 
 
 Bian. He says so, Tranio. 
 
 Tra. 'Faith, he Is gone unto the taming-school. 
 
 Bian. The taming-school ! what, is there such 
 a place ? 
 
 Tra. Ay, mistress, and Petruchio is the master ; 
 That teacheth tricks eleven and twenty long, 
 To tame a shrew, and charm her chattering tongue. 
 
 Enter Biondello running 1 . 
 
 Bion. O master, master, I have watch'd so long, 
 That I'm dog-weary ; but at last I spied 
 An ancient angel 1 coming down the hill, 
 Will serve ths turn. 
 
 Tra. What is he, Biondello ? 
 
 Bio7i. Master, a mcrcatante", or a pedant, 1 
 I know not what ; but formal in apparel, 
 In gait and countenance surely like a father. 
 
 IMC. And what of him, Tranio ? 
 
 Tra. If he be credulous, and trust my tale, 
 I'll make him glad to seem Vincentio ; 
 And give assurance to Baptista Minola, 
 As if lie were the right Vincentio. 
 Take in your love, and then let me alone. 
 
 [Exeunt Lucentio and Bianca. 
 
 Enter a Pedant. 
 
 Fed. God save you, sir ! 
 
 Tra. And you, sir ! you are welcome. 
 
 Travel vou far on, or are you at the furthest ? 
 
 Fed. Sir, at the furthest for a week or two : 
 But then up further, and as far as Rome ; 
 And so to Tripoly, if God lend me life. 
 
 Tra. What countryman, I pray ? 
 
 Fed. Of Mantua. 
 
 Tra. Of Mantua, sir ? marry, God forbid ! 
 And come to Padua, careless of your life? 
 
 Fed. My life, sir ! now, I pray ? for that goes hard. 
 
 Tra. 'Tis death for any one in Mantua 
 To come to Padua ; Know you not the cause ? 
 Your ships are staid at Venice ; and the duke 
 (For private quarrel 'tr ixt your duke and him,) 
 Hath publish'd and proclaim'd it openly : 
 'Tis marvel ; but. that you're but newly come, 
 You might have heard it else proclaim'd about. 
 
 Fed. Alas, sir, it is worse for me than so ; 
 For I have bills for money by exchange 
 From Florence, and must here deliver them. 
 
 Tra. Well, sir, to do you courtesy, 
 This will I do, and this "will I advise vou ; 
 First, tell me, have you ever been at Pisa ? 
 
 Fed. Ay, sir, hi Pisa have I often been ; 
 Pisa, renowned for grave citizens. 
 
 Tra. Among them, know you one Vincentio : 
 
 Fed. I know him not, but 'I have heard of him ; 
 A merchant of incomparable wealth. 
 
 Tra. He is my father, sir ; and, sooth to say, 
 In countenance somewhat doth resemble you. 
 
 Bion. As much as an apple doth an oyster, and 
 all one. [*hide. 
 
 Tra. To save your life in this extremity, 
 This favour will I do you for his sake ; 
 And think it not thn worst of all your fortunes, 
 That your are like to sir Vincentio. 
 His name and credit shall you undertake, 
 And in my house you shall be friendly lodg'd ; 
 Look, that you take upon you as you should ; 
 You understand me, sir ; so shall you stay 
 Till you have done your business in the city : 
 If this be courtesy, sir, accept of it. 
 
 (1) Messenger. (2) A merchant or a schoolmaster. 
 
 Fed. 0, sir, I do j and will repute you ever 
 The patron of my life and liberty. 
 
 Tra. Then go with me, to make the matter good. 
 This, by the way, I let you understand ; 
 My father is here look'd for every day. 
 To pass assurance of a dower in marriage 
 'Twixt me and one Baptista's daughter here : 
 In all these circumstances I'll instruct you : 
 Go with me, sir, to clothe you as becomes you. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE IIl.-Jl room in Petruchio's house. 
 Enter Katharina and Grumio. 
 
 Gni. No, no ; forsooth ; I dare not, for my life. 
 
 Kath. The more my wrong, the more his spite 
 
 appears : 
 
 What, did he marry me to famish me ? 
 Beggars, that come unto my father's door, 
 Upon entreaty, have a present alms ; 
 If not, elsewhere they meet with charity: 
 But I, who never knew how to entreat. 
 Am starv'd for meat, giddy for lack of sleep ; 
 With oaths kept waking, and with brawling fed : 
 And that which spites me more than all these wants, 
 He does it under name of perfect love ; 
 As who should say, If I should sleep, or eat, 
 'Twere deadly sickness, or else present death. 
 I pr'ythee go, and get me some repast ; 
 I care not what, so it be wholesome food. 
 
 Grit. What say you to a neat's foot ? 
 
 Kath. 'Tis passing good ; I pr'ythee let mft 
 have it. 
 
 Gru. I fear it is too choleric a meat : 
 How say you to a fat tripe, finely broil'd ? 
 
 Kath. I like it well ; good Grumio, fetch it me. 
 
 Gru. I cannot tell ; I fear 'tis choleric. 
 What say you to a piece of beef, and mustard ? 
 
 Kath. 'A dish that I do love to feed upon. 
 
 Gru. Av, but the mustard is too hot a little. 
 
 Kath. Why, then the beef, and let the mustard 
 rest'. 
 
 Gru. Nay, then I will not ; you shall have the 
 
 mustard, 
 Or rise you get no beef of Grumio. 
 
 Katli.'Thcn both, or one, or any thing thou wilt* 
 
 Gni. Why, then the mustard without the beef. 
 
 Katk. Go, get thee- gone, thou false deludjng 
 .slave, [Beats him. 
 
 That fecd'st, me with the very name of meat: 
 Sorrow on thee, and all the pack of you, 
 That triumph thus upon my misery'! 
 Go, get thee gone, I say. 
 
 Enter Petruchio with a dish of meat ; and Hor- 
 
 tensio. 
 Pet. How fares my Kate ? What, sweeting, all 
 
 amort? 1 
 
 Hor. Mistress, what chrer ? 
 Kath. 'Faith, as cold as can be. 
 
 Fet. Pluck up thy spirits, look cheerfully upon 
 
 me. 
 
 Hero, love ; thou see'st how diligent I am, 
 To dress thy meat myself, and bring it thee : 
 
 [Sets the dish on a table. 
 
 [ am sure, sweet Kat<\ this kindness merits thanks. 
 What, not a word ? Nay, then, thou lov'st it not ; 
 
 And all my pains is sorted to no proof: 
 
 rlrre, take away this dish. 
 Kalh. 'Pray you, let it stand. 
 
 Pet. The poorest service is repaid with thanks ; 
 And so shall mine, before you touch the meat. 
 Kalli. I thank you, sir. 
 
 - (3) Dispirited ; a gallicism.
 
 Sctne III. 
 
 TAMING OF THE SHREW. 
 
 2C9 
 
 Hor. Signior Petruchio, fie ! you are to blame ! 
 Come, mistress Kate, I'll bear you company. 
 
 Pet. Eat it up all, Hortensio, if thou lov'stme. 
 
 [Jsiilc. 
 
 Much good do it unto thy gentle heart ! 
 Kate, eat apace : And now, my honey love, 
 Will we return unto thy father's house ; 
 And revel it as bravely as the best, 
 Wjth silken coats, and caps, and golden rings, 
 With ruffe, and cuffs, and farthingales, and things ; 
 
 Tai. She says, your worship means to make a 
 puppet of her. 
 
 Pet. O monstrous arrogance ! Thou liest, thou 
 
 thread, 
 
 Thou thimble, 
 
 Thou yard, three-quarters, half-yard, quarter, nail, 
 Thou flea, thou nit, thou winter cricket thou : 
 Brav'd in mine own house with a skein of thread ! 
 Away, thou raar, thou quantity, thou remnant ; 
 Or I shall so be-mete s thee w'ith thy yard, 
 
 Katk. Whv, sir, I trust I may have leave to 
 
 speak ; 
 
 And speak I will ; I am no child, no babe : 
 Your betters have endur'd me say my mind ; 
 And, if you cannot, best you stop your ears. 
 My tongue will tell the anger of my heart ; > 
 Or else my heart, concealing it, will break : 
 And, rather than it shall, I will be free 
 Even to the uttermost, as I please, in words. 
 
 Pet. Why, thou say'st true ; it is a paltry cap, 
 A custard-coffin, 3 a bauble, a silken pie : 
 I love thee well, in that thou lik'st it not. 
 
 Kath. Love me, or love me not, I like the cap ; 
 And it I will have, or I will have none. 
 
 Pet. Thy gown ? why, ay : Come, tailor, let us 
 see't. 
 
 mercy, God ! what masking stuff is here ? 
 What's this ? a sleeve ? 'tis like a demi-cannon : 
 What ! up and down, carv'd like an apple-tart ? 
 Here's snip, and nip, and cut, and slish, and slash, 
 Like to a censer* iu a barber's shop : 
 
 Whv, what, o'devil's name, tailor, call'st thou this? 
 
 Hor. I see, she's like to have neither cap nor 
 gown. [slside. 
 
 Tai. You bid me make it orderly and well, 
 According to the fashion, and the time. 
 
 Pet. Marry, and did 5 but if you be remembered, 
 
 1 did not bid you mar it to the time. 
 Go, hop me over every kennel home, 
 
 For you shall hop without my custom, sir : 
 I'll none of it ; hence, make your best of it. 
 
 Kaih. I never saw a better-fashioned gown, 
 More quaint,* more pleasing, nor more commend- 
 able: 
 
 Belike vou mean to make a puppet of me. 
 Pet. Why, true ; he means to make a puppet of 
 thee. 
 
 (1) Finery. (2) Rustling. 
 
 (S ) A coffin was the culinary term tor raised crust 
 
 (4) These censers resembled our bracers in shape, 
 
 I tell thee, I, that thou hast marr'd her gown. 
 Tai. Your worship is deceiv'd ; the gown is i 
 
 Just as my master had direction : 
 
 >vn is made 
 
 With scarfs, and fans, and double change of bra- 1 As thou shall think on prating whilst thou liv'st! 
 
 very, 1 
 
 With amber bracelets, beads, and all this knavery. 
 What, hast thou dined ? The tailor stays thy leisure, 
 To deck thy body with his ruffling 2 treasure. 
 
 Enter Tailor. 
 
 Come, tailor, let us see these ornaments. 
 Enter Haberdasher. 
 
 Lay forth the gown. What news with you, sir ? 
 
 flab. Here is the cap your worship did bespeak. 
 
 Pet. Why, this was moulded on a porringer ; 
 A velvet dish ; fie, fie ! 'tis lewd and filthy : 
 Why, 'tis a cockle, or a walnut shell, 
 A knack, a toy, a trick, a baby's cap ; 
 Away with it, come, let me have a bigger. 
 
 Kath. I'll have no bigger ; this doth fit the time, 
 And gentlewomen wear such caps as these. 
 
 Pet. When you are gentle, you shall have one 
 
 too, 
 And not till then. 
 
 Hor. That will not be in haste. [Jside. 
 
 Grumio gave order how it should be done. 
 
 Grn. I gave him no order, I gave him the stuff. 
 
 Tai. But how did you desire it should be made? 
 
 Gru. Marry, sir, with needle and thread. 
 
 Tai. But did you not request to have it cut? 
 
 Gru. Thou hast faced many things. 1 
 
 Tai. I have. 
 
 Gru. Fdce not me : thou hast brav'd manv men ; 
 brave not me ; I will neither be faced nor braved. 
 I say unto thee, I bid thy master cut out the 
 gown ; but I did not bid him cut it to pieces : ergo, 
 thou liest. 
 
 Toe. Why, here is the note of the fashion to testify. 
 
 Pet. Read it. 
 
 Gru. The note lies in his throat, if he say I said so. 
 
 Tai. Imprimis, a loose-bodied gown : 
 
 Gm. Master, if ever I said loose-bodied gown, 
 sew me in the skirts of it, and beat me to death 
 with a bottom of brown thread : I said, a sown 
 
 Pet. Proceed. 
 
 Tai. With a small compassed cape .- 
 
 Gn. I confess the cape. 
 
 Tai. With, a trttnk sleere; 
 
 Gru. I confess two sleeves. 
 
 Tai. The sleeves curimisly cut. 
 
 Pet. Ay, there's the villany. 
 
 Gru. 'Error i'thc bill, sir ; error i'the bill. I 
 commanded the sleeves should be cut out, and 
 sewed up a<rain ; and that I'll prove upon thee, 
 though thy little finger be arm'd in a thimble. 
 
 Tai. This is true^ that I say ; an I had thee in 
 place where, thou should'st know it. 
 
 Gri. I am for thee straight : take thou the bill, 
 give me thy mete-yard. 9 and spare not me. 
 
 Hor. God-a-mercy, Grumio ! then he shall have 
 no odds. 
 
 Pet. Well, sir, in brief, the gown is not for me. 
 
 Gru. You are i'the right, sir ; 'tis for my mistress. 
 
 Pet. Go, take it up unto thy master's use. 
 
 Grit. Villain, not for thy life : Take up my mis- 
 tress' gown for thy master's use ! 
 
 Pet. Why, sir, what's your conceit in that ? 
 
 Gru. O, sir, the conceit is deeper than you think 
 
 for: 
 
 Take up my mistress' gown to his master's use ! 
 O, fie, fie, fie ! 
 
 Pet. Hortensio, say thou wilt sec the tailor 
 paid : [Jsidt. 
 
 Go take it hence ; be gone, and say no more. 
 
 Hor. Tailor, I'll pay thee for thy gown to-mcr- 
 
 row. 
 
 Take no unkindness of his hasty words : 
 Away, I say ; commend me to thy master. 
 
 [Exit Tailor. 
 
 Pet. Well, come, my Kate ; we will unto your 
 father's, 
 
 (5) Curious. (6) Be-measure. 
 
 (7) Turned up many garments with facings. 
 
 (8) A round cape. (9) Measuring-ytrO,
 
 270 
 
 TAMING OF THE SHREW. 
 
 Jlct IP, 
 
 ETCH in these honest hiean habiliments ; 
 
 Our purses shall be proud, our garments poor : 
 
 For 'tis the mind that makes the body rich ; 
 
 And as the sun breaks through the darkest clouds, 
 
 So honour pecreth 1 in the meanest habit. 
 
 What, is the jay more precious than the lark, 
 
 Because his leathers are more beautiful ? 
 
 Or is the adder better than the eel, 
 
 Because his painted skin contents the eye ? 
 
 O, no, good Kate j neither art thou the worse 
 
 For this poor furniture, and mean array. 
 
 If thou account's! it shame, lay it on me : 
 
 And therefore, frolic ; we will hence forthwith, 
 
 To feast and sport us at thy father's house. 
 
 Go, call my men, and let us straight to him ; 
 
 And bring our horses unto Long-lane end, 
 
 There will we mount, and thither walk on foot. 
 
 Let's see ; I think, 'tis now some seven o'clock, 
 
 And well we may come there by dinner-time. 
 
 Kaih. I dare assure you, sir, 'tis almost two ; 
 And 'twill be supper-lirne, ere you come there. 
 
 Pet. It shall be seven, ere I go to horse : 
 Look, what I speak, or do, or think to do, 
 You are still crossing it. Sirs, left alone : 
 I will not go to-day ; and ere I do, 
 It shall be what o'clock I say it is. 
 
 Hor. Why so ! this gallant will command the sun. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE IV. Padua. Before Baptista's house. 
 
 Enter Tranio, and the Pedant dressed like Vin- 
 
 centio. 
 
 Tra. Sir. this is the house ; Please it you, that I 
 call? 
 
 Fed. Ay, what else ? and, but I be deceived, 
 Signior Baptista may remember me, 
 Near twenty years ago, in Genoa, where 
 We were lodgers at the Pegasus. 
 
 Tra. 'Tis well ; 
 
 And hold your own, in any case, with such 
 Austerity as 'longeth to a father. 
 Enter Biondello. 
 
 Fed. I warrant you: But, sir, here comes your 
 
 boy; 
 'Twere good he were school'd. 
 
 Tra. Fear you not him. Sirrah, Biondello, 
 Now do your duty thoroughly, I advise you ; 
 Imagine 'twere the right Vincentio. 
 
 Bion. Tut ! fear not me. 
 
 Tra. But hast thou done thy errand to Baptista ? 
 
 Bion. I told him, that your father was at Venice ; 
 And that you look'd for him this day in Padua. 
 
 Tra. Thou'rt a tall 5 fellow ; hold thee that to 
 
 drink. 
 Here comes Baptista: set your countenance, sir. 
 
 Enter Baptista and Luccntio. 
 
 Signior Baptista, you arc haply met : 
 
 Sir, [To (Ac Pedant.] 
 
 This is the gentleman I told you of; 
 
 I pray you, stand good father to me now, 
 
 Give me Bianca for my patrimony. 
 
 Fed. Soft, son ! 
 
 Sir, by your leave : having come to Padua 
 To gather in some debts, my son Lucentio 
 Made me acquainted with a weighty cause 
 Of love between your daughter and himself: 
 And, for the good report I hear of you ; 
 And for the love he beareth to your daughter, 
 And she to him, to stay him not too long, 
 I am content, in a good father's care, 
 
 (1) Appeareth. (2) Brave. (3) Scrupulous, 
 (4) Assure or convey, (5) Betrothed, 
 
 To have him match'd ; and, if you please to like 
 No worse than I, sir, upon some agreement, 
 Me shall you find most ready and most willing 
 With one consent to have her so bestow'd ; 
 For curious 3 I cannot be with you, 
 Sipnior Baptista, of whom I hear so well. 
 
 Bap. Sir, pardon me in what I have to say ; 
 Your plainness, and your shortness, please me well, 
 Right true it is, your son Lucentio here 
 Doth love my daughter, and she loveth him, 
 Or both dissemble deeply their affections : 
 And, therefore, if you say no more than this, 
 That like a father you will deal with him, 
 And pass" my daughter a sufficient dower, 
 The match is fully made, and all is done : 
 Your son shall have my daughter with consent. 
 
 Tra. I thank you, sir. Where then do you know 
 
 best, 
 
 We be allied ; 5 and such assurance ta'cn, 
 As shall with either part's agreement stand ? 
 
 Map. Not in my house, Lucentio; for, you know, 
 Pitchers have ears, and I have many servants: 
 Besides, old Grcmio is heark'ning still ; 
 And, happily, 6 we might be interrupted. 
 
 Tra. Then at my lodging-, an it like you, sir : 
 There doth my father lie ; and there, this night, 
 We'll pass the business privately and well : "~ 
 Send lor .your daughter by your servant here, 
 My boy shall fetch the scrivener presently. 
 The worst is this, Hint, at so slender warning, 
 You're like to have a thin and slender pittance. 
 
 Bap. It likes me well : Cambio, hie you home, 
 And bid Bianca make her ready straight ; 
 And, if you will, tell what hath happened: 
 Lurentio's fatiier is arriv'd in Pndua, 
 And how she's like to be Lucentio's wife. 
 
 IMC. I pray the gods she may, with all my heart ! 
 
 Tra. Dally not with the gods, but get thee gone. 
 Signior Baptista, shall I lead the way ? 
 Welcome ! one mess is like to be your cheer: 
 Come, sir ; we'll belter it in Pisa. 
 
 Bap. I follow you. 
 
 [Exeunt Tranio, Pedant, and Baptista. 
 
 Bion. Cambio. 
 
 IMC. What say'st thou, Biondello ? 
 
 Lion. You saw my matter wink and laugh upon 
 you ? 
 
 Luc. Biondello, what of that? 
 
 Bion. 'Faith, nothing; but he has left me here 
 behind, to expound the meaning or moral 1 of his 
 signs and tokens. 
 
 IMC. I pray thee, moralize them. 
 
 Bion. Then thus. Baptista is safe, talking with 
 the deceiving father of a deceitful son. 
 
 IMC. And what of him ? 
 
 Bion. His daughter is to be brought by you to 
 the supper. 
 
 Luc. And then ? 
 
 Bion. The old priest at Saint Luke's church is 
 at vour command at all hours. 
 
 Luc. And what of all this? 
 
 Bion. I cannot tell ; except they are busied 
 about a counterfeit assurance : Take your assurance; 
 of her, cum privilegio ad imprimendtan solum : 
 to the church ; take the priest, clerk, and some 
 sufficient honest witnesses : 
 If this be not that you look for, I have no more to 
 
 say, 
 But, bid Bianca farewell for ever and a day. 
 
 [ Going. 
 
 Luc. Hear'st thou, Biondello ? 
 
 Bion. I cannot tarry : I knew a wench married 
 
 (6) Accidentally. (7) Secret purpose.
 
 Scent I. 
 
 TAMING OP THE SHREW. 
 
 in an afternoon as she went to the garden for pars- 
 lev to stuff a rabbit ; and so may you, sir, and so 
 adieu, sir. My master hath appointed me to go to 
 Saint Luke's, to bid the priest be ready to come 
 against vou come with your appendix. [Exit. 
 
 Luc. \ mav, and will, if she be so contented : 
 She will be pleas'd, then wherefore should I doubt ? 
 Hap what hap may, I'll roundly g-o about her : 
 It shall go hard, if Cambio go without her. [Exit. 
 
 SCENE V.A public road. Enter Petruchio, 
 Katharina, and Hortensio. 
 
 Pet. Come on, o' God's name ; once more to- 
 ward our father's. 
 Good Lord, how bright and goodly shines the moon ! 
 
 Kath. The moon ! the sun ; it is not moonlight 
 now. 
 
 Pet. I say, it is the moon that shines so bright. 
 
 Kath. I know, it is the sun that shines so bright. 
 
 Pet. Now, by my mother's son, and that's myself, 
 It shall be moon, or star, or what I list, 
 Or ere I journey to your father's house : 
 Go on, and fetch our horses back attain. 
 Evermore cross'd, and cross'd ; nothing but cross'd ! 
 
 Hor. Say as he says, or we shall never go. 
 
 Kath. Forward, I prav, since we have come so 
 
 far, 
 
 And be it moon, or sun, or what you please : 
 And if vou please to call it a rush candle, 
 Henceforth I vow it shall be so for me. 
 
 Pet. I say, it is the moon. 
 
 Kath. I know it is. 
 
 Pet. Nay, then you lie ; it is the blessed sun. 
 
 Kath. Then, God be bless'd, it is the blessed 
 
 sun: 
 
 But sun it is not, when you say it is not ; 
 And the moon changes, even as your mind. 
 What you will have it nam'd, even that it is ; 
 And so it shall be so, for Katharine. 
 
 Hor. Petruchio, go thy ways ; the field is won. 
 
 Pet. Well, forward, forward : thus the bowl 
 
 should run, 
 
 And not unluckily against the bias. 
 But soft ; what company is coming here? 
 
 Enter Vincentio, in a travelling dress. 
 Good-morrow, gentle mistress : Where away ? 
 
 [ To Vincentio. 
 
 Tell me, sweet Kate, and tell me truly too, 
 Hast thou beheld a fresher gentlewoman ? 
 Such war of white and red within her cheeks ! 
 What stars do spangle heaven with such beauty, 
 As those two eyes become that heavenly face ? 
 Fair lovely maid, once more good da)' to thee : 
 Sweet Kate, embrace her for her beauty's sake. 
 
 Hor. 'A will make the man mad, to make a 
 woman of him. 
 
 Kath. Young budding virgin, fair, and fresh, and 
 
 sweet, 
 
 Whither away ; or where is thy abode ? 
 Happy the parents of so fair a child ; 
 Happier the man, whom favourable stars 
 Allot thee for his lovely bed-fellow! 
 
 Pet. Why, how now, Kate ! I hope thou art not 
 
 mad: 
 
 This is a man, old, wrinkled, faded, wither'd ; 
 And not a maiden, as thou say'st he is. 
 
 Kath. Pardon, old father, my mistaking eyes, 
 That have been so bedazzled with the sun, 
 That every thing I look on seemeth green : 
 Now I perceive, thou art a reverend father ; 
 Pardon, I pray thee, for my mad mistaking. 
 
 Pet. Do, good old grandsire ; and, withal, make 
 known 
 
 iVhich way thou travellest : if along with us, 
 >Ve shall be joyful of thy company. 
 
 Vin. Fair sir, and you my merry mistress, 
 That with your strange encounter much amaz'd 
 
 me; 
 
 My name is call'd Vincentio ; my dwelling Pisa ; 
 \nd bound I am to Padua ; there to visit 
 
 son of mine, which long I have not seen. 
 
 Pet. What is his name V 
 
 Vin. Lucentio, gentls sir. 
 
 Pet . Happily met ; the happier for thy son. 
 And now by law, as well a_s reverend age, 
 I may entitle thee my loving father ; 
 The sister to my wife, this gentlewoman, 
 Thy son by this hath married : Wonder not, 
 Vor be not griev'd ; she is of good esteem, 
 rler dowry wealthy, and of worthy birth ; 
 Sesidc, so qualified as may beseem 
 The spouse of any noble gentleman. 
 Let me embrace with old^Vincentio : 
 And wander we to see thy honest son, 
 \Vho will of thy arrival be full joyous. 
 
 Vin. But is this true ? or is it else vour pleasure, 
 bike pleasant travellers, to break a jest 
 Upon the company you overtake ? 
 
 Hor. I do assure thee, father, so it is. 
 
 Pet. Come, go along, and see the truth hereof; 
 For our first merriment hath made thee jealous. 
 [Exeunt Petruchio, Katharina, and Vincentio. 
 
 Hor. Well, Petruchio, this hath put me in heart. 
 Have to my widow ; and if she be forward, 
 Then hast thou taught Hortensio to be untoward. 
 
 [Exit. 
 
 ACT V. 
 
 SCENE 7. Padua. Before Lucentio's house. 
 Enter on one side Biondello, Lucentio, and Bi- 
 anca ; Gremio walking on the other side. 
 
 Bion. Softly and swiftly, sir ; for the priest is 
 ready. 
 
 Luc. I fly, Biondello : but they may chance to 
 need thee at home, therefore leave us. 
 
 Bion. Nay, faith, I'll see the church o' your 
 back ; and then come back to my master as soon 
 as I can. [Exeunt Luc.'Bian. and Bion. 
 
 Gre. I marvel Cambio comes not all this while. 
 
 Enter Petruchio, Katharina, Vincentio, and at- 
 tendants. 
 
 Pet. Sir, here's the door, this is Lucentio's house. 
 My father's bears more toward the market-place ; 
 Thither must I, and here I leave you, sir. 
 
 Vin. You shall not choose but drink before you 
 
 r:'i> ; 
 
 I think, I shall command your welcome here, 
 And, by all likelihood, some cheer is toward. 
 
 [Knocks. 
 
 Gre. They're busy within, you were best knoct 
 louder. 
 
 Enter Pedant above at a window. 
 
 Fed. What's he, that knocks as he would beat 
 down the gate ? 
 
 Vin. la signior Lucentio within, sir? 
 
 Fed. He's within, sir, but not to be spoken withal. 
 
 Vin. What if a man bring him a hundred pound 
 or two, to make merry withal ? 
 
 Fed. Keep your hundred pounds to yourself: he 
 shall need none, so long as I live. 
 
 Pet. Nay, I told you, your son was beloved in
 
 272 
 
 TAMING OF THE SHREW. 
 
 Act r. 
 
 Padua. Do you hear, sir ? to leave frivolous cir- 
 cumstances, I pray you, tell signior Lucentio, 
 that his father is come from Pisa, ar J is here at 
 the door to speak with him. 
 
 Fed. Thou liest ; his father is come from Pi*g,, 
 and here looking out at the window. 
 
 Fin. Art thou his father ? 
 
 Ped. Ay, sir ; so his mother says, if I may be- 
 lieve her. 
 
 Pet, Why, how, now, gentlemen ! [To Vincen.] 
 why, this is flat knavery, to take upon you another 
 man's name. 
 
 Ped. Lay hands on the villain ; I believe 
 means to cozen somebody in this city under my 
 countenance. 
 
 Re-enter Biondello. 
 
 Blon. I have seen them in the church together ; 
 God send 'em good shipping! But who is here? 
 mine old master, Vincentio f now we are undone, 
 and brougnt to nothing. 
 
 Fin. Come hither, crack-hemp. 
 
 [Seeing Biondello. 
 
 Bion. I hope. I may choose, sir. 
 
 Fin. Come, hither, you rogue ; What, have you 
 forgot me ? 
 
 Bion. Forgot you ? no, sir : I could not forget 
 7011. for I never saw you before in all my life. 
 
 Fin. What, you notorious villain, didst thou 
 never see thy master's father, Vincentio ? 
 
 Bion. What, my old, worshipful old master? 
 yea, marry, sir ; see where he looks out of the win* 
 dow. 
 
 Fin. Is't so, indeed ? 
 
 [Beats Biondello. 
 
 Bion. Help, help, help! here's a madman will 
 
 murder me. 
 Ped. Help, son ! help, si<rnior Baptista ! 
 
 [Exit. 
 
 [Exit from the window. 
 Pet. Pr'ythee, Kate, let's stand aside, and see 
 
 the end of this controversy. 
 
 [They retire. 
 
 Re-enter Pedant below ; Baptista, Tranio, and 
 servants. 
 
 Tra. Sir, what are you, that ofier to beat my 
 servant ? 
 
 Fin. What ami, sir? nay, what are you, sir? 
 O immortal gods ! O fine villain ! A silken doublet ! 
 a velvet hose ! a scarlet cloak ! and a copatain hat ! ' 
 0, 1 am undone ! I am und;;?* - wmle I play the 
 good husband at home, my suo am: uiy servant 
 spend all at the university. 
 
 Tra. How now ! what's the matter ? 
 
 Bap. What, is the man lunatic '' 
 
 Tra. Sir, you seem a sober ancient gentleman 
 by your habit,_ but your words show you a mad- 
 man : Why, sir, what concerns it you, if I wear 
 pearl and gold ? I thank my good father, I am able 
 to maintain it. 
 
 Fin. Thy father ? O, villain ! he is a sail-maker 
 in Bergamo. 
 
 Bap. You mistake, sir ; you mistake, sir : Pray, 
 what do you think is his name ? 
 
 Fin. His name ? as if I knew not his name ! 1 
 have brought him up ever since he was three years 
 old, and his name is Tranio. 
 
 Ped. Away ? away, mad ass ! his name is Lucen- 
 tio ! and he is mine only son, and heir to the lands 
 of me, signior Vincentio. 
 
 Fin. Lucentio ! O, he hath murdered his mas- 
 ter ! Lay hold on him, I charge you, in the duke's 
 
 (1) A hat with a conical crown. 
 
 h) Cheated. (3) Deceived thy eyes. 
 
 (4) Tricking-, underhand contrivances, 
 
 name : 0, my son, my son ! tell me, thou villain, 
 where is my son Lucentio ? 
 
 Tra. Call forth an officer: [Enter one with an 
 o^icer.] carry this mad knave to the gaol : Father 
 Baptista, I charge you see, that he be forth-coming. 
 
 Fin. Carry me to the gaol ! 
 
 Gre. Stay, officer ; he shall not go to prison. 
 
 Bap. Talk not, signior Gremio ; I say, he shall 
 go to prison. 
 
 Gre. Take heed, signior Baptista, lest you be 
 conycatched 2 in this business ; I dare swear, this 
 is the right Vincentio. 
 
 Ped. Swear, if thou darest. 
 
 Gre. Nay, I dare not swear it. 
 
 Tra. Then thou wert best say, that I am not 
 Lunentio. 
 
 Gre. Yes, I know thee to be signior Lucentio. 
 
 Bap. Away with the dotard ; to the gaol with 
 him. 
 
 Fin. Thus strangers may be haled and abus'd : 
 monstrous villain ! 
 
 Re-enter Biondello, with Lucentio, and Bianca. 
 
 Bion. O, we are spoiled, and Yonder he is; 
 deny him, forswear him, or else we are all undone. 
 
 Luc. Pardon, sweet father. [Kneeling. 
 
 Fin. Lives my sweetest son ? 
 
 [Biondello, Tranio, and Pedant, rtm out. 
 
 Bian. Pardon, dear father. [Kneeling. 
 
 Bap. How hast thou offended ? 
 
 Where is Lucentio ? 
 
 Luc. Here's Lucentio, 
 
 Right son unto the right Virfcentio ; 
 That, have by marriage made thy daughter mine, 
 While counterfeit supposes blear'd thine eyne. J 
 
 Gre. Here's packing, 4 with a witness, to deceive 
 us all! 
 
 Fin. Where is that damned villain, Tranio, 
 That fac'd and brav'd me in this matter so ? 
 
 Bap. Why, tell me, is not this my Cambio ? 
 
 Bian. Cambio is chang'd into Lucentio. 
 
 Luc. Love wrought these miracles. Bianca's love 
 Made me exchange my Ftate with Tranio, 
 While he did bear my countenance in the town ; 
 And happily I have arriv'd at last 
 Unto the wished haven of my bliss : 
 What Tranio did, myself eniorc'd him to ; 
 Then pardon him, sweet father, for my sake. 
 
 Fin. I'll slit the villain's nose, that would have 
 scrit me to the gaol. 
 
 Bap. But do you hear, sir? [To Lucentio.] Have 
 you married my daughter without asking my good- 
 will ? 
 
 Fin. Fear not, Baptista ; we will content you, 
 c:o to : But I will in, to be revenged for this villanv. 
 
 [Exit. 
 
 Bap. And I, to sound the depth of this knavery. 
 
 Luc. Look not pale, Bianca ; thy father wilf not 
 
 frown. [Exeunt Luc. and Bi;m. 
 
 Gre. My cake is dough : But I'll in among the 
 
 rest ; 
 Out of hope of all, but my share of the feast. 
 
 [Exit. 
 
 Petruchio and Katharina advance. 
 Kath. Husband, let's follow, to see the end of 
 
 this ado. 
 
 Pet. First kiss me, Kate, and we will. 
 Kath. What, in the midst of the street ? 
 Pet. What, art thou ashamed of me ? 
 
 (5) A proverbial expression, repeated after a 
 disappointment.
 
 Scene //. 
 
 TAMING OP THE SHREW. 
 
 273 
 
 Kalh. No, sir ; God forbid : but ashamed to kiss.' Pet. Nay, that you shall not; since you have 
 Pet. Why, then let's home again : Come, sirrah, : begun, 
 
 let's away. Have at you for a bitter jest or two. 
 
 Kath. Nay, I will give thee a kiss : now pray Bian. Am I your bird < I mean to shift my bash, 
 
 thee, love, stav. 
 
 And then pursue me as you draw your bow :- 
 
 Pet. Is not this well ^ Come, my sweet Kate ; j You are welcome all. 
 
 Better once than never, for never too late. [Exe.\ [Exeunt Bianca, Katharina, and Widow. 
 
 IT J Pet. She hath prevented me. Here, Signior 
 
 I/. >A room in Lucentio's house. .1 Tranio 
 
 This bird you aim'd at, though you hit her not ; 
 Therefore, a health to all that shot and miss'd. 
 
 Tra. O, sir, Lucentio slipp'd me like his grey- 
 hound, 
 Which runs himself, and catches for his master. 
 
 Pet. A good swift 3 simile, but something currish. 
 
 Tra. 'Tis well, sir, that you hunted for yourself; 
 'Tis thought, your deer does hold you at a bay. 
 
 Bap. O ho. Petruchio, Tranio hits you now. 
 
 Luc. I thank thee for that eird, 4 good Tranio. 
 
 banquet set out. Enter Baptista, Vincentio, 
 Gremio, MePedant, Lucentio, Bianca, Petruchio, 
 Katharina, Hortensio, and Widow. Tranio, 
 Biondello, Grumio, and others, attending. 
 
 Luc. At last, though long, our jarring notes 
 
 agree : 
 
 And time it is, when raging war is done, 
 To smile at 'scapes and perils overblown. 
 My fair Bianca, bid my lather welcome, 
 While I with self-same kindness welcome thine : 
 Brother Petruchio, sister Katharina, 
 
 /for. Confess, confess, hath he not hit you here ? 
 Pet. 'A has a little gall'd me, I confess ; 
 
 , ... Petruchio, 
 
 'I think thou has the veriest shrew of all. 
 
 Pet. We!!, I say no : and therefore, for assu- 
 rance, 
 
 For now we sit to chat, as well as cat. 
 
 [They sit at table. 
 
 Pet. Nothing but sit and sit, and eat and eat ! , ,. 
 
 Bap. Padua affords this kindness, son Petruchio.! Le.s each one send unto his wife ; 
 Pet. Padua affords nothin? but what is kind. ^ nd he wh se wife is most obedient 
 Her. For both our sakes, I would that wordl J ?. om ? at u first "hen he doth send for her, 
 were true. onall win the wager which we will propose. 
 
 Pet. Now for my life, Hortensio fears 2 his widow. 
 Wid. Then never trust me if I be afeard. 
 Pet. You are sensible, and yet you miss my 
 
 sense ; 
 I mean, Hortensio is afeard of vou. 
 
 Wid. He that is giddy, thinks the world turns' 
 
 round. 
 
 Pet. Roundly replied. 
 
 Kath. Mistress, how mean you that ? 
 
 Wid. Thus I conceive by him. 
 Pet. Conceives by me ! How lilies Hortensio 
 
 that ? 
 Hor. My widow says, thus she conceives her 
 
 tale. 
 Pet. Very well mended : Kiss him for that, good 
 
 widow. 
 Kath. He that is giddy thinks the world turns 
 
 round: 
 I pray you, tell me what you meant by that. 
 
 Wid. Your husband, being troubled with a 
 
 shrew, 
 
 Measures my husband's sorrow by his wo : 
 And now you know my meaning. 
 Kath. A very mean meaning. 
 Wid. " Right, I mean you. 
 
 Kath. And I am mean, indeed, respecting you. 
 Pet. To her, Kate ! 
 Hor. To her, widow ! 
 Pet. A hundred marks, my Kate does put her 
 
 down. 
 
 Hor. That's my office. 
 Pet. Spoke like an officer : Ha, to thee, lad. 
 
 [Drinks to Hortensio. 
 
 Bap. How likes Gremio these quick-witted folks? 
 Gre. Believe me, sir, they butt together well. 
 Bian. Head, and butt ? 'a hasty- witted body 
 Would say, your head and butt were head and horn. 
 Fin. Ay, mistress bride, hath that awaken'd you ? 
 Bian. Ay, but not frighted me ; therefore I'll 
 
 sleep again. 
 
 (1) A banquet was a refection consisting of fruit, 
 Cokes, &c. 
 
 Hor. Content:- What is the wager? 
 
 Luc. Twenty crowns. 
 
 Pet. Twenty crowns ! 
 
 I'll venture so much on my hawk, or hound, 
 'But twenty limes so much upon my wife. 
 
 Luc. A hundred then. 
 Hor. Content. 
 
 Pel. A match ; 'tis done. 
 
 Hor. Who shall begin ? 
 Luc. That will I. Go, 
 
 Biondello, bid your mistress come to me. 
 Bion. I go. [Exit. 
 
 Bap. Son, I will be vour half. Bianca comes. 
 Luc. I'll have no halves ; I'll bear it all myself. 
 
 Re-enter Biondello. 
 
 How now ! what news ? 
 
 Bion. Sir, my mistress sends you word, 
 
 That she is busy, and she cannot come. 
 
 Pet. How ! she is busy, and she cannot come ! 
 Is that an answer ? 
 
 Gre. Ay, and a kind one too : 
 
 Pray God, sir, your wife send you not a worse. 
 
 Pet. I hope, better. 
 
 Hor. Sirrah, Biondello, go, and entreat my 
 
 wife 
 To come to me forthwith. [Exit Biondello. 
 
 Pet. O, ho! entreat her! 
 
 Na v, then she must needs come. 
 
 Hor. I am afraid, sir, 
 
 Do what you can, yours will not be entreated. 
 
 Re-enter Biondello. 
 
 Now, where's my wife ? 
 Bion. She says, you have some goodly jest in 
 
 hand ; 
 
 Shfi will noi come ; she bids vou come to her. 
 Pet. Worse and worse ; she will not come ! 
 
 vile, 
 
 Intolerable, not to be endur'd ! 
 Sirrah, Grumio, go to your mistress ; 
 
 (2) Dreads, 
 
 (4) Sarcaim,
 
 274 
 
 TAMING OP THE SHREW. 
 
 Say. I comman her come to me. [Exit Grumio. 
 Hor. I know her answer. 
 Pet. What? 
 
 Hor. She will not come. 
 
 Pet. The fouler fortune mine, and there an end. 
 
 Enter Katharina. 
 
 Bap. Now, by my holidame, here comes Katha- 
 rina! 
 Kath. What is your will, sir, that you send 'for 
 
 me ? 
 
 Pet. Where is your sister, and Hortensio's wife ? 
 Kath. They sit conferring bv the parlour fire. 
 Pet. Go, fetch them hither ; if they deny to 
 
 come, 
 
 Swinge me them soundly forth unto their husbands : 
 Away, I say, and bring them hither straight. 
 
 [Exit Katharina. 
 
 Luc. Here is a wonder, if you talk of a wonder. 
 Hor. And so it is : I wonder what it bodes. 
 Pet. Marry, peace it bodes, and love, and quiet 
 
 life, 
 
 An awful rule, and right supremacy ; 
 And, to be short, what not, that's sweet and happy. 
 
 Bop. Now fair befall thee, good Petruchio ! 
 The wager thou hast won ; and I will add 
 Unto their losses twenty thousand crowns ; 
 Another dowry to another daughter, 
 For she is chang'd, as she had never bee/i. 
 
 Pet. Nay, I will win jny wager better yet ; 
 And show more sign of her obedience, 
 Her new-built virtue and obedience. 
 
 Re-enter Katharina, icith Bianca, and Widow. 
 See, where she comes ; and brings your froward 
 
 wives 
 
 As prisoners to her womanly persuasion. 
 Katharine, that cap of yours becomes you not ; 
 Off with that bauble, throw it under foot. 
 
 [Katharina pulls off her cap, and throws it down. 
 
 Wid. Lord, let me never nave a cause to sigh, 
 Till I be brought to such a silly pass ! 
 
 Bian. Fie ! what a foolish duty call you this ? 
 
 Luc. I would, your duty were as foolish too : 
 The wisdom of your duty, fair Bianca, 
 Hath cost me a hundred crowns since supper-time. 
 
 Bian. The more fool you, for laying on my 
 duty. 
 
 Pet. Katharine, I charge thee, tell these head- 
 strong women 
 What duty they do owe their lords and husbands. 
 
 Wid. Come, come, you're mocking; we will 
 have no telling. 
 
 Pet. Come on, I say ; and first begin with her. 
 
 Wid. She shall not. 
 
 Pet. I say, she shall ; and first begin with her. 
 
 Kath. Fie, fie! unknit that threat'ning unkind 
 
 brow ; 
 
 And dart not scornful glances from those eyes, 
 To wound thy lord, thy king, thy governor : 
 It blots thy beauty, as frosts bite the meads ; 
 Confounds thy fame, as whirlwinds shake fair buds ; 
 And in no sense is meet, or amiable. 
 A woman mov'd, is like a fountain troubled, 
 Muddy, ill-seeming, thick, bereft of beauty ; 
 And, while it is so, none so dry or thirsty 
 Will deign to sip, or touch one drop ofSt. 
 Thy husband is thy lord, thy life, thy keeper, 
 
 (1) Gentle temper. 
 
 Thy head, thy sovereign ; one that cares for thee, 
 And for thy maintenance : commits his body 
 To painful labour, both by sea arid land ; 
 To watch the night in storms, the day in cold, 
 While thou liest warm at home, secure and safe , 
 And craves no other tribute at thy hands, 
 But love, fair looks, and true obedience; 
 Too little payment 1'or so great a debt. 
 Such duty as the subject owes the prince, 
 Even such, a woman oweth to her husband : 
 And, when she's froward, peevish, sullen, sour, 
 And, not obedient to his honest will, 
 What is she, but a foul contending rebel, 
 And graceless traitor to iur loving lord? 
 I am asham'd, that women are so simple 
 To oiler war, where they should kneel for peace ; 
 Or seek for rule, supremacy, and sway, 
 When they are bound to serve, love, and obey. 
 Why arc onr bodies soft, and weak, and smooth, 
 Unapt to toil and trouble in the world ; 
 But that our soft conditions, 1 and our hearts, 
 Should well a^rcf with our external parts? 
 Corae, come', you froward and unable worms! 
 My mind hath been as big- as one of yours, 
 My heart as great ; my reason, haply, more, 
 To bandy word for word, and frown for frown : 
 But now, I sec our lances are but straws ; 
 Our strength as weak, our weakness past com- 
 pare, 
 
 That seeming to be most, which we least are. 
 Then vail your stomachs, 2 for it is no boot ; 
 And place you;- hands below your husband's foot : 
 In token of which duty, if he please, 
 My hand is ready, may it do him ease. 
 Pet. Why, there's a wench ! Come on, and kiss 
 
 me, Kate. 
 Lite. Well, go thy way^, old lad ; for thou shall 
 
 ha't. 
 Fin. 'Tis a good hearing, when children are 
 
 toward. 
 Luc. But a harsh hearing, when women are 
 
 froward. 
 
 Pet. Corne, Kate, we'll to bed : 
 
 We three are married, but you two are sped. 
 'Twas I won the wager, though you hit the white ; 
 
 [ToLucentio. 
 And, being a winner, God give you good night ! 
 
 [Exeunt. Petruchio imaKath. 
 Hor. Now go thy ways, thou hast tam'd a curst 
 
 shrew. 
 Luc. 'Tis a wonder, by your leave, she will be 
 
 tam'd so. [Exeunt. 
 
 Of this plav the two plots are so well united, 
 that they can hardly be called two, without injury 
 to the art with which they are interwoven. The 
 attention is entertained with all the variety of a 
 double plot, yet is $ot distracted by unconnected 
 incidents. 
 
 The part between Katharine and Petruchio is 
 eminently sprightly and diverting. At the marriage 
 of Bianca, the arrival of the real father, perhaps, 
 produces more perplexity than pleasure. The 
 whole play is very popular and diverting. 
 
 JOHNSON, 
 
 (2) Abate your spirits.
 
 WINTER'S TALE. 
 Act IV Scene 3. 
 
 COMEDY OF ERRORS. 
 Act V. Scene 1.
 
 ( 275 ) 
 
 WINTER'S TALE. 
 
 PERSONS REPRESENTED. 
 
 Leontes, king of Sicilia. 
 
 Mamillius, his son. 
 
 Camillo, \ 
 
 Antigonus, f Siul { d 
 
 Cleomenes, L 
 
 Dion, J 
 
 tlnother Sicilian lord. 
 
 Rogero, a Sicilian gentleman. 
 
 *in~r.tttiidant on the young prince J 
 
 Officers of a court of judicature. 
 
 ^olixenes, king of Bohemia. 
 
 Florizcl, his son. 
 
 Archidamus, a Bohtmian lord. 
 
 .'1 mariner. 
 
 Gaoler. 
 
 ,in old shepherd, reputed father ofPerdita. 
 
 Clown, his son. 
 Servant to the old shephttu. 
 Autolycus, a rogue. 
 Time, as Chorus. 
 
 Hermione, queen to Ltontes, 
 
 Perdita, daughter to Leontes and Hermione. 
 
 Paulina, wife to Jlntigonus. 
 
 ' 
 
 Lords, ladies, and attendants ; satyrs for a dance, 
 shepherds, shepherdesses, guards, &-c. 
 
 Scene, sometimes in Sicilia, sometimes in Bohemia. 
 
 ACT I. 
 
 SCJVE /.Sicilia. 
 Its' palace. 
 
 .Inteckamber in Lcon- 
 
 Etitcr Camillo and Architlamus. 
 Archidamus. 
 
 IF you shall chance, Camillo, to visit Bohemia, on 
 the like occasion whereon my services are now en 
 
 difference 
 
 foot, you shall see, as I have safe", great 
 betwixt our Bohemia and your Sicfliy. 
 
 ne justly owes him. 
 
 *lrch. Wherein our entertainment shall shame 
 us, we will be justified in our loves : for, indeed, 
 
 Cam. 'Beseech you, 
 
 lrch. Verily, I speak it in the freedom of my 
 knowledge : we cannot with such magnificence 
 
 in so rare I know not what to say. We will 
 
 give you sleepy drinks ; that your senses, unintelli- 
 gent of our insufiicience, may, though they can- 
 not praise us, as little accuse us. 
 
 Cam. You pay a great deal too dear, for what's 
 given freely. I Yet standing in rich place, I multiply, 
 
 .irc/i. Believe me, I speak as my understanding , With one we-thank-you, many thousands more 
 
 malice, or matter, to alter it. You have an un- 
 speakable comfort of your young prince Mamillius ; 
 it is a gentleman of the greatest promise, that e?er 
 came into my note. 
 
 Cam. I very well agree with you in the hopes of 
 him : it is a gallant child ; one that, indeed, phy- 
 sics the subject, 3 makes old hearts fresh : they, that 
 went on crutches ere he was born, desire yet their 
 life, to see him a man. 
 
 Arch. Would they else be content to die ? 
 Cam. Yes ; if there were no other excuse why 
 
 Cam. I think, this coming summer, the king ofl they s h ou ld desire to live. 
 Sicilia means to pav Bohemia the visitation which i.-.t if th tmo- Kiri n 
 
 If the king had no son, they would desire 
 to live on crutches till he had one. [Exeunt. 
 
 SCE.VC //. The same. *3 room of state in the 
 
 palace. Enter Leontes, Polixenes, Hermione, 
 
 Mamillius, Camillo, and attendants. 
 
 Pol. Nine changes of the wat'ry star have been 
 The shepherd's note, since we have left our throne 
 Without a burden : time as long again 
 Would be fill'd up, my brother, with our thanks : 
 
 p, 
 
 And yet we should, for perpetuity, 
 Go hence in debt : And therefore, like a cipher, 
 
 instructs me, and as mine honesty puts it to utter- 
 
 That go before it. 
 Leon. 
 
 Stay your thanks awhile ; 
 
 Cam. Sicilia cannot show himself over-kind to And pay them when you part. 
 Bohemia. They were trained together in their; Pol. Sir, that's to-morrow, 
 
 childhoods ; and there rooted betwixt thfrn then ' I am question'd by my fears, of what may chance, 
 such an affection, which cannot choo=e but branch Or breed upcn our absence : That may blow 
 -. Since their more mature dimities, and royal No sneaping* vinds at home, to make "us say, 
 issities, made separation of their society, their! This is put forth too truly ! Besides, I have stay'd 
 junters, though not personal, have been royally i To tire your royalty. 
 
 anurnied 1 with interchange of gifts, letters, loving' Leon. We are tougher, brother 
 
 embassies ; that they have seemed to be together. Than you can put us to't. 
 
 now 
 neces 
 enco 
 alto 
 
 though absent | shook hands, as over a vast ; 2 and 
 embraced, as it were, from the ends of opposed 
 winds. The heavens continue their loves ! 
 .irch. I think, there is not in the world either 
 
 il) Nobly supplied by substitution of embassies. 
 2) Wide waste of country. 
 
 Pol. No longer slay. 
 
 Leon. One seven-night longer. 
 Pol.. Yery sooth, to-morrow. 
 
 Leon. We'll part the time between's then : and 
 in that 
 
 (3) Affords a cordial to the ?tnte. (4) Nipping,
 
 276 
 
 WINTER'S TALE. 
 
 Act I. 
 
 I'll no gain-saying. 
 
 Pol. Press me not, 'beseech you, so ; 
 
 There is no tongue that moves, none, none i'the 
 
 world, 
 
 So soon as yours, could win me : so it should now, 
 Were there necessity in your request, although 
 'Twere needful I denied it. My affairs 
 Do even drag me homeward : which to hinder, 
 Were, in your love, a whip to me ; my stay, 
 To you a charge, and trouble : to save both, 
 Farewell, our brother. 
 
 Leon. Tongue-tied, our queen ? speak you. 
 
 Her. I had thought, sir, to have held my peace, 
 
 until 
 
 You had drawn oaths from him, not to stay. You, sir, 
 Charge him too coldly : Tell him, you are sure, 
 All in Bohemia's well : this satisfaction 
 The by-gone day proclaim'd ; say this to him, 
 He's beat from his best ward. 
 
 Leon. Well said, Hermione. 
 
 Her. To tell, he longs to see his son, were strong : 
 But let him say so then, and let him go ; 
 But let him swear so, and he shall not stay, 
 We'll thwack him hence with distaffs. 
 Yet of your royal presence [To Polixenes.] I'll ad- 
 venture 
 
 The borrow of a week. When at Bohemia 
 You take my lord, I'll give him my commission, 
 To let him there a month, behind the gest 1 
 Prefix'd for his parting : yet, good deed, 2 Leontes, 
 I love thee not ajar 3 o' the clock behind 
 What lady she her lord. You'll stay ? 
 
 Pol. ' No, madam. 
 
 Her. Nay, but you will ? 
 
 Pol. I may not, vcrilv. 
 
 Her. Verily! 
 
 You put me ofl'with limber" vows : But I, 
 Though you would seek to unsphere the stars with 
 
 oaths, 
 
 Should yet say, Sir, no going. Verily, 
 You shall not go ; a ladv's verily is 
 As potent as a lord's. Will you go yet? 
 Force me to keep you as a prisoner, " 
 Not like a guest ; so you shall pay your fees, 
 When you depart, and save your thanks. How say 
 
 you'/ 
 
 My prisoner ? or my guest ? by your dread verily, 
 One of them you shall be. 
 
 Pol. Your guest then, madam : 
 
 To be your prisoner, should import offending ; 
 Which is for me less easy to commit, 
 Than you to punish. 
 
 Her. Not your gaoler then, 
 
 But your kind hostess. Come, I'll question you 
 Of my lord's tricks, and yours, when you were 
 
 boys ; 
 You were pretty lordings 5 then. 
 
 Pol. We were, fair queen, 
 
 Two lads, that thought there was no more behind, 
 But such a day to-morrow as to-day, 
 And to be boy eternal. 
 
 Her. Was not my lord the verier v.-a<r o' the two ? 
 
 Pol. We were as twinn'd lambs, that did frisk 
 
 i' the sun, 
 
 And bleat the one at the other : what we chang'd, 
 Was innocence for innocence ; Vie. knew not 
 The doctrine of ill-doing, no, nor dream'd 
 That any did : Had we pursued that life, 
 And our weak spirits ne'er beeil higher rear'd 
 
 (1) Gests were the names ibf the stages where 
 the king appointed to lie, during a royal progress. 
 
 (2) Indeed. (3) Tick. (4) Flimsy. 
 (5) A diminutive oflords. ; 
 
 With stronger blood, we should have answer'd 
 
 heaven 
 
 Boldly, Not guilty ; the imposition clear'd, 
 Hereditary ours." 
 
 Her. By this we gather, 
 
 You have tripp'd since. 
 
 Pol. O my most sacred lady, 
 
 Temptations have since then been born to us : for 
 In those unfledg'd days was my wife a trirl ; 
 Your precious self had then not cross'd the eyes 
 Of my young play-fellow. 
 
 Her. Grace to boot ! 
 
 Of this make no conclusion ; lest you say, 
 Your queen and I are devils : Yet, go on ; 
 The oftc-nces we have made you do, we'll answer ; 
 If you first sinn'd with us, and that with us 
 You did continue fault, and that you slipp'd not 
 With any but with us. 
 
 Leon. Is he won yet ? 
 
 Her. He'll stay, my lord. 
 
 Leon. At my request, he would not. 
 
 Hermione, my dearest, thou never spok'st 
 To better purpose. 
 
 Her. Never ? 
 
 Leon. Never, hut once. 
 
 Her. What? have I twice said well? when 
 
 waa't before ? 
 I pr'ythce, tell me : Cram us with praise, and 
 
 make us 
 As fat as tame things : One good deed, dying 
 
 tonguelcss, 
 
 Slaughters a thousand, waiting upon that. 
 Our praises are our wages: You may ride us, 
 With one soft kiss, a thousand furlongs, ere 
 Vv'ith spur we heat an acre. But to the goal ; 
 My last good was, to entreat his stay ; 
 What was my first ? it has an elder sister, 
 Or I mistake you : O, would her name were Grace ! 
 But once before I spoke to the purpose. When ? 
 Nay, let me have't ; I long. 
 
 Leon. Why, that was when 
 
 Three crabbed months had sourM themselves to 
 
 death, 
 
 Ere I could make thee open thy white hand, 
 And clap thyself my love ; then didst thou utter, 
 
 a.'ii yours for ever. 
 
 Htr. It is Grace, indeed. 
 
 Why, lo you now, I have spoke to the purpose twice: 
 The one for ever earn'd a royal husband ; 
 The other, for some while a friend. 
 
 [Gii-fng- her hand to Polixenes. 
 
 Leon. Too hot, too hot : [1xidt. 
 
 To mintrle friendship far, is mingling bloods. 
 I have tremor cordis'' on me : my heart dances ; 
 But not. for joy, not joy. This entertainment 
 May a free face put on ; derive a liberty 
 From heartiness, from bounty, fertile bosom, 
 And well become the agent: it may, I grant: 
 But to be paddling palms, and pinching fingers, 
 As now they are ; and making practis'd smiles, 
 As in a looking-irlass ; and then to sigh, as 'twere 
 The inort o'the deer ; O, that is entertainment 
 My bosom likes not, nor my brows. Mamillius, 
 Art thou my boy ? 
 
 Jtlam. Ay, my good lord. 
 
 Leon. I'fecks ? 
 
 Why, that's my bawcock. 9 What, hast smutch'd 
 
 thy nose ? 
 They say, it's a copy out of mine. Come, captain. 
 
 6) Setting: aside original sin. 
 ~) Trembling of the heart. 
 
 8) The tune played at the death of the deer, 
 
 9) Hearty fellow,
 
 Scene II. 
 
 WINTER'S TALE. 
 
 277 
 
 We must be neat ; not neat, but cleanly, captain : 
 
 We are yours i'the garden: Shall's attend you 
 
 And yet the steer, the heifer, and the calf, there ? 
 
 Are all call'd, neat Still virginalling 1 Leon. To your own bents dispose you : you'll be 
 
 [Observing Polixenes and Hermione. found, 
 
 Upon his palm ? How now, you wanton calf? Be you beneath the sky: I am angling now, 
 Art thou my calf? Though you perceive me not how Igive line. 
 
 JIam. Yes, if you will, my lord. Go to, go to ! 
 
 Leon. Thou want'st a rough pash, and the shoots I f.istde. Observing Polixcnes and Hermione. 
 
 that I hare, 8 
 To be full like me : yet, they say, we arc 
 Almost as like as eggs ; women say so, 
 That will say any thing : But were they false 
 As o'er-died'blacks, as wind, as waters ; false 
 As dice are lo be wish'd, by one that fixes 
 No bourn 3 twixt his and mine ; yet were it true 
 
 How she holds up the neb, 10 the bill to him ! 
 And arms her with the boldness of a wife 
 To her allowing" husband! Gone already; 
 Inch-thick, knee-deep ; o'er head and ears a fork'd 
 
 one. 12 
 
 [Exeunt Polixenes, Hermione, and attendants. 
 Go, play, boy, play ; thy mother plays, and I 
 
 To say this boy were like me. Come, sir page, |Plav too ; but so disgrac'd a part, whose issue 
 Look on me with your welkin 4 eye : Sweet villain ! 'Will hiss me to my grave ; contempt and clamour 
 
 Most dear'st ! my collop ! Can thy dam ? may't 
 
 be? 
 
 Affection ! thy infection stabs the centre : 
 Thou dost ma'ke possible, things not so held, 
 Communicat'stwithdreams;--(Howcanthisbe?) 
 With what's unreal thou coactive art, 
 And fellow'st nothing : Then, 'tis very credent,* 
 Thou may'st co-join with something; and thou 
 
 dost ; 
 
 (And that beyond commission ; and I find it,) 
 And that to the infection of my brains, 
 And hardening of my brows. 
 
 Pd. 
 
 What means Siciha? 
 
 Her. He something seems unsettled. 
 
 Pol. 
 
 How, my lord ? 
 
 What cheer? how is't with you, best brother? 
 
 Her. 
 
 As if you held a brow of much distraction : 
 Are you mov'd, my lord ? 
 
 You look, 
 
 Leon. 
 
 No, in good earnest. 
 
 How sometimes nature will betray its folly, 
 
 Its tenderness, and make itself a pastime 
 
 To harder bosoms ! Looking on the lines 
 
 Ot my boy's face, methoughts, I did recoil 
 
 Twenty-three years ; and saw myself unbrerclf d, 
 
 In my green velvet coat ; my dagger muzzled, 
 
 Lest it should bite its master, aiul so prove, 
 
 As ornaments oft dd, too dangerous. 
 
 How like, methought, I then was to this kernel, 
 
 This squash, 6 this gentleman : mine honest friend, 
 
 Will you take eggs for money ." 
 
 .Mam. No, my lord, I'll fight. 
 
 Leon. You will ? why, happy in an be liis dole ! 3 
 
 My brother, 
 
 Are you so fond of your young prince, as we 
 Do s'eem to be of ours ? 
 
 Pol. If at. home, sir, 
 
 He's all my exercise, my mirth, my matter : 
 Now my sworn friend, and then mine enemy ; 
 My parasite, my soldier, statesman, all ; 
 He makes a July's day short as December ; 
 And, with his varying childness, cures in me 
 Thoughts that would thick my blood. 
 
 Leon. So stands this squire 
 
 Offic'd with me : We two will walk, my lord, 
 And leave you to your graver steps. Hermione, 
 How thou fov'at us, show in our brother's welcome ; 
 Let what is dear in Sicily, be cheap : 
 Nest to thyself, and my young rover, he's 
 Apparent' to my heart. 
 
 Her. If you would seek us, 
 
 (!).. Playing with her fingers as if on a spinnet. 
 
 (2) Thou wantest a rough head, and the budding 
 horns that I have. 
 
 (3) Boundary. (4) Blue. (5) Credible. 
 (6) Tea-cod. (7) Will you be cajoled ? 
 
 Will be my knell. Go, play, boy, play ; There 
 
 have been, 
 
 Or I am much deeeiv'd, cuckolds ere now ; 
 And many a man there is, even at this present, 
 Now, while I speak this, holds his wife by the arm, 
 That little thinks she has been sluic'd in his absence, 
 And his pond fish'd by his next neighbour, by 
 Sir Smile, his neighbour : nay, there's comfort in't, 
 Whiles other men have gates ; and those gates 
 
 open'd, 
 
 As mine, against their will : Should all despair 
 That have revolted wives, the tenth of mankind 
 Would hang themselves. Physic for't there is none ; 
 It is a bawdy planet, that will strike 
 Where 'tis predominant ; and 'tis powerful, think it, 
 From east, west, north, and south : Be it concluded, 
 No barricado for a belly ; know it ; 
 It will let in and out the enemy, 
 With bag and baggage : many a thousand of us 
 Have the disease, and feel't not. How now, boy? 
 
 Jlam. I am like you, they say. 
 
 Lton. Whv, that's some comfort. 
 
 What! Camillo there? 
 
 Cam. Av, my good lord. 
 
 Leon. Go play, Mamiliius ; thou'rt an honest 
 man. [Emt Mamiliius. 
 
 Camillo, this great sir will yet stay longer. 
 
 Cam. You had much ado to make his anchor hold : 
 When you cast out, it still came home. 
 
 Leon. Didst note it? 
 
 Cam. He would not slay at your petitions ; made 
 His business more material. 
 
 Leon. Didst perceive it ? 
 
 They're here with me already ; whispering, round- 
 ing, 13 
 
 Sicilia is a so-forlh : 'Tis far prone, 
 When I shall gust 14 it last. Howcame't, Camillo, 
 That he did stay ? 
 
 Cam. At the good queen's entreaty. 
 
 Leon. At the queen's, be't: good, should be 
 
 pertinent ; 
 
 But so it is, it is not. Was this taken 
 By any understanding pate but thine ? 
 For thV conceit is soaking, will draw in^ 
 More than the common blocks : Not noted, is'l, 
 But of the finer natures ? by some sevcrals, 
 Of head-piece extraordinary? lower messes, 11 
 Perchance, are to this business purblind : say. 
 
 Cam. Business, my lord ? I think, most under- 
 stand 
 Bohemia stays here longer. 
 
 (S) May his share of life be a happy one ! 
 
 (9) Heir apparent, next claimant. (10) Mouth. 
 
 (11) Approving. (12) A horned one, a cuckold. 
 
 (13) To round in the ear was to tell secretly. 
 
 (14) Taste. (15) Inferiors in rank. "
 
 276 
 
 WINTER'S TALE. 
 
 Act I. 
 
 Leon. Ha ? 
 
 Com. Stajs here longer 
 
 Leon. Ay, but why ? 
 
 Com. To satisfy your highness, and the entreaties 
 Of our most gracious mistress. 
 
 Leon. Satisfy 
 
 The entreaties of vour mistress ? satisfy ? 
 
 Let that suffice. J have trusted thee, Catnillo, 
 With all the nearest things to my heart, as well 
 My chamber-counsels : wherein, priest-like, thou 
 Hast cleans'd my bosom ; I from thee departed 
 Thy penitent reform'd : but we have been 
 Deceiv : d in thy integrity, decciv'd 
 In that which seems so. 
 
 Cam. Be it forbid, my lord ! 
 
 Leon. To bide upon't ; Thou art not honest : or, 
 If thou inclin'st that way, thou art. a coward; 
 Which hoxes 1 honesty behind, restraining 
 From course requir'd : Or else thou must be counted 
 A servant, grafted in my serious trust, 
 And therein negligent ; or else a fool, 
 That secst a game play'd home, the rich stake 
 
 drawn, 
 And tak'st it all for jest. 
 
 Cam. My gracious lord, 
 
 I may be negligent, foolish, and fearful ; 
 In every one of these no man is free, 
 JRut that his negligence, nis folly, fear, 
 Amons'st the infinite doings of the world, 
 Sometime puts forth : In your alia irs, my lord, 
 If ever I were wilful-negligent, 
 It was my folly ; if industriously 
 I play'd the fool, it was my negligence, 
 Not weighing well the end , if ever fearful 
 To do a thing, where I the issue doubted, 
 Whereof the execution did cry out 
 Against the non-performance, 'twas a fear 
 Which oft affects the wisest : these, my lord, 
 Are such allow'd infirmities, that honesty 
 Is never free of. But, 'beseech your grace, 
 Be plainer with me ; let me know my trespass 
 By its own visage: if I then deny it, 
 'Tis none of mine. 
 
 Lem. Have not you seen, Camillo, 
 
 (But that's past doubt: you have; or your eye-glass 
 Is thicker than a cuckold's horn ;) or heard 
 (For, to a vison so apparent, rumour 
 Cannot be mute,) or thought (for cogitation 
 Resides not in that man, that docs not think it,) 
 My wife is slippery? If thou wilt confess, 
 (Or else be impudently negative, 
 To have nor eyes, nor cars, nor thought,) then say, 
 My wife's a hobby-horse ; deserves a name 
 As rank as any flax-wench, that puts to 
 Before her troth-plight : say it, and justify it. 
 
 Cam. I would not be a stander-by, to hear 
 My sovereign mistress clouded so, without 
 My present vengeance taken : 'Shrew my heart, 
 You never spoke what did become you Ic'ss 
 Than this : which to reiterate, were sin 
 As deep as that, though true. 
 
 Leon. Is whispering nothing ? 
 
 Is leaning cheek to cheek ? is meeting noses ? 
 Kissing with inside lip ? stopping the career 
 Of laughter with a sigh ? (a note infallible 
 Of breaking honesty :) horsing foot on foot ? 
 Skulking in corners ? wishing clocks more swift ? 
 Hours, minutes? noon, midnight? and all eyes 
 
 blind 
 With the pin and web, 5 but theirs, theirs only, 
 
 (1) To hox is to hamstring. 
 
 (2) Disorders of the eye. 
 
 <3) Hour-glass. (4) Hasty. 
 
 That would unseen be wicked ? is this nothing? 
 Why, then the world, and all that's iu't, is nothing ; 
 The covering sky is nothing ; Bohemia nothing ; 
 My wife is nothing ; nor nothing have these nothings, 
 If Ihis be nothing. 
 
 Cam. Good my lord, be cur'd 
 
 Of this diseas'd opinion, and betimes ; 
 For 'tis most dangerous. 
 Leon. Say, it be ; 'tis true. 
 
 Cam. No, no, my lord. 
 
 Leon. It is ; you lie, you lie 
 
 I say, thou licst, Camillo, and I hate thee ; 
 Pronounce thee a gross lout, a mindless slave , 
 Or else a hovering temporizer, that 
 Canst with thine eyes at once see good and evil, 
 Inclining to them both : Were my wife's liver 
 Infected as her life, she would not live 
 The running of one glass. 3 
 
 Cam. Who does infect her ? 
 
 Leon. Why he, that wears her like her medal, 
 
 banging 
 
 About his neck, Bohemia : Who if I 
 Had servants true about me ; that bare eyes 
 To see alike mine honour as their profits, 
 Their own particular thrifts, they would do that 
 Which should undo more doing: Ay, and thou 
 His cup-bearer, whom I from meaner form 
 Have bcnch'd, and rcar'd to worship ; who may'st 
 
 see 
 
 Plainly, as heaven sees earth, and earth sees heaven, 
 How I am galled mighl.'st bespice a cup, 
 To uivc mine enemy a lasting wink ; 
 Which draught to me were cordial. 
 
 Cam-. Sir, my lord, 
 
 1 could do this ; and that with no rash* potion, 
 But with a ling'ring dram, that should not work 
 Maliciously* like poison : But I cannot 
 Believe this crack to be in my dread mistress, 
 So sovereignly being honourable. 
 [ have lov'd thee, 
 
 Leon. Make't thy question, and go lot. 
 
 Dost think, I am so_ muddy, so unsettled, 
 To appoint myself in this vexation ? sully 
 The purity and whiteness of my sheets, 
 kVhich to preserve is sleep ; which being spotted, 
 's proads, thorns, nettles, tails of wasps? 
 jive scandal to the blood o' the prince my son, 
 kYho, I do think is mine, and love as mine ; 
 iVithoiit ripe moving to't ? Would I do this ? 
 Could man so blench? 6 
 
 Cam. I must believe you, sir ; 
 
 '. do ; and will fetch off Bohemia for't: 
 ?rpvidcd, that when he's remov'd, your highness 
 iVill take again your queen, as yours at first; 
 Svcn for your son's sake ; and, thereby, for scaling 
 The injury of tongues, in courts and kingdoms 
 inown and allied to yours. 
 
 Leon. Thou dost advise me, 
 
 liven so as I mine own course have set down : 
 !'ll give no blemish to her honour, none. 
 
 Cam. My lord, . 
 
 3o then ; and with a. countenance as clear 
 \s friendship wears at feasts, keep with Bohemia, 
 \nd with your queen : I am his cupbearer ; 
 f from me he have wholesome beverage, 
 \ccount me not your servant. 
 . Leon. This is all : 
 
 )o't, and thou hast the one half of my heart; 
 )o't not, thou splitt'st thine own. 
 
 Cam. I'll do't, my lord. 
 
 (5} Maliciously, with effects openly hurtful. 
 (6) f. e. Could any man so start off from pro 
 rietv 1
 
 Seen* //. 
 
 WINTER'S TALE. 
 
 279 
 
 Leon. I will seem friendly, as Ihou hast advis'dj Since I am charg'd in honour, and by him 
 
 me. [JSa-il.jThat I think honourable: Therefore, mark tnf 
 
 Cam. miserable lady ! But, for me, 
 What case stand I in ? I must be the poisoner 
 Of good Polixenes : and my ground to do't 
 Is the obedience to a master ; one ? 
 Who, in rebellion with himself, will hare 
 All that are his, so too. To do this deed, 
 Promotion follows : Ifl could find example 
 Of thousands, that had struck anointed lungs, 
 And flourished after, I'd not do't: but since 
 Nor brass, nor stone, nor parchment, bears not one, 
 Let villany itself forswear't. I must 
 Forsake the court : to do't, or no, is certain 
 To me a break-neck. Happy star, reign now ! 
 Here comes Bohemia. 
 
 Enter Pclixcnes. 
 
 Pol. This is strange ! methinks, 
 
 My favour here begins to warp. iS'ot speak? 
 
 Good-day, Camillo. 
 
 Cam. Hail, most royal sir ! 
 
 Pol. What is the news i'tho court? 
 
 Cam. None rare, my lord. 
 
 Pol. The king hath on him such a countenance, 
 As he had lost some province, and a region, 
 Lov'd as he loves himself: even now I met him 
 With customary compliment ; when lie, 
 Wafting his eyes to the contrary, and failing 
 A lip of much contempt, speeds from me ; and 
 So leaves me to consider what is breeding, 
 That changes thus his manners. 
 
 Cam. I dare not know, ray lord. 
 
 Pol. How! dare not? do* not. Do you know, 
 
 and dare not 
 
 Be intelligent to me ? 'Tis thereabouts ; 
 For, to yourself, what you do know, you must ; 
 And cannot say, you dare not. Good Camillo, 
 Your chang'd complexions are to me a mirror 
 Which shows me mine chang'd too : for I must be 
 A party in this alteration, finding 
 Myself thus altefd v;ith it. 
 
 "Cam. There is a sickness 
 
 Which puts some of us in distemper ; but 
 I cannot name the disease ; and it is caught 
 Of you that vet are well. 
 
 Pol. How ! caught of me ? 
 
 Make me not sighted like the basilisk : 
 I have look'd on thousands, who have sped the better 
 
 By my regard, but kill'd none so. Camillo, 
 
 As you arc certainly a gentleman ; thereto 
 Clerk-like, experiehc'd, which no less adorns 
 Our gentry, than our parents' noble names, 
 In whose success 1 we are gentle, 2 I beseech you, 
 If you know aught which does behove my know- 
 ledge 
 
 Thereof to be inform'd, imprison it not 
 In ignorant concealment. 
 
 Cam. I may not answer. 
 
 Pol. A. sickness caught of me, and yet I well ! 
 I must be answer'd. Dost thou hear, Camillo, 
 I c6njure thee, by all the parts of man, 
 
 counsel ; 
 
 Which must be even as swiftly follow'd. as 
 I mean to utter it ; or both yourself ana me 
 Crv, lost, and so good-night. 
 
 Pol. On, good Camillo. 
 
 Cam. I am appointed Him to murder you. 1 
 
 Pd. By whom, Camillo ? 
 
 Cam. By the king. 
 
 Pol. For what? 
 
 Cam. He thinks, nay, with all confidence he 
 
 swears, 
 
 As he had seen't, or been an instrument 
 To vice* you to't, that you have touch'd his queen 
 Forbiddenly. 
 
 Pol. O, then my best blood turn 
 
 To an infected jelly ; and my name 
 Be yok'd with his, that did betray the best! 
 Turn then my freshest reputation to 
 A savour, that may strike the dullest nostril 
 Where I arrive ; and my approach be shunn'd, 
 Nay, hated too, worse than the great'st infection 
 That e'er was heard, or read ! 
 
 Caw. Swear his thought over 
 
 By eacli particular star in heaven, and 
 By .".!! their influences, you may as well 
 Forbid the sea for to obey the moon, 
 As or, by oath, remove, or counsel, shake 
 The fabric of his folly ; whose foundation 
 Is pil'd upon his faith, 5 and will continue 
 The standing of lus body. 
 
 Pol. How should this crow ? 
 
 Cnw. I know not : but, I am sure, 'tis safer to 
 Avoid what's grown, than question how 'tis born. 
 If therefore you dare trust my honesty, 
 That lies enclosed in this trunk, which you 
 Shall bear along impawn'd, away to-night. 
 Your followers I will whisper to the business ; 
 And will, by twos, and threes, at several postern?, 
 Clear them o' the city : For myself, I'll put 
 My fortunes to your "service, which are here 
 By this discovery lost. Be not uncertain ; 
 For, by the honour of my parents, I 
 Have utter'd truth : which if you seek to prove, 
 I dare not stand by ; nor shall you be safer 
 Than one condemn'd by the king's own mouth, 
 
 thereon 
 His execution sworn. 
 
 Pol. I do believe thee : 
 
 I saw his heart in his face. Give me thy hand ; 
 Be pilot to me, and thy places shall 
 Still neighbour mine :"My ships are ready, and 
 My people did expect my hence departure 
 Two days ag^o. This jealousy 
 
 Is for a precious creature : as she's rare, 
 Must it be great ; and, as his person's mighty, 
 Must it be violent ; and as he does conceive 
 He is dishonour'd by a man which ever 
 Profess'd to him, why, his revenges must 
 In that be made more bitter. Fear o'crshadcs me : 
 Good expedition be my friend, and comfort 
 
 Which honour docs acknowledge, whereof theiThe gracious queen, part of his theme, but nothing 
 least Of his ill-ta'en suspicion ! Come, Camillo ; 
 
 I will respect thee as a father, if 
 Thou bear'st my life off hence : Let us avoid. 
 
 Cam. It is in mine authority, to command 
 The keys of all the posterns : Please your highness 
 To take the urgent hour : come, sir, away. 
 
 '[Exeunt. 
 
 Is not this suit of mine, that thou declare 
 
 What incidency thou dost guess of harm 
 
 Is creeping toward me ; how far oft", how near ; 
 
 Which way to be prevented, if to be ; 
 
 If not, how best to bear it. 
 
 Cam. Sir, I'll tell you ; 
 
 (1) For succession. 
 - (2) Gentle was opposed to simple ; well born. 
 
 (3) i. e. I am the person appointed, &c. 
 
 (4) Draw. (5) Settled belief.
 
 WINTER'S TALfc. 
 
 Art 11. 
 
 ACT II. 
 
 SCENE LThe same. Enter Hermione, Ma- 
 millius, and Ladies. 
 
 Her. Take the boy to you : he so troubles me, 
 'Tis past enduring. 
 
 1 Lady. Come, my gracious lord, 
 
 Shall I be your play-fellow ? 
 
 Mam. " No, I'll none of you. 
 
 1 Lady. Why, my sweet lord ? 
 
 Mam. You'll kiss me hard ; and speak to me as ii 
 I were a baby still. I love you better. 
 
 2 Lady. And why so, my good lord ? 
 
 Mam, Not for because 
 
 . Your brows are blacker : yet black brows, they sa) r , 
 Become some women best ; so that there be not 
 Too much hair there, but in a semi-circle, 
 Or half-moon made with a pen. 
 2 Lady. Who taught you this ? 
 
 Mam. I learn'd it out of women's faces. Pray 
 
 now 
 What colour are your eye-brows ? 
 
 1 Lady. Blue, my lord. 
 Mam. Nay, that's a mock : I have seen a lady's 
 
 nose 
 That has been blue, but not her eye-brows. 
 
 2 Lady. Hark ye : 
 The queen, your mother, rounds apace : we shall 
 Present our services to a fine new prince, 
 
 One of these days ; and then you'd wanton with us, 
 If we would have you. 
 
 1 Lady. She is spread of late 
 
 Into a goodly bulk : Good time encounter her ! 
 
 Her. What wisdom stirs amongst you ? Come, 
 
 sir, now 
 
 I am for you again : Pray you sit by us, 
 And tell 's a tale. 
 
 Mam. Merry, or sad, shall't be ? 
 
 Her. As merry as you will. 
 
 Mam. A sad tale's best for winter : 
 
 I have one of sprites and goblins. 
 
 Her. Let's have that, sir. 
 
 Come on, sit down : Come on, and do your best 
 To fright me with your sprites : you're powerful 
 at it 
 
 Mam. There was a man, 
 
 Her. Nay, come, sit down ; then on. 
 
 Mam. Dwelt by a church-yard ; I will tell it 
 
 softly ; 
 Yon crickets shall not hear it. 
 
 Her. Come on, then, 
 
 And give't me in mine ear. 
 
 Enter Leontes, Antigonus, Lords, and others. 
 
 Leon. Was he met there? his train? Camillo 
 with him ? 
 
 1 Lord. Behind the tuft of pines I met them ; 
 
 never 
 
 Saw I men scour so on their way : I ey'd them 
 Even to their ships. 
 
 Leon. How bless'd am I 
 
 In my just censure? 1 in my true opinion'/ 
 Alack, for lesser knowledge ! 2 How accurs'd, 
 In being so blest ! There may be in the cup 
 A spider* steep'd, and one may drink ; depart, 
 And yet partake no venom ; for his knowledge 
 Is not infected : but if one present 
 The abhorr'd ingredient to his ey_e, make known 
 How he hath drank, he cracks his gorge, his sides, 
 
 (1) Judgment. 
 
 (2J O that my knowledge were less ! 
 (S) Spiders were esteemed poisonou* in our au- 
 thor's time. 
 
 With violent hefts: 4 I have drank, and seen the 
 
 spider. 
 Camillo was his help in this, his pander : 
 
 He has discover'd my design, and I 
 Remain a pinch'd thin? : 4 yea, a very trick 
 For them to play at will : How came the posterns 
 So easily open ? 
 
 1 Lord. By his great authority ; 
 
 Which often hath no less prevail'd than so, 
 On your command. 
 
 Leon. I know't too well. 
 
 Give me the boy ; I am glad, you did not nurse him : 
 Though he does bear some signs of me, yet you 
 Have too much blood in him. 
 
 Her. What is this ? sport ? 
 
 Leon. Bear the boy hence, he shall not come 
 
 about her ; 
 
 Away with him : and let her sport herself 
 With that she's big with ; for 'tis Polixenes 
 Has made thee swell thus. 
 
 Her. But I'd say, he had not, 
 
 And, I'll be sworn you would believe my saying, 
 Howe'er you lean to' the nayward. 
 
 Leon. You, my lords, 
 
 Look on her, mark her well ; be but about 
 To say, she is a goodly lady, and 
 The justice of your hearts will thereto add, 
 ''Tis pity she's not honest, honourable : 
 Praise her but for this her without-door form. 
 (Which, on my faith, deserves high speech,) and 
 
 straight 
 
 The shrug, the hum, or ha ; these petty brands, 
 That calumny doth use : 0, I am out, 
 That mercy does ; for calumny will sear 6 
 Virtue itself: These shrugs, these hums, and ha's, 
 When you have said, she's goodly, come between, 
 Ere you can say she's honest : But be it known, 
 From him that has most cause to grieve it should be, 
 She's an adultress. 
 
 Her. Should a villain say so, 
 
 The most replenish'd villain in the world, 
 He were as much more villain : you, my Iqrd, 
 Do but mistake. 
 
 Leon. ' You have mistook, my lady, 
 
 Polixenes for Leontes : O thou thing, 
 Which I'll not call a creature of thy place, 
 Lest barbarism, making me the precedent, 
 Should a like language use to all degrees, 
 And mannerly distinguishment leave out 
 Betwixt the prince and beggar ! I have said, 
 she's an adultress ; I have said with whom : 
 VIore, she's a traitor ; and Camillo is 
 A federary' with her ; and one that knows 
 iVhat she should shame to know herself, 
 ?ut 8 with her most vile principal, that she's 
 A bed-swerver, even as bad as those 
 That vulgars give bold titles ; a.y, and privy 
 To this their late escape. 
 
 Her. No, by my life, 
 
 'rivy to none of this : How will this grieve you, 
 iVhen you shall come to clearer knowledge, that 
 fou thus have publish'd me ? Gentle my lord, 
 f ou scarce can right me throughly then, to say 
 fou did mistake. 
 
 Leon. No, no ; if I mistake 
 
 In those foundations which I build upon, 
 
 Heayings. 
 
 A thing pinched out of clouts, a puppet 
 
 Brand as infamous. (7) Confederate. 
 
 Only.
 
 Scene //. 
 
 WINTER'S TALE. 
 
 281 
 
 The centre is not big enough to bear 
 A school-boy's top. Away with her to prison : 
 He, who shall speak for her, is afar off guilty, 1 
 But that he speaks. 2 
 
 Her. There's some ill planet reigns : 
 
 I must be patient, till the heavens look 
 
 With an aspect more favourable. Good my 
 
 lords, 
 
 I am not prone to weeping, as our sex 
 Commonly are : the want of which vain dew, 
 Perchance, shall dry your pities : but I have 
 That honourable gnel lodg'd here, which burns 
 Worse than tears drown : 'Beseech you all, my 
 
 1 Jm. If it be go, 
 
 We need no grave to bury honesty ; 
 I There's not a grain of it, the face to sweeten 
 Of the whole dungy earth. 
 
 ' Leon. Whet! lack I credit? 
 
 1 Lord. I had rather you did lack, than I, my 
 
 lord, 
 
 Upon this ground : and more it would content me 
 To have her honour true, than your suspicion ; 
 Be blam'd fov't how you might, 
 
 Leon. Why, what need we 
 
 Commune with you of this ? but rather follow 
 Our forceful instigation. Our prerogative 
 
 lords, 
 
 With thoughts so qualified as your charities 
 Shall best'instruct you, measure me ; and so 
 The king's will be perform'd ! 
 
 Leon. Shall I be heard ? We need no more of your advice : the matter, 
 
 ITb the guards. The loss, the gain, the ordering on't, is all 
 
 Calls not your counsels ; but our natural goodness 
 Imparts this : which, if you (or stupified, 
 Or seeming so in skill,) cannot, or will not, 
 Relish as truth, like us ; inform yourselves, 
 
 Her. Who is't, that goes with me ? 'Beseech 
 
 your highness, 
 
 My women may be with me ; for, you see, 
 My plight requires it. Do not weep, good fools ; 
 There is no cause: when you shall know, your 
 
 mistress 
 
 Has deserv'd prison, then abound in tears, 
 As I come out : this action, I now go on, 
 Is for my better grace. Adieu, my lord : 
 I never wish'd to see you sorry ; now, 
 
 I trust, I shall. My women, come ; you have 
 
 leave. 
 
 Leon. Go, do our bidding ; hence. 
 
 [Exeunt Queen and Ladies. 
 
 1 Lord. 'Beseech your highness, call the queen 
 again. 
 
 jlnt. Be certain what you do, sir ; lest your 
 
 justice 
 
 Prove violence ; in the which three great ones suffer, 
 Yourself, your queen, your son. 
 
 1 Lord. For her, my lord, 
 
 I dare my life lay down, and will do't, sir, 
 Please you to accept it, that the queen is spotless 
 I'the eyes of heaven, and to you ; I mean, 
 In this' which you accuse her. 
 
 .int.. If it prove 
 
 She's otherwise, I'll keep my stables 3 where 
 I lodge my wife ; I'll go in couples with her ; 
 Than when I feel, and see her, no further trust her ; 
 For every inch of woman in the world, 
 Ay, every dram of woman's flesh, is false, 
 If' she be. 
 
 I eon. Hold your peaces. 
 
 1 Lard. Good my lord, 
 
 +1nt. It is for you we speak, not for ourselves : 
 You are abus'd, and by some putter-on, 4 
 That will be damn'd for't ; would I knew the 
 
 villain, 
 
 I would Innd-damn him: Be she honotir-flaw'd, 
 I have three daughters ; the eldest is eleven ; 
 The second, and the third, nine, and some five ; 
 If this prove true, they'll pay for't : by mine 
 
 honour, 
 
 I'll geld them all ; fourteen they shall not see, 
 To bring false generations : they are co-heirs ; 
 And I had rather glib myself, than they 
 Should not produce fair issue. 
 
 Leon. 
 
 Cease ; no more. 
 
 You smell this business with a sense as cold 
 As is a dead man's nose : I see't, and feel't, 
 As you feel doing thus ; and see withal 
 The instruments that feel. 
 
 !1) Remotely guilty. 
 3) Take my station. 
 
 (2) In merely speaking. 
 (4) Instigator. 
 
 J roperly ours. 
 
 .2)).'. And I wish, my liege, 
 
 Fou had only in your silent judgment tried it, 
 kVithout more overture. 
 
 Leon. How could that be ? 
 
 Either thou art most ignorant by age, 
 Or th'ou wert born a fool. Camillo's flight, 
 \dded to their familiarity, 
 'Which was as gross as ever touch'd conjecture 
 That lack'd sight only, nought for approbation, 1 
 But only seeing, all other circumstances 
 Made up to the deed,) doth push on this proceeding; 
 Vet, for a greater confirmation, 
 [For, in an act of this importance, 'twere 
 Most piteous to be wild,) I hare despatch'd in post, 
 To sacred Delphos, to Apollo's temple, 
 Cleomenes and Dion, whom you know 
 Of stufPd sufficiency; 6 Now) from the oracle 
 They will bring all ; w!.c>e spiritual counsel had, 
 Shall step, or spur me. Have I done well ? 
 
 1 Lord. Well done, my lord. 
 
 Leon. Though I am satisfied, and need no more 
 Than what I know, yet shall the oracle 
 Give rest to the minds of others ; such as he, 
 Whose ignorant credulity will not 
 Come up to the truth : So have we thought it good, 
 From our free person she should be confin'd ; 
 Lest that the treachery of the two, fled hence, 
 Be left her to perform. Come, follow us : 
 We are to speak in public : for this business 
 Will raise us all. 
 
 Ant. [Aside.] To laughter, as I take it, 
 If the good truth were known. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE II. The .tame. The outer room oj 
 prison. Enter Paulina and attendants. 
 
 Paul. The keeper of the prison, call to him ; 
 
 [Exit an attendant. 
 
 Let him have knowledge who I am. Good lady ! 
 No court in Europe is too good for thec, 
 What dost thou then in prison ? Now, good sir, 
 
 Re-enter attendant, with the Keeper. 
 You know me, do you not? 
 
 Keep. For a worthy lady, 
 
 And one whom much I honour. 
 
 Paul. i Pray you, then, 
 
 Conduct me to the queen. 
 
 Keep. I may not, madam ; to the contrary 
 I have express commandment. 
 
 Paul. Here's ado, 
 To lock up honesty and honour from 
 The access of gentle visitors ! Is it lawful, 
 
 (5) Proof. 
 
 (6) Of abilities more than sufficient*
 
 2852 
 
 WINTER'S TALE. 
 
 Act IL 
 
 Pray you, to see her women ? any of them ? 
 Emilia? 
 
 Keep. So please you, madam, to put 
 Apart these your attendants, I shall bring 
 Emilia forth. 
 
 Paul. I pray now, call her. 
 
 Withdraw yourselves. [Exeunt attend. 
 
 Keep. And, madam, 
 
 I must be present at your conference. 
 
 Paid. Well, be it so, pr'ythee. [Exit Keeper. 
 Here's such ado to make no stain a stain, 
 As passes colouring. 
 
 Re-enter Keeper, with Emilia. 
 
 Dear gentlewoman, now f ares our gracious lady ? 
 
 Emil. As well as one so great, and so forlorn, 
 May hold together : On her frights, and griefs, 
 (Which never tender lady hathTborne greater,) 
 bhe is, something before her time, dcllver'd. 
 
 Paul. A boy ? 
 
 Emil. A daughter ; and a goodly babe, 
 
 Lusty, and like to live : the queen receives 
 Much comfort in't : says, My poor prisoner, 
 J am innocent as you. 
 
 Paul. I dare be sworn : 
 
 These dangerous unsafe luncs 1 o'the king ! be- 
 
 shrew them ! 
 
 He must be told on't, and he shall : the office 
 Becomes a woman best ; I'll take it upon me : 
 If I prove honey-mouthed, let my tongue blister ; 
 And never to my red-look'd anger be 
 The trumpet any more : Pray you, Emilia, 
 Commend my best obedience to the queen ; 
 If she dares trust me with her little babe, 
 I'll show't the kincr, and undertake to be 
 Her advocate to th' loudest : We do not know 
 How he may soften at the sight o'thc child ; 
 The silence often of pure innocence 
 Persuades, when speaking fails. 
 
 Emil. Most worthy madam, 
 
 Your honour, and your goodness, is so evident, 
 That your free undertaking cannot miss 
 A thriving 1 issue ; there is no ladv living, 
 So meet for this great errand : Please your lady- 
 ship 
 
 To visit the next room, I'll presently 
 Acquaint the queen of your most noble offer ; 
 Who, but to-day, hammer'd of this design ; 
 But durst not tempt a minister of honour, 
 Lest she should be denied. 
 
 Paul. Tell her, Emilia, 
 
 I'll use that tongue I have : if wit flow from it, 
 As boldness from my bosom, let it not be doubted 
 I shall do good. 
 
 Emil. Now be you blest for it ! 
 
 I'll to the queen : Please you, come something 
 nearer. 
 
 Keep. Madam, iPt please the queen to send the 
 
 babe, 
 
 I know not what I shall incur, to pass it, 
 Having no warrant. 
 
 Paul. You need not fear it, sjr : 
 
 The child was prisoner to the womb ; and is, 
 
 By law and process of great nature, thence 
 Free'd and enfranchis'd : net a party to 
 The anger of the king ; nor guilty of, 
 If any be, the trespass of the queen. 
 
 Keep. 1 do believe it. 
 
 Paul. Dp not you fear : upon 
 
 Mine honour I will stand 'twixt you and danger. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 (!) Frenzies. (2) Mark and aim. (3) Alone. 
 
 SCEJVE II I. The same, rf room in the valace. 
 Enter Leontes, Antigonus, Lords, ana other 
 attendants. 
 
 Leon. Nor night, nor day, no rest: It is but 
 
 weakness 
 
 To bear the matter thus ; mere weakness, if 
 The cause were not in being : part o'the cause, 
 She, the adultress ; for the harlot king 
 Is quite beyond mine arm, out of the blank 
 And level* of my brain, plot-proof: but she 
 I can hook to me : Say, that she were gone, 
 Given to the fire, a moiety of my rest 
 Might come to me again. Who's there ? 
 
 IJUUn. My lord? 
 
 [Advancing. 
 
 Leon. How does the boy ? 
 
 1 Jlttcn. lie took good rest to-night ; 
 
 'Tis hop'd, his sickness is discharg'd. 
 
 Leon. To see, 
 
 His nobleness ! 
 
 Conceiving the dishonour of his mother, 
 He straight deelin'd, droop'd, took it deeply ; 
 Fasten'd and fix'd the shame on't in himself ; 
 Threw off his spirit, his appetite, his sleep, 
 And downright languish'd. Leave me solely:* 
 
 zo, 
 See how he fares. [Exit attend.] Fie, fie ! no 
 
 thought of him ; 
 
 The very thought of my revenges that way 
 Recoil upon me : in himself too mighty ; 
 Ai:d in his parties, his alliance, Let him be, 
 Until a time may serve : for present vengeance, 
 Take it on her. Camillo and Polixenes 
 Laugh at me ; make their pastime at my sorrow : 
 They should not laugh, if I could reach them ; nor 
 Shall she, within my power. 
 
 Enter Paulina, with a child. 
 
 1 Lord. You must not enter. 
 
 Paul. Nay, rather, good my lords, be second 
 
 to me: 
 
 Fear you his tyrannous passion more, alas, 
 Than the queen's life ? a gracious innocent soul , 
 More free, than he is jealous. 
 
 Jlnt. That's enough. 
 
 1 Jlllen. Madam, he hath not slept to-night ; 
 
 commanded 
 None should come at him. 
 
 Paul. Not so hot, good sir ; 
 
 I come to bring him sleep. 'Tis such as you, 
 That creep like shadows by him, and do s'igh 
 At each his needless heavings, such as you 
 Nourish the cause of his awaking : I 
 Do come with words as med'cinal as true ; 
 Honest, as either ; to purge him of that humour, 
 That presses him from sleep. 
 
 Leon. What noise there, ho ? 
 
 Paul. No noi?e, my lord ; but needful conference, 
 About some gossips "for your highness. 
 
 Leon. How ? 
 
 Away with that audacious lady : Antigonus, 
 [ charg'd thee, that she should not come about me ; 
 I knew she would. 
 
 Jlnt. I told her so, my lord, 
 
 3n your displeasure's peril, and on mine, 
 She should not visit you. 
 
 Leon. What, canst not rule her ? 
 
 Paul. From all dishonesty, he can : in this, 
 [Unless he take the course that you have done, 
 Commit me, for committing honour,) trust it, 
 He shall not rule me. 
 
 Ant. Lp you now ; you hear ! 
 
 When she will take the rein, I let her run ;
 
 WINTER'S TALE. 
 
 283 
 
 But she'll not stumble. 
 Paul. 
 
 Good my liege, I come, 
 
 And, I beseech you, hear me, who profess 
 Myself your loyal servant, your physician, 
 Your most obedient counsellor ; yet that dare 
 Less appear so, in comforting your evils,' 
 Than such as most seem yours : I say, I come 
 From your good queen. 
 
 Leon. Good queen ! 
 
 Paul. Good queen, my lord, good queen : I say, 
 
 rood queen ; 
 
 And would by combat make her good, so were I 
 A man, the worst- about you. 
 
 Leon. Force her hence. 
 
 Paul. Let him that makes but trifles of his eyes, 
 First hand me : on mine own accord, I'll off; 
 But, first, I'll do my errand. The good queen, 
 For she is good, hath brought you forth a daughter ; 
 Here 'tis ; commends it to your blessing. 
 
 (Laying down the child. 
 
 Leon. Out! 
 
 A mankind 3 witch ! Hence with her, out o'door : 
 A most intelligencing bawd ! 
 
 Paul. Not so : 
 
 I am as ignorant in that, as you 
 In so entitling me : and no less honest 
 Than you are mad ; which is enough, I'll warrant, 
 
 The very mould and frame of hand, nail, finger : 
 And thou, good goddess nature, which host made it 
 So like to him that got it, if thou hast 
 The ordering of the mind too, 'monprst all colours 
 No yellow 8 in't ; lest she suspect, as he does, 
 Her children not her husband's! 
 
 Leon. A gross hag ! 
 
 And, lozel, 9 thou art worthy to be hang'd, 
 That wilt not stay her tongue. 
 
 .Int. Hang all the husbands 
 
 That cannot do that feat, you'll 'leave yourself 
 Hardly one subject. 
 
 Leon. Once more, take her hence. 
 
 Paul. A most unworthy and unnatural lord 
 
 Can do no more. 
 Leon. 
 Paid. 
 
 I'll have thcc burn'd. 
 
 I care not : 
 
 It is a heretic, that m.ikes the fire, 
 
 Not she, which burns in't. I'll not call you tyrant ; 
 
 But this most cruel usage of your queen 
 
 (Not able to produce more accusation 
 
 Than your ov.-n weak-bin j'd fancy,) something 
 
 savours 
 
 Of tyranny, and will ignoble make you, 
 Yeaj scandalous to the world. 
 
 Leer,. On your allegiance, 
 
 Out of the chamber with her. Were I a tyrant, 
 Where were her life ? she durst not call me so, 
 
 If she did know me one. Awav with her. 
 
 As this world goes, to pass for honest. 
 
 Leon. Traitors! 
 
 Will you not push her out? Give her the bastard : j Paul. I pray you, do net push me ; I'll be gone. 
 Thou dotard, [To Antiaronus.] thou art woman- Look to your babe, my lord; 'tis yours: Jove send 
 
 tir'd,* unroosted 
 
 By thy dame Partlet here, take up the bastard ; 
 Tak't'up, I say ; giv't to thy crone. 5 
 
 Paul. For ever 
 
 Unvenerable be thy hands, if thou 
 Tak'st up the princess, by that forced 6 baseness 
 Which he has put upou't ! 
 
 Leon. 
 
 He dreads his wife. 
 
 Paid. Sol would you did ; then, 'twere past all 
 
 doubt, 
 You'd call your children yours. 
 
 A better guiding spirit! What need these hands? 
 You that are thus so tender o'er his follies, 
 Will never do Mm good, not one of you. 
 So, so : Farewell ; we are gone. [Exit. 
 
 Leon. Thou, traitor, hast set on thy wife to this. 
 My child ? away with't ! even thou, that hast 
 A heart so tender o'er it, take it hence, 
 
 Leon. 
 
 Jlnt. I am none, by this good light. 
 
 A nest of traitors! 
 
 Paul. 
 
 Nor I ; nor any, 
 
 But one, that's here ; and that's himself: for he 
 The sacred honour of himself, his queen's, 
 His hopeful son's, his babe's, betrays to slander, 
 Whose sting is sharper than the sword's ; and will 
 
 not 
 
 (For, as the case now stands, it is a curse 
 He cannot be compell'd to't,) once remove 
 The root of his opinion, which is rotten, 
 As ever oak, or stone, was sound. 
 
 Leon. A callat, 7 
 
 Of boundless tongue : who late hath beat her hus- 
 band, 
 
 And now baits me ! This brat is none of mine ; 
 It is the issue of Polixenes : 
 Hence with it ; and, together with the dam, 
 Commit them to the fire. 
 
 Paul. It is yours ; 
 
 And, might we lay the old proverb to your charge, 
 So like you, 'tis the worse. Behold, my lords, 
 Although the print be little, the whole matter 
 And copy of the father : eye, nose, lip, 
 
 And sec it instantly consum'd with fire ; 
 Even thou, and none but thou. Take it up straight : 
 Within this hour bring me word 'tis done, 
 (And by <rocd testimony,) or I'll seize thy life, 
 With what thou else call'st thine : If thou refuse, 
 And wilt encounter with my wrath, say so ; 
 The bastard brains with these my proper hands 
 Shall I dash out. Go, take it to the fire ; 
 For thou selt'st on thy wife. 
 
 .Lit. I did not, sir: 
 
 These lords, my noble fellows, if they please, 
 Can clear me in't. 
 
 1 Lord. We can ; my royal liege, 
 
 He is not guilty of her coming hither. 
 
 Leon. You are liars all. 
 
 1 Lord. 'Beseech your highness, give us betUr 
 
 credit : 
 
 We have always truly serv'd you ; and beseech 
 So to esteem of us : And on our knees we beg 
 (As recompense of our dear services, 
 Past and to come,) that you do change this pur- 
 pose ; 
 
 Which, being so horrible, so bloody, must 
 Lead on to some foul issue : We all kneel. 
 
 Leon. I am a feather for each wind that blows 
 Shall I live on, to see this bastard kneel 
 And call me father? Better burn it now, 
 
 The tricK of his frown, his forehead; nay, the valley, j Than curse it then. But be it ; let it live : 
 The pretty dimples of his chin, and" cheek; his jit shall not neither. You, sir, come YOU hither; 
 
 (1) Abetting your ill courses, 
 
 S3) Masculine. 
 4) Peeked by a woman ; hen-pe-ked. 
 (5) Worn-out old woman. 
 
 (2) Lowest. 
 
 [To Antigonus. 
 You, that have been so tenderly officious 
 
 (6) Forced is false ; uttered with violence to truth 
 
 (7) Trull. (S) The colour of jealousy. 
 
 (9) Worthless fellow. v ,,
 
 WINTER'S TALE. 
 
 Jet ill. 
 
 With lady Margery, your midwife, there, 
 To save this bastard's life : for 'tis a bastard, 
 So sure as this beard's grey, what will you ad- 
 venture 
 To save this brat's life ? 
 
 Jlnt. Any thing, my lord, 
 
 That my ability may undergo, 
 And nobleness impose : at least, thus much ; 
 I'll pawn the little blood which I have left, 
 To save the innocent : any thing possible. 
 
 Leon. It shall be possible : Swear by this sword, 1 
 Thou wilt perform my bidding. 
 
 Jlnt. I will, my lord. 
 
 Leon. Mark, and perform it; (seest thou?) for 
 
 the fail 
 
 Of any point in't shall not only be 
 Death to thyself, but to thy lewd-tongu'd wife ; 
 Whom, for this time, we pardon. We enjoin thee, 
 As thou art liegeman to us, that thou carry 
 This female bastard hence ; and that thou bear it 
 To some remote and desert place, quite out 
 Of our dominions ; and that there thou leave it, 
 Without more mcrcv, to its own protection, 
 And favour of the climate. As by strange fortune 
 It came to us, I do in justice charge thee, 
 On thy soul's peril, and thy body's torture, 
 That thou commend it strangely to some place, 2 
 Where chance may nurse, or end it : Take it up. 
 
 Jlnt. I swear to do this, though a present death 
 Had been more merciful. Come on, poor babe : 
 Some powerful spirit instruct the kites and ravens, 
 To be thy nurses ! Wolves, and bears, they say, 
 Casting their savagcness aside, have done 
 Like offices of pity. Sir, be prosperous 
 In more than this deed doth require ! and blessing, 
 Against this cruelty, fight on thy side. 
 Poor thing, condemn'd to loss ! [Ex. with the child. 
 
 Leon. No, I'll not rear 
 
 Another's issue. 
 
 1 Jllttn. Please your highness, posts, 
 
 From those you sent to the oracle, are come 
 An hour since: Cleomenes and Dion, 
 Being well arriv'd from Delphos, are both landed, 
 Hasting to the court. 
 
 1 Lord. So please you, sir, their speed 
 
 Hath been beyond account. 
 
 Leon. Twenty-three days 
 
 They have been absent : 'Tis prood speed ; forctels, 
 The great Apollo suddenly will have 
 The truth of this appear. Prepare you, lords ; 
 Summon a session, that we may arraign 
 Our most disloyal lady : for, as she hath 
 Been publicly accus'd, so shall she have 
 A just and open trial. While she lives, 
 My heart will be a burden to me. Leave me ; 
 And think upon my bidding. [Exeunt. 
 
 ACT III. 
 
 SCENE I. The name. A street in some Town. 
 Enter Cleomenes and Dion. 
 
 Cleo. The climate's delicate ; the air most sweet ; 
 Fertile the isle ; the temple much surpassing 
 The common praise it bears. 
 
 Dion, I shall report, 
 
 For most it caught me, the celestial habits 
 (Methinks, I so should term them,) and the reve- 
 rence 
 
 (1) It was anciently a practice to swear by the 
 cross at the hilt of a sword. 
 
 (2) t. e. Commit it to some place as a stranger. 
 
 Of the grave wearers. 0, the sacrifice ! 
 How ceremonious, solemn, and unearthly 
 It was i'the offering ! 
 
 Cleo. But, of all, the burst 
 
 And the ear-deafening voice o'the oracle, 
 Kin to Jove's thunder, so surpris'd my sense, 
 That I was nothing. 
 
 Dion. If the event o'the journey 
 
 Prove as successful to the queen, O, be't so ! 
 As if, hath been to us, rare, pleasant, speedy, 
 The time is worth the use on't. 3 
 
 Cleo. Great Apollo, 
 
 Turn all to the best ! These proclamations, 
 So forcing faults upon Hermione, 
 I little like. 
 
 Dion. The violent carriage of it 
 
 Will cle,ar, or end the business : When the oracle, 
 (Thus by Apollo's great divine seal'd up,) 
 Shall the contents discover, something rare, 
 
 Even then will rush to knowledge. Go, fresh 
 
 horses ; 
 And gracious be the issue ! 
 
 SCENE II. The same. Jl court of justice. 
 Leontes, Lords, and Officers, appear properly 
 seated. 
 
 Leon. This sessions (to our great grief, we pro 
 
 nounce,) 
 
 Even pushes 'gainst our heart : The party tried, 
 The daughter of a king ; our wife ; and one 
 Of us too much bclov'd. Let. us be clear'd 
 Of being tyrannous, since we so openly 
 Proceed in justice ; which shall have due course, 
 
 Even* to the guilt, or the purgation. 
 
 Produce the prisoner. 
 
 Qfll. It is his highness' pleasure, that the queen 
 Appear in person here in court. Silence ! 
 
 Hermione is brought in, guarded; Paulina and 
 Ladies, attending. 
 
 Leon. Rend the indictment. 
 
 Offi. Hermione, queen to the worthy Leontes, 
 king of Sicilia, thou art here accused and ar- 
 raigned of high treason, in committing adultery 
 with Polixcnes, king of Bohemia; and conspiring 
 v;ilh Camillo, to take away the life of our sovereig-n 
 lord the king, thy royal husband; the pretence* 
 whereof being by circumstances purity laid open, 
 thou, Hermione, contrary to the faith and alle- 
 giance of a true subject, didst counsel and aid 
 them, for their better safety, to fly uway by night. 
 
 Her. Since what I arn to say, must be but that 
 Which contradicts my accusation ; and 
 The testimony on my part, no other 
 But what comes from myself; it shall scarce boot 
 
 me 
 
 To say, Not guilty : mine integrity, 
 Being counted falsehood," shall, as I express ft, 
 Be so receiv'd. But thus, If powers divine 
 Behold our human actions (as they do,) 
 I doubt not then, but innocence shall make 
 False accusation blush, and tyranny 
 Tremble at patience. You, my lord, best know 
 (Who least will seem to do so,) my past life 
 Hath been as continent, as chaste, as true, 
 As I am now unhappy ; which is more 
 Than history can pattern, though devis'd, 
 And play'd, to take spectators ; For behold me, 
 A fellow of the royal bed, which owe* 
 
 (3) i. e. Our journey has recompensed us the 
 time we spent in it. 
 
 (4) Equal. (5) Scheme laid. (6) Treachery. 
 (7) Own, possess.
 
 Scent II. 
 
 WINTER'S TALE. 
 
 285 
 
 A moiety of the throne, a great king's daughter, 
 
 The mother to a hopeful prince, here standing 
 
 To prate and talk for life, and honour, 'fore 
 
 Who please to come and hear. For life, I prize it 
 
 As I weigh grief, which I would spare r for honour, 
 
 'Tis a derivative from me to mine, 
 
 And only that I stand for. I appeal 
 
 To your own conscience, sir, before Polixenes 
 
 Came to your court, how I was in your grace, 
 
 How merited to be so ; since he came, 
 
 With what encounter so uncurrent I 
 
 Have strain'd, to appear thus : if one jot beyond 
 
 The bound of honour ; or, in act, or will, 
 
 That way inclining ; hardcn'd be the hearts 
 
 Of all that hear me, and my near'st of kin 
 
 Cry, Fie upon my grave ! 
 
 Leon. I ne'er heard yet, 
 
 That any of these bolder vices wanted 
 Less impudence to gainsay what they did, 
 Than to perform it first. 
 
 Her. That's true enough ; 
 
 Though 'tis a saving, sir, not due to me. 
 
 Leon. You will not own it. 
 
 Her. More than mistress of, 
 
 Which comes to me in name of fault, I must not 
 At all acknowledge. For Polixenes, 
 (With whom I am accus'd,) I do confess, 
 I lov'd him, as in honour ho requir'd ; 
 With such a kind of love, as might become 
 A lady like me ; with a love, even such, 
 So, and no other, as yourself commanded: 
 Which not to have done, I think, had been in me 
 Both disobedience and ingratitude, 
 To you, and toward your friend ; whose love had 
 
 spoke, 
 
 Even since it could speak, from an infant, freely, 
 That it was yours. Now, for conspiracy, 
 I know not how it tastes ; though it be clish'd 
 For me to try how : all I know of it 
 Is, that Camillo was an honest man ; 
 And, why he left your court, the gods themselves, 
 Wotting no more than I, are ignorant. 
 
 Leon. You knew of his departure, as you know 
 What you have underta'cn to do in his absence. 
 
 Her. Sir, 
 
 You speak a language that I understand not : 
 My life stands in the level 1 of your dreams, 
 Which I'll lay down. 
 
 Leon. Your actions are my dreams ; 
 
 You had a bastard by Polixenes, 
 And I but dream'd it: As wu were past all shame, 
 (Those of your fact 2 are so',) so past all truth : 
 Which to deny, concerns more than avails : 
 For as 
 
 Thy brat hath been cast, out, like to itself, 
 No father owning it, (which is, indeed, 
 More criminal in thee, than it,) so thou 
 Shalt feel our justice ; in whose easiest passage, 
 Look for no less than death. 
 
 Her. Sir, spare your threats : 
 
 The bug, which you would frisht me with, I seek. 
 To me can life be no commodity : 
 The crown and comfort of my life, your favour, 
 I do give lost ; for I do feel it srone, 
 But know not how it went : My second joy, 
 And first-fruits of my body, from his presence, 
 I am barr'd, like one infectious : My third com- 
 fort, 
 Starr'd most unluckily, 3 is from my breast, 
 
 (}} Is within the reach. 
 
 (2) They who have done like you. 
 
 (3) Ill-starred; born under an inauspicious 
 planet 
 
 The innocent milk in its most innocent moutfy 
 Haled out to murder : Myself on every post 
 Proclaim'd a strumpet ; With immodest hatred 
 To child-bed privilege denied, which 'longs 
 To women of all fashion : Lastly, hurried 
 
 I Here to this place, i'the open air. before 
 
 I 1 have got strength of limit. 4 Now, my liege, 
 Tell me what blessings I have here alive, 
 That I should fear to die ? Therefore, proceed. 
 
 But yet hear this ; mistake me not ; No ! life, 
 
 I prize it not a straw : but for mine honour, 
 (Which I would free,) if I shall be condemn'd 
 Upon surmises ; all proofs sleeping else, 
 
 But what your jealousies awake ; I tell you, 
 'Tis rigour, and not law. Your honours all, 
 I do refer me to the oracle ; 
 Apollo be my judge. 
 
 1 Lord. This your request 
 
 Is altogether just: therefore, bring forth, 
 And in Apollo's name, his oracle. 
 
 [Exeunt certain Officers. 
 
 Her. The emperor of Russia was my father : 
 O, that he were alive, and here beholding 
 His daughter's trial ! that he did but see 
 The flatness of my misery ; yet with eyes 
 Of pity, not revenge ! 
 
 Re-enler Officers with Cleomenes and Dion. 
 
 Offi. You here shall swear upon this sword of 
 
 justice, 
 
 That you, Cleomenes and Dion, have 
 Been both at Delphos; and from thence have 
 
 brought 
 
 This scal'd-up oracle, by the hand deliver'd 
 Of great Apollo's priest ; and that, since then, 
 You' have not dar'd to break the holy seal, 
 Nor read the secrets in't. 
 
 Cleo. Dion. All this we swear. 
 
 Leon. Break up the seals, and read. 
 
 Off I. [Reads.] Hermione ii chaste, Polixenes 
 blameless, Camillo a true subject, Leontes a jea- 
 lous tyrant, his innocent babe truly begotten ; antl 
 the Icing shall live without an heir, if that, which is 
 lost, be not found. 
 
 Lords. Now blessed be the great Apollo ! 
 
 Her. 1'raiscd ! 
 
 Leon. Hast t'.iou read truth ? 
 
 Offi. Ay, my lord ; even so 
 
 As it is here set down. 
 
 Leon. There is no truth at all i'the oracle : 
 The sessions shall proceed ; this is mere falsehood. 
 
 Enter a Servant., hastily. 
 Sere. My lord the king, the king! 
 Leon. What is the business ? 
 
 Serv. O sir, I shall be hated to report it : 
 The prince your son, with mere conceit and fear 
 Of the queen's speed, 1 is gone. 
 J.eon. How ! gone ? 
 
 KLTV. Is dead. 
 
 Leon. Apollo's angry ; and the heavens them- 
 selves 
 Do strike at my injustice. [Hermione/ai/ifs.] How 
 
 now there ? 
 Paid. This news is mortal tc the queen .-Look 
 
 down, 
 And see what death is doing. 
 
 Leon. Take her hence : 
 
 Her heart is but o'ercharg'd ; she will recover. 
 
 (4) i. e. The degree of strength which it is cus- 
 tomary to acquire before women are suffered to go 
 abroad after child-bearing. 
 
 (5) Of the event of the^queen's trial.
 
 WINTER'S TALE. 
 
 J3ct Ilh 
 
 I have too much believ'd mine own suspicion : 
 'Beseech you, tenderly apply to her 
 Some remedies for life. Apollo, pardon 
 
 [Exeunt Paulina and Ladies, with Her. 
 My great profaneness 'gainst thine oracle ! 
 I'll reconcile me to Polixenes ; 
 New woo my queen ; recall ins good Camillo ; 
 Whom I proclaim a man of truth, of mercy : 
 For, being transported by my jealousies 
 To bloody thoughts and to revenge, I chose 
 Camillo lor the minister, to poison 
 My friend Polixenes ; which had been done, 
 But that the good mind of Camillo tardied 
 My swift command, though I with death, and with 
 Reward, did threaten and encourage him, 
 Not doing it, and being dune : he, most humane, 
 And till'd with honour, to my kingly guest 
 Unclasp'd my practice ; quit his fortunes here, 
 Which you knew great ; ami to the curtain hazard 
 Of all incertaintics himself commended, 1 
 No richer than his honour : How he glisters 
 Thorough my rust ! and ho;v his piety 
 Does my deeds make the blacker ! 
 
 Re-enter Paulina. 
 
 Paid. Wo the while ! 
 
 O, cut my lace ; lest my heart, cracking it, 
 Break too ! 
 
 1 Lord. What fit is this, good lady ? 
 
 Paul. What studied torments, tyrant, hast for me ? 
 What wheels? racks? fires? What flaying? boiling 1 , 
 In leads, or oils ? what old, or newer torture 
 Must I receive ; whose every word deserves 
 To taste of thy most worst ? Thy tyranny 
 Together working with thy jealousies, * 
 Fancies too weak for boys, too green and idle 
 For girls of nine ! 0, think, wnat they have iionc. 
 And then run mad, indeed ; stark mad ! for all 
 Thy by-gone fooleries were but spices of it. 
 That thou betray'dst Polixenes, 'twas nothing ; 
 That did but show thee, of a fool, inconstant, 
 And damnable ungrateful : nor w.is't much, 
 Thou would'st have npison'd good Camillo's honour. 
 To have him kill a kins; ; poor trespasses, 
 More monstrous standing by : whereof I reckon 
 The casting forth to crows thy baby daughter, 
 To be or none, or little ; though a devil 
 Would have shed water out of fire, 2 ere done't: 
 Nor is't directly laid to thee, the death 
 Of the youngr prince ; whose honourable thoughts 
 (Thoughts high for one so tender,) cleft the heart 
 That could conceive, a gross and foolish sire 
 Blemish'd his gracious dam : this is not, no, 
 Laid to thy answer : But the last, 0, lords, 
 When I have said, cry, wo ! the queen, the queen, 
 The sweetest, dearest, creature's dead; and ven- 
 geance for't 
 Not dropp'd down yet. 
 
 1 Lord. The higher powers forbid ! 
 
 Paul. I say, she's dead; I'll swear't: if word, 
 
 nor oath, 
 
 Prevail not, go and see : if you can bring 
 Tincture, or lustre, in her lip, her eye, 
 Heat outwardly, or breath within, I'll serve you 
 As I would do the gods. But, thou tyrant ! 
 Do not repent these things ; for they are heavier 
 Than all thy woes can stir : therefore, betake thee 
 To nothing but despair. A thousand knees 
 Ten thousand years together, naked, fasting, 
 Upon a barren mountain, and still winter 
 
 fl) Committed. 
 
 (2) t. . A devil would have shed tears of pity, 
 ere he would have perpetrated such an action. 
 
 In storm perpetual, could not move the gods 
 To look that way thou wert. 
 
 Leon. Go on, go on: 
 
 Thou canst not speak too much ; I have descrv'd 
 Ail tongues to talk their bitterest. 
 
 1 Lord. Say no more ; 
 
 Howe'er the business goes, you have made fault 
 I'the boldness of your speech. 
 
 Paul. I am sorry for't ; 
 
 All faults I make, when I shall come to know them, 
 I do repent: Alas, I have show'd too much 
 The rashness of a woman : he is touch'd 
 To the noble heart. What's gone, and what's past 
 
 help, 
 
 Should be past grief: Do not receive affliction 
 At. iny petition, I beseech you ; rather 
 Let IDC be punish'd, that have minded you 
 Of what you should forget. Now, good my liege, 
 Sir, ro3'al sir, forgive a fooiish woman: 
 Tho love I bore your queen, lo, fool again ! 
 i'i! speak of her no more, nor of your children ; 
 1'Jl not remember vou of my own lord, 
 Who i.s lost too : Take your patience to you, 
 And I'll say nothing. 
 
 Leon. Thou didst speak but well, 
 
 When most the truth ; which I receive much better 
 Than to be pitied of thee. Pr'ythee, bring me 
 To the dead bodies of my queen, and son : 
 One grave shall be for both; upon them shall 
 The causes of their death appear, unto 
 O:ir shame perpetual : Once a day I'll visit 
 Ths chapel where they lie ; and tears, shed there, 
 Shall be my recreation : So long as 
 Nature will bear up with this exercise, 
 So long I daily vow to use it. Come, 
 And lead me to these ^onxnvs. [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE IIL Bohemia. Jl dese.rt country near 
 Ike sea. Enter Antigonus, with the child; a?* 
 a Mariner. 
 
 .in/. Thcu art perfect 3 then, our ship hath 
 
 touch'd upon 
 The deserts of Bohemia ? 
 
 Mar. Ay, my lord : and fear 
 
 We have landed in ill time ; the skies look grimly, 
 And threaten present blusters. In my conscience, 
 The heavens with that we have in hand are angry, 
 And frown upon us. 
 
 Jlnt. Their sacred wills be done! Go, get 
 
 aboard ; 
 
 Look to thy bark ; I'll not be long, before 
 [ call upon thee. 
 
 Mar. Make your best haste ; and go not 
 
 Too far i'iha land : 'tis li!;e to be loud weather ; 
 Besides, this place is famous for the creatures 
 Of prey that keep upon't. 
 
 Go thou away : 
 I'll follow instantly. 
 
 Mar. I am glad at heart 
 
 To be so rid o'the business. [Exit. 
 
 .Int. Come, poor babe : 
 
 I have heard (but not belie v'd,) the spirits of the dead 
 
 Vlay walk again: if such thing be, thv mother 
 
 \ppca r'd to me last night ; for ne'er was dream 
 
 So like a waking. To me comes a creature, 
 
 "ometimes her head on one side, some another ; 
 
 [ never saw a vessel of like sorrow, 
 
 So fill'd, and so becoming : in pure white robes, 
 
 Like very sanctity, she did approach 
 
 My cabin where 1 lay : thrice bow'd before me : 
 
 \nd, gasping to begin some speech, her eyes 
 
 Jecame t-.vo spouts : the fury spent, anon" 
 
 (3) Well-ascured.
 
 Sn III. 
 
 WINTER'S TALE. 
 
 287 
 
 Did this break from her . Good Antigonus, 
 
 Since fate, asrainst thy better disposition, 
 
 Hath made thy person for the thrower-out 
 
 Of my poor babe, according to thine oatlt, 
 
 Places remote enough are in Bohemia, 
 
 There weep, and leave it crying ; and, for the babe 
 
 Is counted lost for ever, Perdita, 
 
 / pr'ythee, caWt ; for this ungentle business, 
 
 Put on thee by my lord, thou ne'er shall see 
 
 Thy wife Paulina more .-and so, with shrieks, 
 
 She melted into air. Affrighted much, 
 
 I did in time collect myself; and thought 
 
 This ivas so, and no slumber. Dreams are toys : 
 
 Vet, for this once, yea, superstitiously, 
 
 I will be squar'd by this. I do believe, 
 
 Hermione nath surfer' d death ; and that 
 
 Apollo would, this being indeed the issue 
 
 Of king Polixenes, it should here be laid, 
 
 Either for life, or death, upon the earth 
 
 Of its right father. Blossom, speed thee well ! 
 
 [Laying down the child. 
 
 There lie ; and there thy character : ' there these ; 
 
 [Laying dmr;i a bundle. 
 
 Which may, if fortune please, both breed thee, 
 
 pretty, 
 And still rest thine. The storm begins : Poor 
 
 wretch, 
 
 That, for thy mother's fault, art thus expos'd 
 To loss, and what may follow ! Weep I cannot, 
 But my heart bleeds : and most accurs'd am I, 
 To be by oath enjoin'd to this. Farewell ! 
 The day frowns more and more ; thou art like to 
 
 have 
 
 A lullaby too rough : I never saw 
 The heavens so dim by day. A savacre clnmour ? 
 
 Well may I get aboard ! This is the ehace ; 
 
 I am gone for ever. [Exit, pursued by a bear. 
 
 Enter an old Shepherd. 
 
 Shep. I would, there were no age between ten 
 and three-and-twenty ; or that youth would sleep 
 out the rest : for there is nothing in the between 
 but petting wenches with child, wronging the an- 
 cientry, stealing-, lighting. Hark you now! 
 
 Would any but these boiled brains of nineteen, and 
 tivo-and-twenty, hunt this weather? They have 
 scared awav two of my best sheep ; which, I fear, 
 the wolf will sooner fine!, than the master: if any 
 where I have them, 'tis by the sea-side, browzing 
 on ivy. Good luck, an't be thy will ! what have we 
 here? [Taking up the child.] Mercy on'?, a 
 barne ; 2 a very pretty barnc ! A boy, or a child, 3 I 
 wonder? A pretty one ; a very pretty one: Sure, 
 some scape : though I am not bookish, yet I can 
 read waiting-gentlewoman in the scape. This has 
 been some stair-work, some trunk-work, some be- 
 hind-door-work : thev were warmer that srot this, 
 than the poor thing is here. I'll take it up for pity : 
 yet I'll tarry till my son come ; he hollaed but even 
 now. Whoa, ho hoa ! 
 
 Enter Clown. 
 
 Clo. Hilloa, loa ! 
 
 Shep. What, art so near? If thou'lt see a tiling 
 to talk 'on when thou art dead and rotten, come 
 hither. What ailest thou, man ? 
 
 Clo. I have seen two such sights, by sea, rind by 
 land ; but I am not to say, it is a sea, for it is now 
 
 (1) The writing afterward discovered with Per- 
 dita. 
 
 (2) Child. (3) Female infant (4) Swallowed. 
 (5) The mantle in which a child was carried to 
 
 be baptized, 
 
 the sky ; betwixt the firmament and it, you cannot 
 thrust'a bodkin's point. 
 
 Shep. Why, boy,.how is it? 
 
 Clo. I would, you did but see how it chafes, hovr 
 it rages, how it takes up the shore ! but that's not 
 to the point : O, the most piteous cry of the poor 
 souls ! sometimes to see 'em, and not to see 'em : 
 now the ship boring the moon with her main-mast ; 
 and anon swallowed with vest and froth, as you'd 
 thrust a cork into a hogstiead. And then for the 
 land service, To see how the bear tore out his 
 shoulder-bone ; how he cried to me for help, and 
 said, his name was Antigonus, a nobleman: But 
 to make an end of the abip : to see how the sea 
 flap-dragon'd* it : but, first, how the poor souls 
 roared, and the sea mocked them ; and how the 
 poor gentleman roar'd, and the bear mocked him, 
 both roaring louder than the sea, or weather. 
 
 Shep. 'Name of mercy, when was this, boy? 
 
 Clo. Now, now ; I ha've not winked since" I saw 
 these sights : the men are not yet cold under water, 
 nor the bear half dined on the gentleman ; he's at 
 it now. 
 
 Skep. Would I had been by, to have helped the 
 old man ! 
 
 Clo. I would you had been by the ship-side, to 
 have helped her ; there your charity would have 
 lacked looting. [Jiside. 
 
 Shep. Heavy matters ! heavy matters ! but look 
 thee here, boy. Now bless thyself; thou met'st 
 with things dying, I with things new born. Here's 
 a sight for thee ; look thee, a bearing-cloth 4 for a 
 squire's child ! Look thee here : take up, take up. 
 boy ; open't. So, let's see ; It was told me, I 
 should be rich by the fairies : this is some change- 
 
 ?: open't: "What : s within, boy? 
 
 Clo. You're a made old man ; if the sins of your 
 youth arc forgiven you, you're well to live. Gold ! 
 all gold ! 
 
 She p. This is fairy gold, boy, and 'twill prove so : 
 up with it, keep it "close; home, home, the next* 
 way. We are lucky, boy ; and to be so still re- 
 quires nothing but secrecy. Let my sheep go : 
 Come, pood boy, the next way home. 
 
 Clo. Go you" the next way with your findings ; 
 I'll go see if the bear be gone from the gentleman, 
 and how much he hath eaten : they are never curst,* 
 but when they are hungry: if there be any of him 
 left, I'll bury it. 
 
 Shep. That's a good deed : If thou may'st dis- 
 cern by that whichls left of him, what he^is, fetch 
 me to the sight of him. 
 
 do. Marry, will I ; and you shall help to put 
 him i'the ground. 
 
 Shep. 'Tis a lucky day, boy ; and we'll do good 
 deeds on't. [Exeunt. 
 
 ACT IV. 
 
 Enter Time, as Chorus. 
 
 Time. I, that please some, try all ; both joy, 
 
 and terror, 
 
 Of good and bad ; that make, and unfold error, 
 Ifow take upon me, in the name of Time, 
 To use my wings. Impute it not a crime, 
 To me, or my swift passage, that I slide 
 O'er sixteen years, and leave the growth untried 
 
 (6) Some chUd left behind by the fairies, in the 
 oom of one which they had stolen. 
 
 (7) Nearest. (8) Mischievous.
 
 WINTER'S TALE. 
 
 Ad ir. 
 
 Of that wWe gap ; ' since it is in my power 
 
 To o'erthrow law, and in one self-born hour 
 
 To plant and o'erwhelm custom : Let me pass 
 
 The same I am, ere ancient'st order was, 
 
 Ot what is now receiv'd : I witness to 
 
 The times that brought them in ; so shall I do 
 
 To the freshest things now reigning ; and make stale 
 
 The glistening of this present, as my tale 
 
 Now seems to it. Your patience this allowing, 
 
 I turn my glass ; and give my scene such growing, 
 
 As you hacl slept between. Leontes leaving 
 
 The effects of his fond jealousies ; so grieving, 
 
 That he shuts up himself; imagine me, 2 
 
 Gentle spectators, that I now may be 
 
 In fair Bohemia ; and remember well, 
 
 I mention'd a son o' the kind's, which Florizel 
 
 I now name to you ; and with speed so pace 
 
 To speak of Perdita, now grown in grace 
 
 Equal with wond'ring : What of her ensues, 
 
 I list not prophesy ; but let Time's news 
 
 Be known, when 'tis brought forth: a shepherd's 
 
 daughter, 
 
 And what to her adheres, which follows after, 
 Is the argument 3 of Time : Of this allow, 4 
 If ever you have spent time worse ere now; 
 If never yet, that Time himself doth say, 
 He wishes earnestly, you never may. [Exit. 
 
 SCENE I. The same. Jl romn in the palace of 
 Polixenes. Enter Polixenes and Camillo. 
 
 Pol. I pray thee, good Camillo, be no more im- 
 portunate ; 'tis a sickness, denying thee anything ; 
 a death, to grant this. 
 
 Cam. It is fifteen years, since I saw my country; 
 though I have, for the most part, been aired abroad, 
 I desire to lay my bones there. Besides, the peni- 
 tent king, my master, hath sent for me: to whose 
 feeling sorrows I might be some allay, or I o'er- 
 ween 5 to think so ; which is another spar to my 
 departure. 
 
 Pol. As thou lovest me, Camillo, wipe not out 
 the rest of thy services, by Jenvin^ me now : the 
 need I have of thee, thine own goodness hath made : 
 better not to have had thee, than thus to -want 
 thee : thou, having made me businesses, which 
 none without thee can sufficiently manage, must 
 either stay to execute them thyself, or take away 
 with thee the very services thou hast done : which 
 if 1 have not enough considered, (as too much I 
 cannot,) to be more thankful to thcc, shall be my 
 study ; and my profit therein, the heaping friend- 
 ships. 6 Of that fatal country, Sicilia, pr'ythce speak 
 no more : whose very naming punishes me with the 
 remembrance of that penitent, as thou call'st him, 
 and reconciled king, my brother ; whose loss of his 
 most precious queen, and children, are even now 
 to be afresh lamented. Say to me, when saw'st 
 thou the prince Florizel my son ? 'Kings are no less 
 unhappy, their issue not being gratious, than they 
 are in losing them, when they have approved their 
 virtues. 
 
 Cam. Sir, it is three days since I saw the prince : 
 What his happier affairs may be, are to me un- 
 known : but I have, missingh'j noted, 7 he is of late 
 much retired from court ; and is less frequent to his 
 princely exercises, than formerly he hath appeared. 
 
 Pot. I have considered so much, Camillo ; and- 
 
 (1) t. e. Leave unexamined the progress of the 
 intermediate time which filled up the" gap in Per- 
 dita's story. 
 
 (2) Imagine for me. (3) Subject. (4) Approve. 
 (5) Think too highly. (6) Friendly offices. 
 m Observed at intervals, (8) Talk. 
 
 with some care so far, that I have eyes under my 
 service, which look upon his removedness : from 
 whom I have this intelligence ; That he is seldom 
 from the house of a most homely shepherd ; a man, 
 they say, that from very nothing, and beyond the 
 imagination of his neighbours, is grown into an 
 unspeakable estate. 
 
 Cam. I have heard, sir, of such a man, who hath 
 a daughter of most rare note : the report of her is 
 extended more, than can be thought to begin from 
 such a cottage. 
 
 Pol. That's likewise part of my intelligence. 
 But, I fear the angle that plucks our son thither. 
 Thou shall accompany us to the place : where we 
 will, not appearing what we are, have some ques- 
 tion 8 with the shepherd ; from whose simplicity, I 
 think it not uneasy to get the cause of my son's 
 resort thither. Pr'ythee, be my present partner in 
 this business, and lay aside the thoughts of Sicilia. 
 
 Cam. I willingly obey your command. 
 
 Pol. My best Camillo ! We must disguise our- 
 selves. . [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE II. The same. A road near the Shep- 
 herd's cottage. Enter Autolycus, singing. 
 
 When daffodils begin to peer, 
 
 With, iieigh ! tne doxy over the dale, 
 
 Why, then conies in the sweet o 1 the year ; 
 For the red blood reigns in the winter's pale.* 
 
 The ichite sheet bleachins: on the hedge, 
 With, hey ! the sweet tirds, O, how they sing ! 
 
 Doth set my pugging 10 tooth on edge 
 
 For a quart of ale is a dish for aftii 
 he lark, that tirra-lirm chaunts, 
 
 Th 
 
 With, hey ! with, hey ! the thrush and the jay : 
 Jlrt summer-songs for me and my aunts,** 
 
 While ice lie tumbling in the liay. 
 
 II have served prince Florizel, and, in my time, wore 
 three-pile ; 12 but now I am out of service : 
 But shall I go mourn for that, my dear? 
 
 The pale moon shines by night : 
 Jlnd iclien I wander here and there, 
 
 I then do most go rig/it. 
 If linkers may have leave to live, 
 Jlnd bear the sow-skin budget; 
 Then my account I well may give, 
 
 *1nd in the stocks avouchit. 
 
 My traffic is sheets ; when the kite builds, look to 
 lesser linen. My lather named me, Autolycus ; 
 who, being, as I am, littered under Mercury, was 
 likewise a snappcr-up of unconsidered trifles :" With 
 die, and drab, i purchased this caparison ; and my 
 revenue is the silly cheat : n Gallows, and knock, 
 are too powerful on the highway : beating, and 
 hanging, are terrors to me ; for the life to come, I 
 sleep out the thought of it. A prize ! a prize ' 
 
 Enter Clown. 
 
 Clo. Let me see : Every 'leven wether tods ; '* 
 every tod yields pound and odd shilling : fifteen 
 hundred shorn, What comes the wool to ? 
 
 .Hut. If the springe hold, the cock's mine. \JlsiAe. 
 
 Clo. I cannot do't without counters. 15 Let me 
 
 (9) t. P. The spring blood reigns over the parts 
 lately under the dominion of winter. 
 
 (10) Thievish. (11) Doxies. 
 
 (12) Rich velvet. (13) Picking pockets. 
 
 (14) Every eleven sheep will produce a tod or 
 twenty-eiffht pounds of wool. 
 > (15) Circular pieces of base metal, anciently 
 used by the illiterate, to adjust their reckonings,
 
 Scent III. 
 
 WINTER'S TALE. 
 
 see ; what I am to buy for our sheep-shearing feast? Jlut. Very true, sir ; he, sir, he ; that's the rogue, 
 
 Three pound of sugar ; five pound of currants ; 
 
 rice What will this sister of mine do with rice ? 
 
 But my father hath made her mistress of the feast, 
 and she lays it on. She hath made me four-and- 
 twenty nosegays for the shearers : three man song-- 
 men 1 all, and very good ones ; but they are most 
 of them means 2 and bases : but one Puritan amongst 
 them, and he sings psalms to hornpipes. I must 
 have saffron, to colour the warden 3 pies ; mace, 
 dates, none ; that's out of my note : nutmegs, 
 seven; a race or two of ginger ; but that I may 
 beg ;four pound of prunes, and as many of rai- 
 sins o' the sun. 
 
 Jlut. O, that ever I was born ! 
 
 [Grovelling on the ground. 
 
 Clo. I' the name of me, 
 
 Jlut. 0, help me, help me ! pluck but off these 
 rags ; and then, death, doath ! 
 
 Clo. Alack, poor soul ! thou hast need of more 
 rags to lay on thee, rather than hare these off. 
 
 Jlut. O, sir, the loathsomeness of them offends 
 me more than the stripes I have received ; which 
 are mighty ones and millions. 
 
 Clo. Alas, poor man ! a million of beating may 
 come to a great matter. 
 
 Jlut. I am robbed, sir, and beaten ; my money 
 and apparel ta'en from me, and these detestable 
 things put upon me. 
 
 Clo. What, by a horse-man, or a foot-man ? 
 
 Jlut. A. foot-man, sweet sir, a foot-man. 
 
 Clo. Indeed, he should be a foot-man, by the 
 garments he has left with thee ; if this be a horse- 
 man's coat, it hath seen very hot service. Lend me 
 thy hand, I'll help thee: come, lend me thy hand. 
 [Helping him up. 
 
 Jlut. O ! good sir, tenderly, oh ! 
 
 Clo. Alas, poor soul. 
 
 Jlut. O, good sir, softly, good sir: I fear, sir, 
 my shoulder-blade is out. 
 
 Clo. How now ! canst stand ? 
 
 J]ut. Softly, dear sir : [Picks his pocket.] good 
 sir, softly : you ha' done me a charitable office, 
 
 Clo. Dost lack any money ? I have a little 
 money for thee. 
 
 Jlut. Noj good sweet sir; no, I beseech you, sir: 
 I have a kinsman not past three-quarters of a mile 
 hence, unto whom I was going ; I shall there have 
 money, or any thing I want : Offer me no money, 
 I pray vou ; that kills my heart. 
 
 Clo. What manner of fellow was he that robbed 
 you? 
 
 Jlut. A fellow, sir, that I have known to go 
 about with trol-my-dames : 4 I knew him once a 
 servant of the prince j I cannot tell, good sir, for 
 which of his virtues it was, but he was certainly 
 whipped out of the court. 
 
 Clo. His vices, you would say ; there's no virtue 
 whipped out of the court : they cherish it, to make 
 it stay there ; and yet it will no more but abide. 5 
 
 that put me into this apparel. 
 
 Clo. Not a more cowardly rogue in all Bohemia ; 
 if you had but looked big, and spit at him, he'a 
 have run. 
 
 Jlut. I must confess to you, sir, I am no fighter : 
 I am false of heart that way 5 and that he knew, I 
 warrant him. 
 
 Clo. How do you now ? 
 
 Jlut. Sweet sir, much better than I was ; I can 
 stand, and walk : I will even take my leave of you, 
 and pace softly towards my kinsman's. 
 
 Clo. Shall I bring thee on the way? 
 
 Jlut. No, good-faced sir ; no, sweet sir. 
 
 Clo. Then fare thee well ; I must go buy spices 
 for our sheep-shearing. 
 
 Jlut. Prosper you, sweet sir! [Exit Clown.] 
 Your purse is not hot enough to purchase your 
 spice. I'll be with you at your sheep-shearing too : 
 If I make not this cheat bring out another, and the 
 shearers prove sheep, let me be unrolled, and my 
 name put in the book of virtue ! 
 
 Jog on, jog on, the foot-path way, 
 
 Iflnd merrily hent* the stile-a : 
 Jl merry heart goes all the day, 
 
 Your sad tires in a mile-a. [Exit. 
 
 SCENE HI. The same. Jl shepherd's cottage. 
 Ebiter Florizel and Perdita. 
 
 Flo. These your unusual weeds to each part of you 
 Do give a life : no shepherdess ; but Flora, 
 Peering in April's front. This your sheep-shearing 
 Is as a meeting of the petty gods, 
 And you the queen on't. 
 
 Per. Sir, my gracious lord, 
 
 To chide at your extremes, 9 it not becomes me ; 
 O, pardon, that I name them : your high self, 
 The gracious mark 10 o' the land, you have obscur'd 
 With a swain's wearing ; and me, poor lowly maid, 
 Most goddess-like prank'd up : " But that our feast 
 In every mess have folly, and the feeders 
 Digest it with a custom, I should blush, 
 To see you so attired ; sworn, I think, 
 
 To show myself a glass. 
 Ho. 
 
 I bless the time, 
 
 When my good falcon made her flight across 
 
 Thy father's ground. 
 Per. 
 
 Now Jove afford you cause ! 
 
 To me, the difference 12 forges dread ; your greatness 
 Hath not been us'd to fear. Even now I tremble 
 To think, your father, by some accident, 
 Should j>ass this way, as you did : 0, the fates ! 
 How would he look, to see his work, so noble, 
 Vilely bound up? What would he say? Or how 
 Should I, in these my borrow'd flaunts, behold 
 
 The sternness of his presence ? 
 Flo. 
 
 Apprehend 
 
 Nothing but jollity. The gods themselves, 
 Humbling their deities to love, have taken 
 
 Jlut . Vices I would say, sir. I know this man The shapes of beasts upon them : Jupiter 
 well: he hath been since an ape-bearer; then a I Became a bull, and bellow'd ; the green Neptune 
 
 process-server, a bailiff; then he compassed a mo- 
 tion 6 of the prodigal son, and married a tinker's 
 wife within a mile where my land and living lies ; 
 and, having flown over many knavish professions, 
 he settled only in rogue : some call him Autolycus. 
 Clo. Out upon him ! Prig,' for my life, prig : he 
 haunts wakes, fairs, and bear-baitings. 
 
 1) Singers of catches in three parts. 
 2J Tenors. (3) A species of pears. 
 
 4) The machine used in the game of pigeon- 
 bo es. 
 
 A ram, and bleated ; and the fire-rpb'd god, 
 Golden Apollo, a poor humble swain, 
 As I seem now : Their transformations 
 Were never for a piece of beauty rarer ; 
 Nor in a way so chaste : since my desires 
 Run not before mine honour ; nor my lusts 
 Burn hotter than my faith. 
 
 (5) Sojourn. 
 
 (8) Take hold of. 
 
 (10) Object of all men's notice. 
 
 (11 
 
 (6) Puppet-show. (7) Thief. 
 (9) Excesses. 
 
 ) Dressed with ostentation. (12) t. e. Of station.
 
 290 
 
 WINTER'S TALE. 
 
 Act IV. 
 
 Per. but, dear sir, 
 
 Your resolution cannot hold, when 'tis 
 Oppos'd. as it must be, by the power o'the king : 
 One of these two must be necessities, 
 Which then will speak ; that you must change this 
 
 purpose, 
 Or I my life. 
 
 Flo. Thou dearest Perdita, 
 
 With these forc'd 1 thoughts. I pr'ythee, darken nol 
 The mirth o' the feast : Or I'll be thine, my. fair, 
 Or not my father's : for I cannot be 
 Mine own, nor any thing to any, if 
 I be not thine : to this I am mo'st constant, 
 Though destiny say, No. Be merry, gentle ; 
 Strangle such thoughts as these, with any thing 
 That you behold the while. Your guests are 
 
 coming : 
 
 Lift up your countenance ; as it were the day 
 Of celebration of that nuptial, which 
 We two hare sworn shall come. 
 
 Per. lady fortune, 
 
 Stand you auspicious ! 
 
 Enter Shepherd, with Polixenes, and Camillo, dis- 
 guised; Clown, Mopsa, Dorcas, and others. 
 
 Flo. See, your guests approach : 
 
 Address yourself to entertain them sprightly, 
 And let's be red with mirth. 
 
 Shep. Fie, daughter! when my old wife liv'd, 
 
 upon 
 
 This day, she was both pantler, butler, cook ; 
 Both dame and servant: welcom'd all ; serv'd all : 
 Would sing her song, and dance her turn : now here, 
 At upper end o'the table, now, i'the middle ; 
 On his shoulder, and his : her face o'fire 
 With labour ; and the thing she took to quench it, 
 She would to each one sip : You are rctir'd, 
 As if you were a feasted one, and not 
 The hostess of the meeting : Pray you, bid 
 These unknown friends to us welcome : for it is 
 A way to make us better friends, more known. 
 Come, quench your blushes : and present yourself 
 That which you are, mistress o' the feast : Come on, 
 And bid us welcome to your sheep-shearing, 
 As your good flock shall prosper. 
 
 Per. " Welcome, sir! [To Pol. 
 
 It is my father's will, I should take on me 
 The hostess-ship o'the day : You're welcome, sir ! 
 
 [To Camillo. 
 Give me those flowers there, Dorcas. Reverend 
 
 sirs, 
 
 For you there's rosemary, and rue ; these keep 
 Seeming, and savour, 2 all the winter long: 
 Grace, and remembrance, be to you both, 
 And welcome to our shearing ! 
 
 Pol. Shepherdess, 
 
 (A fair one are you,) well you fit our ages 
 With flowers of winter. 
 
 Per. Sir, the year growing ancient, 
 
 Not yet on summer's death, nor on the birth 
 Of trembling winter, the fairest flowers o'the 
 
 season 
 
 Are our carnations, and streak'd gillyflowers ? 
 Which some call nature's bastards : of that kind 
 Our rustic garden's barren ; and I care not 
 To get slips of them. 
 
 Pot. Wherefore, gentle maiden, 
 
 Do you neglect them ? 
 
 Per. For 3 1 have heard it said, 
 
 There is an art, which, in their piedness, shares 
 With great creating nature. 
 
 (1) Far-fetched. 
 (3) Because that, 
 
 (2} Likeness and smell. 
 (4) A tool to set plants, 
 
 Pol. Say, there be ; 
 
 Yet nature is made better by no mean, 
 But nature makes that mean : so, o'er that art, 
 Which, you say, adds to nature, is an art 
 That nature makes. You see, sweet maid, we marry 
 A gentler scion to the wildest stock ; 
 And make conceive a bark of baser kind 
 By bud of nobler race ; This is an art 
 Which does mend nature, change it rather : but 
 The art itself is nature. 
 
 Per. So it is. 
 
 Pol. Then make your garden rich in gillyflowers, 
 And do not call them bastartls. 
 
 Per. I'll not put 
 
 The dibble* in earth to set one slip of them : 
 No more than, were I painted, I would wish 
 This youth should say, 'twere well ; and only 
 
 therefore 
 
 Desire to breed by me. Here's (lowers for you ! 
 Hot lavender, mints, savory, marjoram ; 
 The marigold, that goes to bed with the sun, 
 And %vith him rises weeping these are flowers 
 Of middle summer, and, I think, they are given 
 To men of middle age : You are very welcome. 
 
 Cam. I should leave grazing, were I of your flock, 
 And only live by gazing. 
 
 Per. . Out, alas! 
 
 You'd be so lean, that blasts of January 
 Would blow you through and through. Now, my 
 
 fairest friend, 
 
 I would I had some flowers o'the spring, that might 
 Become your time of day ; and yours, ~and yours ; 
 That wear upon your virgin branches yet 
 Your maidenheads growing : Proserpina, 
 For that flowers now, that, frighted, thou lett'stfall 
 From Dis's 5 wagon ! daffodils, 
 That come before the swallow dares, and take 
 The winds of March with beauty ; violets, dim, 
 But sweeter than the lids of Juno's eyes, 
 3r Cytherea's breath ; pale primroses, 
 That die unmarried, ere they can behold 
 Bright Phoebus in his strength, a malady 
 Most incident to maids ; bold oxlips, and 
 The? crown imperial ; lilies of all kinds, 
 The flower-de-luce being one ! O, these I lack, 
 To make you garlands of; and, my sweet friend, 
 To strew him o'er and o'er. 
 
 Flo. What ? like a corse ? 
 
 Per. No, like a bank, for love to lie and play on ; 
 ^ot like a corse : or if, not to be buried, 
 But quick, 6 and in mine arms. Come, take your 
 
 flowers : 
 
 Vlcthinks, I play as I have seen them do 
 in Whitsun' pastorals : sure, this robe of mine 
 Does change my disposition. 
 
 Flo. What you do, 
 
 Itill betters what is done. When you speak, sweet, 
 i'd have you do it ever : when you sing, 
 T'd have you buy and sell so ; so give alms ; 
 -?ray so ; and, for the ordering your affairs, 
 Co sing them too : When you do dance, I wisli you 
 V wave o'the sea, that you might ever do 
 Nothing but that ; move still, still so, and own 
 ^o other function : Each your doing, 
 So singular in each particular, 
 browns what you are doing in the present deeds, 
 That all your acts are queens. 
 
 Per. ' O Doricles, 
 
 four praises are too large : but that your youth, 
 ^nd the true blood, which fairly peeps through it, 
 )o plainly give you out an unstam'd shepherd : 
 With wisdom I might fear, my Doricles, 
 
 (5) Pluto's. 
 
 (6) Living.
 
 Scene ///. 
 
 WINTER'S TALE. 
 
 291 
 
 You woo'd me the false way. 
 
 Flo, I think you have 
 
 As little skill to fear, as I have purpose 
 
 To put you to't. But, come ; our dance, I pray : 
 
 Your hand, my Perdita : so turtles pair, 
 That never mean to part. 
 
 Per. I'll swear for 'em. 
 
 Pol. This is the prettiest low-born lass, that ever 
 Ran on the green-sward: 1 nothing she does, or 
 
 seems, 
 
 But smacks of something greater than herself; 
 Too noble for this place. 
 
 Cam. He tells her something-, 
 That makes her blood look out: Good sooth, she is 
 The queen of curds and cream. 
 
 Clo. Come on, strike up. 
 
 Dor. Mopsa must be your mistress : marry, 
 
 garlic, 
 To mend her kissing with. 
 
 Mop. Now, in good time ! 
 
 Clo. Not a word, a word ; we stand upon our 
 
 manners. 
 Come, strike up. 
 
 Here a dance of shepherds and shepherdesses. 
 
 Pol. Pray, good shepherd, what 
 Fair swain is this, which dances with your daughter? 
 
 IShep. They call him Doricles, and he boasts 
 
 himself 
 
 To have a worthy feeding : 2 but I have it 
 Upon his own report, and I believe it ; 
 He looks like sooth: 3 He says, he loves my 
 
 daughter ; 
 
 J think so too ; for never gaz'd the moon 
 Upon the water, as he'll stand, and read, 
 As 'twere, my daughter's eyes : and, to be plain, 
 I think there is not half a kiss to choose, 
 Who loves another best. 
 
 Pol. She dances featly. 4 
 
 Shep. So she does any thing ; though I report it, 
 That should be silent : if young Doricles 
 Do light upon her, she shall bring him that 
 Which he not dreams of. 
 
 Enter a Servant. 
 
 Serv. O master, if you did but hear the pedler 
 at the door, you would never dance a<rain after a 
 tabor and pipe: no, the bagpipe could not move 
 you : he sings several tunes, faster than you'll tell 
 monev ; he utters them as he had eaten ballads, 
 and all men's ears grew to his tunes. 
 
 Clo. He could never come better : he shall come 
 in : I love a ballad but even too well : if it be dole- 
 fuj matter, merrily set down, or a very pleasant 
 thing indeed, and sung lamentably. 
 
 Sere. He hath songs, for man or woman, of all 
 sizes: no milliner can so fit his customers with 
 gloves : he has the prettiest love-songs for maids ; 
 so without bawdry, which is strange ; with such de- 
 licate burdens of dildos and fadings ; jump her 
 and thump her ; and where some stretch-mouth'd 
 rascal would, as it were, mean mischief, and break 
 a foul gap into the matter, he makes the maid to 
 answer, Whoop, do me no harm, good man; puts 
 him off", slights him, with Whoop, do me no harm, 
 good man. 
 
 Pol. This is a brave fellow. 
 
 Green turf. 
 
 A valuable tract of pasturage. 
 
 Truth. (4) Neatly. 
 
 Plain goods. (6) Worsted .galloon. 
 
 A kind of tape. (8) The cuffs. 
 
 The work about the bosom. 
 
 Clo. Believe me, thou talkest of an admirable 
 conceited fellow. Has he any unbraided wares ?* 
 Serv. He hath ribands of all the colours i'the 
 rainbow ; points, more than all the lawyers in Bo- 
 hernia can learnedly handle, though they come to 
 him by the gross j inkles, 6 caddises, 7 cambrics, 
 lawns : whv, he sings them over, as they were 
 gods or goddesses ; you would think a smock were 
 a she-angel ; he so chants to the sleeve-hand, 8 and 
 the work about the square on't. 9 
 
 Clo. Pr'ythee, bring him in ; and let him ap- 
 proach singing. 
 
 Per. Forewarn him, that he use no scurrilous 
 words in his times. 
 
 Clo. You have of these pedlers, that have more 
 in 'em than you'd think, sister. 
 Per. Ay, good brother, or go about to think. 
 
 Enter Autolycus, singing. 
 Lawn, as white as driven snow ; 
 Cyprus, black as e'er was crow ; 
 Gloves, as sweet as damask roses; 
 Masks for faces, and for noses ; 
 Bugle bracelet, necklace-amber, 
 Perfume for a lady's chamber:*" 
 Golden qtioifs, and stomachers, 
 For my lads to give their dears ; 
 Pins and poking- sticks of steel, 
 What maids lack from head to heel : 
 Come, buy of me, come ; come buy, come buy; 
 Buy, lads, or else your lasses cry ; 
 Come, buy, &c. 
 
 Clo. If I were not in love with Mopsa, thou 
 should'st take no money of rne ; but being enthrall'd 
 as I am, it will also be the bondage of certain 
 ribands and gloves. 
 
 Mop. I was promis'd them against the feast ; 
 but they come not too late now. 
 
 Dor. Ha, hath promised you more than that, or 
 there be liars. 
 
 Mop. He hath paid you all he promised you: 
 may be he has paid_ you more ; which will shame 
 you to give him again. 
 
 Clo. Is there no manners left amona; maids ? will 
 they wear their plackets, where they should bear 
 their faces ? Is there not milking-timc. when you 
 are going to-bed, or kiln-hole," to whistle off these 
 secrets; but you must be tittle-tattling before all 
 our guests? 'Tis well they are whispering: Cla- 
 mour your tongues, 12 and not a word more. 
 
 Mop. I have done. Come, you promised me a 
 tawdry lace, 13 and a pair of sweet gloves. 
 
 Clo. Have I not told thee, how I was cozened 
 by the way, and lost all my money ? 
 
 Jlut. And, indeed, sir, there are cozeners abroad ; 
 therefore it behoves men to be wary. 
 
 Clo. Fear not thou, man, thou shall lose nothing 
 here. 
 
 Jlut. I hope so, sir ; for I have about me many 
 parcels of change. 
 
 Clo. What hast here ? ballads ? 
 Mop. Pray now buy some : I love a ballad in 
 print, a'-life ; for then we are sure they are true. 
 
 Jlut. Here's one to a very doleful tune, How a 
 usurer's wife was brought to-bed of twenty money- 
 bags at a burden ; and how she longed to eat ad- 
 ders' heads, and toads carbonadoed. 
 
 (10) Amber, of which necklaces were made fit 
 to perfume a lady's chamber. 
 
 (11) Fire-place for drying malt; still a noted 
 gossiping-place. 
 
 112} Ring a dumb peal. 
 13) A lace to wear about the head or waist,
 
 292 
 
 WINTER'S TALE. 
 
 Ad IV. 
 
 
 Mop. Is it true, think you ? 
 
 Ant. Very true : and but a month old. 
 
 Dor. Bless me from marrying a usurer ! 
 
 'themselves saltiers: 4 and they have a dance which 
 ,the wenches say is a gallimaufry* of gambols, be- 
 ,cause they are not in't; but they themselves are 
 
 Mop. Pray you now, buy it. ' too much humble foolery already : I know, sir, 
 
 Clo. Come on, lay it by : And let's first see morejwe weary you. 
 ballads ; we'll buy'the other things anon. i Pol. You weary those that refresh us : Pray let's 
 
 Jlut. Here's another ballad, of a fish, that ap- 1 see these four threes of herdsmen, 
 peared upon the coast, on Wednesday the fourscore Sere. One three of them, by their own report, 
 of April, forty thousand fathom above water, and] sir, hath danced before the king ; and not the worst 
 sung this ballad against the hard hearts of maids : |of the three, but jumps twelve foot and a half by 
 it was thought she was a woman, and was turned ;the squire. 6 
 
 into a cold fish, for she would not exchange flesh Skep. Leave your prating ; since these good men 
 with one that loved her : The ballad is very pitiful, are pleased, let them come in ; but quickly now. 
 and as true. Sen'. Why, they stay at door, sir. [Exit. 
 
 Dor. Is it true too, think you ? 
 
 Jlut. Five justices' hands' at it; and witnesses, 
 more than my pack will hold. 
 
 Clo. Lay it by too : Another. 
 
 Jlut. This is a merry ballad ; but a very pretty 
 ne. 
 
 Mop. Let's have some merry ones. 
 
 Jlut. Why this is a passing merry one ; and goes 
 ,0 the tune of, Two maids wooing a man : there's 
 scarce a maid westward, but she sings it ; 'tis in 
 request, I can tell you. 
 
 Re-enter Servant, with twelve rustics, habited like 
 Satyrs. They dance, and then exeunt. 
 
 Pol. O, father, you'll know more of that here- 
 after. 
 
 Is it not too far gone ? 'Tis time to part them. 
 He's simple, and tells much. [JJside.] How now, 
 
 fair shepherd ? 
 
 Your heart is full of something, that does take 
 I Your mind from feasting. Sooth, when I was young, 
 |And handed love, as you do, I was wont 
 
 ^ / ii . (i 11 I^xjn* ULiiivii^u iui,. u^ J" u uu, A 0.0 f uiii 
 
 Mop. We can both sins it; if thou'ltbearapart,! To i oa d m y she with knacks: 1 would have ran- 
 thou shalt hear ; 'tis in three parts. sack'd 
 
 Dor. We had the tune on't a month ago. 
 
 Jlut. I can bear my part ; you must know, 'tis To her acceptance ; you hive let him go, 
 
 3atlOIl : have at it With you. AnH not.hino- mnrtprT ivith him if voiir 1 
 
 my occupation 
 
 SONG. 
 
 A. Get you hence, for I must go; 
 Where, it fits -not you to knmo. 
 
 D. Whither ? M. 0, whither 1 D. Whither 1 
 M. It becomes thy oath full well, 
 Thou to me thy secrets tell : 
 
 D. Me too, let me go thither. 
 M. Or thou go'st to the grange, or mill : 
 D. If to either, thou dost ill. 
 
 A. Neither. D. What, neuucr s 
 D. Thou hast sworn my love to be ; 
 M. Thou hast sworn it more to me : 
 
 Then, whither go'st I say, whilher 1 
 
 The pedler's silken treasury, and have pour'd it 
 
 And nothing marted' with him : if your lass 
 Interpretation should abuse ; and call this 
 Your lack of love, or bounty : veil were straited !' 
 For a reply, at least, if you make a care 
 Of happy holding her. 
 
 Flo. Old sir, I know 
 
 She prizes not such trifles as these are : 
 The gifts, she looks from me, are pack'dand lock'd 
 Up in my heart ; which I have given already, 
 But not deliver'd. O, hear me breathe my life 
 Before this ancient sir, who, it should seem, 
 
 A." Neither.' D. What, neither ? A. Neither. jHath sometime lov'd : I take thy hand ; this hand, 
 
 As soft as dove's down, and as white as it ; 
 Or Ethiopian's tooth, or the fann'd snow, 
 That's bolted 9 by the northern blasts twice o'er. 
 
 Pol. What follows this ? 
 How prettily the young swain seems to wash 
 
 Clo. We'll have this son?: out anon by ourselves : 
 My father and the gentlemen are in sad 1 talk, and 
 we'll not trouble them : Come, bring away thy 
 pack after me. Wenches, I'll buy for you both : 
 Pedler, let's have the first choice. Follow me, girls. 
 Jlut. And you shall pay well for 'em. [Jlside. 
 Will you buy any tape, 
 Or lace for your cape, 
 My dainty duck, my dear-a ? 
 Jlny sitk, any thread, 
 Jlny toys for your head, 
 Of the newest, and fin's/, finest wear-a 1 
 Come to the pedfer ; 
 Money's a medler, 
 That doth utter 2 all men's ware-a. 
 
 [Exeunt Clown, Autolycus, Dorcas, and 
 Mopsa. 
 
 Enter a Servant. 
 
 Sere. Master, there is three carters, three shep- 
 herds, three neat-herds, three swine-herds, that 
 have made themselves all men of hair ; 3 they call 
 
 (1) Serious. (2) Vend. 
 
 (3) Dressed themselves in habits imitating hair. 
 
 (4) Satyrs. (5) Medley. (6) Foot-rule. 
 
 The hand, was fair before ! I have put you out: 
 But to your protestation ; let me hear 
 What you profess. 
 
 Flo. Do, and be witness to't. 
 
 Pol. And this my neighbour too ? 
 
 Flo. And he, and more 
 
 Than he, and men ; the earth, the heavens, and all : 
 That, were I crown'd the most imperial monarch, 
 Thereof most worthy ; were I the fairest youth 
 That ever made eye swerve ; had force, and know- 
 ledge, 
 
 More than was ever man's, I would not prize them, 
 Without her love : for her, employ them all ; 
 Commend them, and condemn them, to her service, 
 Or to their own perdition. 
 
 Pol. Fairly offer'd. 
 
 Cam. This shows a sound affection. 
 
 Shtp. But, my daughter, 
 
 Say you the like to him ? 
 Per. 
 
 I cannot speak 
 
 So well, nothing so well ; no, nor mean better : 
 
 (7) Bought, trafficked. (8) Put to difficulties. 
 (9) The sieve used to separate flour from bran is 
 called a bolting-cloth.
 
 Scene III. 
 
 WINTER'S TALE. 
 
 By the pattern of mine own thoughts I cut out 
 The purity of his. 
 
 Shep. Take hands, a bargain ; 
 
 And, friends unknown, you shall bear witness to't: 
 I give my daughter to him, and will make 
 Her portion equal his. 
 
 Flo. O, that must be 
 
 I'the virtue of your daughter: one being dead, 
 I shall have more than you can dream of yet ; 
 Enough then for your wonder : But, come on, 
 Contract us 'fore these witnesses. 
 
 Skep. Come, your hand ; 
 
 And, daughter, yours. 
 
 Pol. Soft, swain, a while, 'beseech you ; 
 
 Hare you a father ? 
 
 Flo. I have : But what of him ? 
 
 Pol. Knows he of this ? 
 
 Flo. 
 
 He neither does, nor shall. 
 
 Worthy enough a herdsman ; yea, him too, 
 
 That makes himsejf, but for our honour therein, 
 
 Unworthy thee, if ever, henceforth, thou 
 
 These rural latches 3 to his entrance open, 
 
 Or hoop his body more with thy embraces, 
 
 I will devise a death as cruel for thee, 
 
 As thou art tender to't. [Exit. 
 
 Per. Even here undone ! 
 
 I was not much afeard : for once, or twice, 
 I was about to speak ; and tell him plainly, 
 The self-same sun, that shines upon his court, 
 Hides not his visage from our cottage, but 
 Looks on alike. Will't please you, sir.be gone ? 
 
 [ToFlorizel. 
 
 I told you, what would come of this: 'Beseech you, 
 Of^our own state take care: this dream of mine, 
 Being now awake, I'll queen it no inch further, 
 But milk my ewes, and weep. 
 
 Cum. Why, how now, father? 
 
 Speak, ere thou diest. 
 
 Shep. I cannot speak, nor think, 
 
 Nor dare to know that which I know. 0, sir, 
 
 [ToFlorizel. 
 
 You have undone a man of fourscore three, 
 That thought to fill his grave in quiet; yea, 
 To die upon the bed my father died, 
 To lie close by his honest bones : but now 
 Some hangman must nut on my shroud, and lay me 
 Where no priest shovcls-in dust. cursed wretch ! 
 
 [ToPerdita. 
 That kncw'st this was the prince, and .would'st 
 
 adventure 
 
 To mingle faith with him. Undone ! undone ! 
 If I might die within tins hour, I have liv'd 
 
 To die when I desire. 
 
 [Exit. 
 
 Pol. Methinks, a father 
 Is, at the nuptial of his son, a guest 
 That best becomes the table. Pray you, once more ; 
 Is not your father grown incapable 
 Of reasonable affairs ? is he not stupid 
 With age, and altering rheums? Can he speak? 
 
 hear? 
 
 Know man from man? dispute his own estate?' 
 Lies he not bed-rid ? and again does nothing, 
 But what he did being childish ? 
 
 Flo. No, good sir ; 
 
 He has his health, and ampler strength, indeed, 
 Than most have of his age. 
 
 Pol. By my white beard, 
 
 You offer him, if this he so, a wrong 
 Something untilial : Reason, my son, 
 Should choose himself a wife ; but as good reason, 
 The father (all whose jov is nothing else 
 But fair posterity,) should hold some counsel 
 In such a business. 
 
 Flo. I yield all this ; 
 
 But, for some other reasons, my grave sir, 
 Which 'tis not fit you know, I not acquaint 
 Mv father of this business. 
 
 Pol. Let him know't. 
 
 Flo. He shall not. 
 
 Pol. Pr'ythee, let him.' 
 
 Flo. No, he must not. 
 
 Shep. Let him, my son ; he shall not need to grieve 
 At knowing of thy "choice. 
 
 Flo. Come, come, he must not : 
 
 Mark our contract. 
 
 Pol. Mark your divorce, youncr sir, 
 
 {Discovering himself. 
 
 Whom son I dare not call ; thou art too base 
 To be acknowledg'd : Thou a sceptre's heir, 
 That thus affect'st a sheep-hook? Thou old traitor, 
 I am sorry, that, by hanging thcr, I can but 
 Shorten thy life one week- And thou, fresh piece 
 Of excellent witchcraft ; who, offeree, must know 
 The royal fool thou cop'ft with ; 
 
 Shfp. O, my heart ! 
 
 Pol. I'll have thy beauty scratch'd with briers, 
 
 More homely than thy state. For thee, fond boy, If not, my senses, better pleas'd with madness, 
 If I may ever know, thou dost but sigh, ;Do bid it welcome. 
 
 That thou no more shall see this knack, (as never) Cam. This is desperate, sir. 
 
 I mean thou shalt,) we'll bar thee from succession ; | Flo. So call it : but it does fulfil my vow ; 
 Not hold thee of our blood, no, not our kin, jl needs must think it honesty. Cami'llo, 
 
 Far 1 than Deucalion off: Mark thou my words ; jNot for Bohemia, nor the pomp that may 
 Follow us to the court. Thou churl, for this time,! Be thereat glean'd ; for all the sun sees, or 
 Though full of our displeasure, yet we free thee The close earth wombs, or the profound seas hido 
 From the dread blow of it. And you, enchant-! In unknown fathoms, will I break my oath 
 
 ment To this my fair belov'd : Therefore, I pray you, 
 
 Flo. Why look you so upon me ? 
 
 I am but sorry, not afeard ; delay'd, 
 But no'liin<r alter'd : What I was, I am : 
 More straining on, for plucking back; not following 
 My leash 4 unwillingly. 
 
 Cam. "Gracious my lord, 
 
 You know your father's temper : at this time 
 He will allow no speech, which, I do guess, 
 You do not purpose to him ; ancl as hardly 
 Will he endure your si^ht as yet, I fear: 
 Then, till the fury of his highness settle, 
 
 Come not before him. 
 
 I not purpose it. 
 
 Flo. 
 I think, Camillo. 
 
 Cam. Even he, my lord. 
 
 Per. How often have I told you, 'twould be thus ? 
 How often said, my dignity would last 
 
 But till 'twere known? 
 Flo. 
 
 It cannot fail, but by 
 
 The violation of mv faith ; And then 
 
 Let Nature crush the sides o'the earth together, 
 
 And mar the seeds within ! Lilt up thy looks : 
 
 From my succession wipe me, father ! I 
 
 Am heir to my affection. 
 
 Cam. 
 
 Be advis'd. 
 
 Flo. lam; and bv my fancy :* if my reason 
 Will thereto be obedient, I have reason ; 
 
 (I) Talk over his affairs. (2) Further. 
 
 (3) Doors. (4) A leading string. (5) Lore.
 
 294 
 
 WINTER'S TALE. 
 
 Act IV. 
 
 As you have e'er been my father's honour'd friend, 
 When he shall miss me, (as, in faith, I mean not 
 To see him any more,) cast your good counsels 
 Upon his passion; Let myself and fortune 
 Tug for the time to come. This you may know, 
 Ami so deliver, I am put to sea 
 With her, whom here 1 cannot hold on sh~re ; 
 And, most opportune to our need, I have 
 A vessel rides fast bv, but not prepar'd 
 For this design. What course I mean to hold, 
 Shall nothing benefit your knowledge, nor 
 Concern me the reporting. 
 
 Cam. O, my lord, 
 
 I would your spirit were easier lor advice, 
 Or stronger for your need. 
 
 Ho. Hark. Perdita. [Takes her aside. 
 
 I'll hear you by and by. [To Camillo. 
 
 Cam. He's irremovable, 
 
 Rf:solv'd for flight : Now were I happy, if 
 His going I could frame to serve my turn ; 
 Save him from danger, do him love and honour ; 
 I'urchase the sight again, of dear Sicilia, 
 And that unhappy king, my master, whom 
 I so much thirst to see. 
 
 Flo. Now, good Camillo, 
 
 I am so" fraught with curious business, that 
 I leave out ceremony. [Going-. 
 
 Cam. Sir, T think, 
 
 You have heard of my poor services, i'the love 
 That I have borne your father ? 
 
 Flo. Very nobly 
 
 Have you deserv'd : it is my father's music, 
 To speak your deeds ; not little of his care 
 To have them recompens'd as thought on. 
 
 Cam. Well, my lord, 
 
 If you may please to think I love the king ; 
 And, through him, what is nearest, to him, which is 
 Your gracious self; embrace but my direction, 
 (If your more ponderous and settled project 
 May suffer alteration,) on mine honour 
 I'll point you where you shall have such receiving 
 As shall become your highness ; where you may 
 Enjoy your mistress, (from the whom, I sec, 
 There's no disjunction to be made, but by, 
 As heavens forefend ! your ruin :) marry her ; 
 And (with my best endeavours, in your absence,) 
 Your discontenting 1 father strive to qualify, 
 And bring him up to liking. 
 
 Flo. How, Camillo, 
 
 May this, almost a miracle, be done? 
 That I may call thee something more than man, 
 And, after that, trust to thee. 
 
 Cam. Have you thought on 
 
 A place whereto you'll go? 
 
 Flo. Not any yet : 
 
 But as the unthought-on accident 2 is guilty 
 To what we wildly do ; so we profess 
 Ourselves to be the slaves of chance, and flies 
 Of every wind that blows. 
 
 Cam. Then list to me : 
 
 This follows, if you will not change your purpose, 
 But undergo this flight ; Make for Sicilia ; 
 And there present yourself, and your fair princess, 
 (For so, I see, she must be,) 'fore Leontes ; 
 She shall be habited, as it becomes 
 The partner of your bed. Methinks, I see 
 Leontes, opening his free arms, and weeping 
 His welcomes forth : asks thee, the son, forgiveness, 
 As 'twere i'the father's person : kisses the hands 
 Of your fresh princess : o'er and o'er divides him 
 
 (1) For discontented. 
 
 (2) This unthought-on accident is the unexpect- 
 ed discovery made by Polixenes. 
 
 'Twixt his unkindness and his kindness ; the one 
 He chides to hell, and bids the other grow, 
 Faster than thought, or time. 
 
 Flo. Worthy Camillo, 
 
 What colour for my visitation shall I 
 Hold up before him ? 
 
 Cam. Sent by the king your father, 
 
 To greet him, and to give him comforts. Sir, 
 The manner of your bearing towards him, with 
 What you, as from your father, shall deliver, 
 Things known betwixt us three, I'll wrhejou down : 
 The which shall point you forth at every sitting,' 
 What you must say ; ' that he shall not perceive, 
 But that you have your father's bosom there, 
 And speau his very heart. 
 
 Flo. I am bour.d to you : 
 
 There is some sap in this. 
 
 Cam. A course more premising 
 
 Thau a wild dedication of yourselves 
 To unpath'd waters, undream'd shores ; most cer- 
 
 tain, 
 
 To miseries enough : no hope to help you ; 
 But, as you shake off one, to take another : 
 Nothing so certain as your anchors : who 
 Dp their best oflice, if they can but stay you 
 Where you'll be loath to be : Besides, you know, 
 Prosperit3 rl s the very bond of love ; 
 Whose fresh complexion and whose heart together 
 Affliction alters. 
 
 Per. One of these is true: 
 
 I think, affliction may subdue the cheek, 
 But. not take in* the mind. 
 
 Cam. Yea, say you so ? 
 
 There shall not, at your father's house, these seven 
 
 years, 
 Be born another such. 
 
 Flo. My c-ocd Camillo, 
 
 She is as forward of her breeding, as 
 I'the rear of birth. 
 
 Cam. I cannot say, 'tis pity 
 
 She lacks instructions ; for she seems a mistress 
 To most that teach. 
 
 Per. Your pardon, sir, for this ; 
 
 I'll blush you thanks. 
 
 Flo. My prettiest Perdita. - 
 But, O, the thorns we stand upon ! Camillo, 
 Preserver of my father, now of me ; 
 The medicine of our house ! how shall we do ? 
 We are not furnish'd like Bohemia's son ; 
 Nor shall appear in Sicily -- 
 
 Cam. My lord, 
 
 Fear none of this : I think, you know, my fortunes 
 Do all lie there : it shall be so my care 
 To have you royally appointed, as if 
 The scene you play, were mine. For instance, sir, 
 That you may know you shall not w;mt, one word. 
 [They talk aside. 
 
 Enter Autolycus. 
 
 _Jlut. Ha, ha ! what a fool honesty is and trust, 
 his sworn brother, a very simple gentleman ! I have 
 sold all my trumpery ; not a counterfeit stone, not 
 a riband, glass, pomander, 5 brooch, table-book, 
 j ballad, knife, tape, glove, shoe-tie, bracelet, horn- 
 irniu, to keep my pack from fasting: they throng 
 Iwho should buy first; as if my trinkets had been 
 hallowed, and brought a benediction to the buyer: 
 i by which means, I saw whose purse was best in 
 picture ; and, what I saw, to my good use, I re- 
 
 ) The council-days were called the sittings. 
 4) Conquer. 
 
 (5) A little ball mnde of perfumes, and worn to 
 prevent infection i:i time? of plague. 
 
 (3 
 (4
 
 Scent III. 
 
 WINTER'S TALE. 
 
 295 
 
 inetnbered. My clown (who wants but something 
 to be a reasonable man,) grew so in love with the 
 wenches' song, that he would not stir his pettitoes, 
 till he had boui tune and words ; which so drew the 
 rest of the herd to me, that all their other senses 
 stuck in ears .- you might have pinched a placket, 
 it was senseless"; 'twas 'nothing, to geld a cod- piece 
 of a purse ; I would have tiled keys off, that hung 
 in chains : no hearing, no feeling, but my sir's song, 
 and admiring: the nothing of it. Sp that, in this time 
 of lethargv, I picked and cut most of their festival 
 purses : and had not the old man come in with a 
 whoobub against" his daughter and the king's son, 
 and scared my choughs' from the chaff, I had not 
 left a purse alive in the whole army. 
 
 JCamillo, Florizel, and Perditi, comcfon&rd. 
 
 Cam. Nay, but my letters by this means being 
 
 there 
 So soon as you arrive, shall clear that doubt. 
 
 Flo. And those that you'll procure from king 
 Leontes, 
 
 Com. Sail satisfy your father. 
 
 Per. Happy be you ! 
 
 All that you speak, shows fair. 
 
 Cam. " Who have we here ? 
 
 [Seeing Autolycus. 
 We'll make an instrument of this ; omit 
 Nothing may give us aid. 
 Jlul. If they have overheard me now, -- why 
 
 hanging. 
 
 [Jside. 
 
 Cam. How now, good fellow? Why shakest 
 thou so ? Fear not, man ; here's no harm intended 
 to thee. 
 
 .inf. I am a poor fellow, sir. 
 
 Cam. Why, be so still ; here's nobody will steal 
 that from thee : Yet, for the outside of thy poverty, 
 we must make an exchange: therefore, disease thee 
 instantly (thou must think there's necessity in't,) 
 and change garments with this gentleman : Though 
 the pennyworth, on his side, be the worst, yet hold 
 thee, there's some boot. 2 
 
 .int. I am a poor fellow, sir: I know ye well 
 
 enough. 
 
 Cam. Nav, pr'ythee, despatch: the gentleman 
 is half flayed 3 already. 
 
 L-lut. Arc YOU in earnest, sir? I sniell the trick 
 ofit.- 
 
 Flo. Despatch, I pr'ylhee. 
 
 Cam. What I do gxt, shall be, to tell the kin 
 
 Of this escape, and whither they are bound ; 
 Wherein my hope is, I shall so prevail, 
 To force him after : in whose company 
 I shall review Sicilia ; for whose sight 
 I have a woman's longing. 
 
 JKo. Fortune speed us I- 
 
 Thus we set on, Camillo, to the sea-side. 
 
 Com. The swifter speed, the better. 
 
 [Exetmt Florizel, Perdita, and Camillo. 
 
 lut. I understand the business, I hear it: To 
 have an open ear, a quick eye, and a nimble hand, 
 is necessary for a cut-purse ; a good nose is requi- 
 site also, to smell out work for the other senses. 
 I see, this is the time that the unjust man doth 
 thrive. What an exchange had this been without 
 boot ? what a boot is here, with this exchange ? 
 Sure the gods do this year connive at us, and we 
 may do any thing extempore. The prince himselt 
 is about a piece of iniquity ; stealing away from 
 iiis father, with his clog at his heels : If I thought 
 it were not a piece of honesty to acquaint the king 
 withal, I would do't : I hold it the more knavery 
 to conceal it : and therein am I constant to my pro- 
 fession. 
 
 Enter Clown and Shepherd. 
 Aside, aside ; here is more matter for a hot brain : 
 Every lane's end, every shop, church, session, hang- 
 ing, yields a careful man work. 
 
 Cfo. Sec, see ; what a man you are now ! there 
 is no other way, but to tell the king she's a change- 
 ling, and none of your flesh and blood. 
 
 Khep. Nay, but hear me. 
 
 Clo. Nay, but hear me. 
 
 Shep. Go to then. 
 
 Clo. She beina; none of your flesh and blood, 
 your flesh and blood has not offended the king ; 
 ind, so, your flesh and blood is not to be punished 
 by him. Show those things you found about her ; 
 those secret things', all but what she has with her : 
 This being done, let the law go whistle ; I warrant 
 you. 
 
 .hit. Indeed, I have had earnest ; but I cannot 
 with conscience take it. 
 
 Cam. Unbuckle, unbuckle. 
 
 [Flo. and Aut. exchange garments. 
 Fortunate mistress, let my prophecy 
 Come home to you ! You must retire yourself 
 Into some covert : take your sweetheart's hat, 
 And pluck it o'er your brows : muffle your face ; 
 Dismantle you : and as you can, disliken 
 The trutli of your own seeming ; that you may 
 (For I do fear eyes over you,) to shipboard 
 Get undescricd. 
 
 Per. I see the play so lies, 
 
 That I must bear a part. 
 
 Cam. No remedy. 
 
 Have you done there " 
 
 Shep. I will tell the king all, every word, yea, 
 and his son's pranks top ; who, I may say, is no 
 -ick honest man neither to his father, nor to me, to go 
 [isw/e. | about to make me the king's brother-in-law. 
 
 Clo. Indeed, brother-in-law was the furthest off 
 
 Flo. 
 
 Should I now meet my father, 
 
 He would not call me son. 
 
 Com. Nav, you shall have 
 
 No hat : Come, lady, come. Farewell, my friend. 
 
 Jbtt. Adieu, sir. 
 
 Flo. O Perdita, what have we twain forgot ? 
 
 Fray you, a word. 
 
 [They converse apart. 
 
 (1) Birds. 
 '3) Stripced. 
 
 (2) Something over and ?hove. 
 (4) Bundle, parcel. 
 
 you could have been to him ; and then your blood 
 had been the dearer, by I know how much an ounce. 
 
 Jut. Very wisely; puppies! [Aside. 
 
 Shep. Well ; let us to the king ; there is that in 
 this fardel, 4 will make him scratch his beard. 
 
 .?(. I know not what impediment this complaint 
 may be to the flight of my master. 
 
 Clo. 'Pray heartily he be at palace. 
 
 .-Int. Though I am not naturally honest, I am so 
 sometimes by chance : Let me pocket up my ped- 
 Icr's excrement.* [Takes off his false beard.] How 
 now, rustics ? wnither are you bound ? 
 
 Shep. To the palace, an "it like your worship. 
 
 Jlut. Your affairs there? what? with whom? 
 the condition of that fardel, the place of your 
 dwelling, your names, your ages, of what having,' 
 breeding, and any thing that is fitting to be known, 
 discover. 
 
 Clo. We are but plain fellows, sir. 
 
 .'7;<f. A lie ; you are rough and hairy: Let me 
 have no lying ; it becomes none but tradesmen, and 
 they often give us soldiers the lie : but we pay them 
 for it with stamped coin, not stabbing steel ; there- 
 fore they do not give us the lie. 
 
 (5) His false beard. (6) Estate, property.
 
 WINTER'S TALE. 
 
 Jet 7. 
 
 Clo. Your worship had like to hate given us one, 
 if you had not taken yourselfcwith the manner. 1 
 
 Shep. Are you a courtier, an't like you, sir ? 
 
 Jiut. Whether it like me, or no, I am a courtier. 
 See'st thou not the air of the court, in these enfold- 
 ings ? hath not my gait in it the measure of the 
 court? 8 -receives not thy nose court-odour from 
 me ? reflect I not on thy baseness, court-contempt ? 
 Think'st thou, for that I insinuate, or toze 3 from 
 thee thy business, I am therefore no courtier ? I am 
 courtier, cap-a-pe ; and one that will either push 
 on, or pluck hack, thy business there : whereupon 
 I command thee to open thy affair. 
 
 Shep. My business, sir, is to the king. 
 
 Jiut. What advocate hast thou to him ? 
 
 Shep. I know not, an't like you. 
 
 Clo. Advocate's the court-word for a pheasant ; 
 say, you have none. 
 
 Shep. None, sir; I have no pheasant, cock nor hen. 
 
 Jiut. How bless'd are we, that are not simple 
 
 men! 
 
 Yet nature might have made me as these are, 
 Therefore I'll not disdain. 
 
 Clo. This cannot be but a great courtier. 
 
 Shep. His garments are rich, but he wears them 
 not handsomely. 
 
 Clo. He seems to be the more noble in being 
 fantastical ; a great man, I'll warrant ; I know by 
 the picking on,'s teeth. 
 
 Jiut. The fardel there? what's i'the fardel? 
 Wherefore that box? 
 
 Shep. Sir, there lies such secrets in this fardel, 
 and box, which none must know but the king; and 
 which he shall know within this hour, if I may 
 come to the speech of him. 
 
 Jiut. Age, thou hast lost thy labour. 
 
 Shep. Whv,sir? 
 
 dut. The king is not at the palace ; he is gone 
 aboard a new ship to purge melancholy, and air 
 himself: For, if thou be_'st capable of things serious, 
 thou must know, the king is full of grief. 
 
 Shep. So 'tis said, sir ; about his son, that should 
 have married a shepherd's daughter. 
 
 Jiut. If that shepherd be not in hand-fast, let 
 him fly ; the curses he shall have, the tortures he 
 shall leel, will break the back of man, the heart of kin 
 monster. 
 
 Clo. Think you so, sir ? 
 
 Jiut. Not he alone shall suffer what wit can make 
 heavy, and vengeance bitter; but those that are 
 germane* to him, though removed fifty times, shall 
 all come under the hangman : which though it be 
 ereat pity, yet it is necessary. An old sheep)- whis- 
 tling rogue, a ram-tender, to offer to have his daugh- 
 ter come into grace ! Some say, he shall be stoned ; 
 but that death is too soft for him, say I : Draw our 
 throne into a sheep-cote ! all deaths are too few, 
 the sharpest too easy. 
 
 Clo. Has the old man e'er a son, sir, do you 
 hear, an't like you, sir? 
 
 Jiut. He has a son, who shall be flayed alive ; 
 then, 'nointed over with honey, set on the head of 
 a wasp's nest ; then stand, till he be three-quarters 
 and a dram dead : then recovered again with aqua- 
 vitae, or some other hot infusion : then, raw as he 
 is, and in the hottest day prognostication proclaims,* 
 shall be set against a brick wall, the sun looking 
 with a southward eye upon him ; where he is to be- 
 hold him, with flies blown to death. But what talk 
 we of these traitorly rascals, whose miseries are to 
 be smiled at, their offences being so capital ? 
 
 (1) In the fact. (2) The stately tread of courtiers. 
 (3) Cajole or force. (4) Related. 
 
 me (for you seem to be honest plain men,) what 
 you nave" to the king : being something gently con- 
 sidered, 6 I'll bring you where he is aboard, tender 
 your persons to his presence, whisper him in your 
 behalf's ; and, if it be in man, besides the king to 
 effect your suits, here is man shall do it. 
 
 Clo. He seems to be of great authority ; close 
 with him, give him gold ; and though authority be 
 a stubborn bear, yet he is oft led by the nose with 
 gold : show the inside of your purse to the outside 
 of his hand, and no more ado : Remember stoned, 
 and flayed alive. 
 
 Shep. An't please you, sir. to undertake the bu- 
 siness for us, here is that gold I have : I'll make it 
 as much more ; and leave this young man in pawn, 
 till I bring it you. 
 
 Jiut. After I have done what I promised ? 
 
 Shep. Ay. sir. 
 
 Jiut. Well, give me the moiety : Are you a party 
 in this business? 
 
 Clo. In some sort, sir : but though my case be a 
 pitiful one, I hope I shall not be flayed out of it. 
 
 Jiut. O, that's the case of the shepherd's son : 
 Hang him, he'll be made an example. 
 
 ' Clo. Comfort, good comfort: we must to the 
 king, and show our strange sights ; he must know, 
 'tis none of your daughter, nor my sister ; we are 
 gone else. Sir, I will give you as much as this old 
 man does, when the business is performed ; and re- 
 main, as he says, your pawn, till it be brought you. 
 
 Jiut. I will trust you. Walk before toward the 
 sea-side ; go on the right hand ; I will but look 
 upon the hedge, and follow you. 
 
 Clo. We are blessed in this man, as I may say, 
 even blessed. 
 
 Shep. Let's before, as he bids us : he was pro- 
 vided to do us good. [Exeunt Shep. and Clown. 
 
 Jiut. If I had a mind to he honest. I see, fortune 
 would not suffer me ; she drops booties in my 
 mouth. I am courted now with a double occasion ; 
 gold, and a means to do the prince my master good ; 
 which, who knows how that may turn back to my 
 advancement ? I will bring these two moles, these 
 blind ones, aboard him : if he think it fit to shore 
 them again, and that the complaint they have to the 
 
 king concerns him nothing, let him call me rogue, 
 for being so far officious ; for I am proof against 
 that title, and what else shame belongs to't : To 
 him will I present them, there may be matter in it 
 
 [Exit. 
 
 ACT V. 
 
 SCENE /. Sicilia. .4 room in the palace of 
 Leontes. Enter Leontes, Cleomenes, Dion, Pau- 
 lina, and others. 
 
 Cleo. Sir, you have done enough, and have ner- 
 
 form'd 
 
 A saint-like sorrow : no fault could you make, 
 Which you have not redeem'd ; indeed, paid down 
 of More penitence, than done trespass : At the last, 
 ~ Do, as the heavens have done ; forget your evil 
 With them, forgive yourself. 
 
 Leon. Whilst I remember 
 
 Her, and her virtues, I cannot forpet 
 My blemishes in them ; and so still think of 
 The wrong I did myself: which was so much, 
 That heirless it hath made my kingdom ; and 
 Destroy'd the sweet'st companion, that e'er man 
 Tell Bred his hopes out of. 
 
 ( 5) The hottest day foretold in the almanac. 
 
 (6) ~ ' 
 
 Being handsomely bribed.
 
 Scene I. 
 Paul. 
 
 WINTER'S TALE. 
 
 297 
 
 True, too true, my lord : 
 
 rWM. A I UC, LUU HWB| 
 
 If, one by one, you wedded all ihe world, 
 Or, from' the all that are, took something good, 
 To make a perfect woman ; she, you kill'd, 
 Would be unparallel'd. 
 
 Leon. I think so. Kill'd ? 
 
 She I kill'd ? I did so : but thou strik'st me 
 Sorely, to say I did ; it is as bitter 
 Upon thy tongue, as in my thought : Now, good 
 
 now, 
 Say so but seldom. 
 
 Dieo. Not at all, good lady : 
 
 You might have spoken a thousand things that 
 
 would 
 
 Have done the time more benefit, and grac'd 
 Your kindness better. 
 
 Paid. You are one of those, 
 
 Would have him wed again. 
 
 Dion. If you would not so, 
 
 You pity not the state, nor the remembrance 
 Of his most sovereign dame ; consider little, 
 AVhat dangers, by his hiarhness' fail of issue, 
 May drop "upon his kingdom, and devour 
 Incertain lookers-on. What were more holy, 
 Than to rejoice, the former queen is well ? ' 
 What holier, than, for royalty's repair, 
 For present comfort and for future good, 
 To bless the bed of majesty again 
 With a sweet fellow to't? 
 
 Paul. 
 
 There is none worthy, 
 
 Respecting her that's gone. Besides, the gods 
 
 Will have fulfill'd their secret purposes : 
 
 For has not the divine Ano!!o said, 
 
 Is't not the tenor of his oracle, 
 
 That king Leontes shall not have an heir, 
 
 Till his lost child be found ? which, that it shall, 
 
 Is all as monstrous to our human reason, 
 
 As my Antigorms to break his grave, 
 
 And come again to me ; who, on my life, 
 
 Did perish with the infant. 'Tis your counsel, 
 
 My lord should to the heavens be contrary, 
 
 Oppose against their will. Care not for issue ; 
 
 [To Leonte?. 
 
 The crown will find an heir : Great Alexander 
 Left his to the worthiest ; so his successor 
 Was like to be the best. 
 
 Leon. Good Paulina, 
 Who has the memory of Hermione, 
 I know, in honour, O, that ever 1 
 Had squar'd me to thy counsel ! then, even now, 
 I might have look'd upon my queen's full eyes ; 
 Have taken treasure from her lips, 
 
 Paul. And left them 
 
 More rich, for what they yielded. 
 
 Leon. 
 
 Thou speak'st truth. 
 
 And all eyes else dead coals ! fear tnou no wift, 
 I'll have no wife, Patdina. 
 
 Paul. Will your swear 
 
 Never to marry, but by my free leave ? 
 
 Leon. Never, Paulina; so be bless'd my spirit ! 
 
 Paul. Then, good my lords, bear witness to hii 
 oath. 
 
 Cleo. You tempt hum over-much. 
 
 Paul. Unless another, 
 
 As like Hermione as is her picture, 
 Affront 4 his eye. 
 
 Cleo. Good madam, 
 
 Paul. I have done. 
 
 Yet, if my lord will marry, if you will, sir, 
 ,No remedy, but you will ; give me the office 
 1o choose you a queen : she shall not be so young 
 As was your former ; but she shall be such, 
 As, walk'd your first queen's ghost, it should 
 
 take joy 
 To see her in your arms. 
 
 Leon. My true Paulina, 
 
 We shall not marry, till thou bidd'st us. 
 
 Paul. That 
 
 Shall be, when your first queen's again in breath ; 
 Never till then. 
 
 Enter a Gentleman. 
 
 Gent. One that gives out himself prince Florizel, 
 Son of Polixenes, with his princess, '(she 
 The fairest I have yet beheld,) desires access 
 To your high presence. 
 
 Leon. What with him ? he comes not 
 
 Like to his father's greatness : his approach, 
 So out of circumstance, and sudden, tells us, 
 'Tis not a visitation fram'd, but forc'd 
 By need, and accident. What train ? 
 
 Gent. But few, 
 
 And those but mean. 
 
 /eon. His princess, say you, with him? 
 
 Gent. Ay ; the most peerless piece of earth, I 
 
 think, 
 That e'er the sun shone bright on. 
 
 Paul. O Hermione, 
 
 As every present time doth boast itself 
 Above a better, gone ; so must thy grave 
 Give way to what's seen now. Sir, you yourself 
 Have said, and writ so, (but your writing now 
 I< colder than that theme,*) She had not been, 
 JVor was not to be equalfd ; thus your verse 
 Flow'd with her beauty once ; 'tis shrewdly ebb'd, 
 To say, you have seen a better. 
 
 Gent. Pardon, madam : 
 
 The one I have almost forgot ; (your pardon,) 
 The other, when she has obtain'd your eye, 
 Will have vour tongue too. This is such a creature. 
 
 No more such wives ; therefore, no wife : one worse, ; Wot;!d she beein a = sect, might quench the zeal 
 And better us'd, would make her sainted spirit Of all professors else ; make proselytes 
 Aeain possess her corpse ; and, on this stage 
 
 (Where we offenders now appear,) soul-vex'd, 
 Besrin, Jlnd why to me ? 
 
 Paul. Had she such power, 
 
 She had just cause. 
 
 Leon. She had ; and would incense 2 me 
 
 To murder her I married. 
 
 Paid. I should so : 
 
 Were I the ghost that walk'd, I'd bid you mark 
 Her eye ; and tell me, for what dull part in't 
 You chose her : then I'd shriek, that even your ear 
 
 Of who she but bid follow. 
 
 Paul. How ? not women ? 
 
 Gent. Women will love her, that she is a woman 
 More worth than any man ; men, that she is 
 The rarest of all women. 
 
 Leon. Go, Cleomenes ; 
 
 Yourself, assisted with your honour'd friends, 
 Bring themto our embracement. Still 'tis stransre, 
 [Exeunt Cleomenes, Lords, and Gentlemen. 
 He thus should steal upon us. 
 
 Had our prince 
 
 Should rift 1 to hear me; and the words that follow'd (Jewel of children.) seen this hour, he had pair'd 
 Should be, Remember mine. ; Wf !1 with this lord ; there was not full a month 
 
 Leon. Stars, very stars, (Between their births. 
 
 m At rest, dead. (2) Instigate. (5) ?. e. Than the corse of Hermione, the sub 
 
 (3) Split. (4) Meet. |ject of your writing. 
 
 2 P
 
 298 
 
 WINTER'S TALE. 
 
 Act V. 
 
 Leon. Pr'ythee, no more : thou know'st 
 He dies to me again, when talk'd of: sure, 
 When I shall see this gentleman, thy speeches 
 Will bring me to consider that, which may 
 Unfurnish me of reason. They are come. 
 
 Re-enter Cleomenes, with Florizel, Perdita, and 
 attendants. 
 
 Your mother was most true to wedlock, prince ; 
 For she did print your royal father off, 
 Conceiving you : Were I but twenty-one, 
 Your father's image is so hit in you, 
 His very air, that I should call you brother, 
 As I did him ; and speak of something, wildly 
 By us perform'd before. Most dearly welcome ! 
 And your fair princess, proddess ! O, alas ! 
 I lost a couple, that 'twixt heaven and earth 
 Might thus have stood, begetting wonder, as 
 You, gracioiis couple, do ! and then I lost 
 (All mine own folly ? ) the society, 
 Amity too, of your brave father ; whom, 
 Though bearing misery, I desire my life 
 Once more to look upon. 
 
 Flo. By his command 
 
 Have I here touch'd Sicilia ; and from him 
 Give you all greetings, that a kin<r, at friend, 
 Can send his brother : and, but infirmity 
 (Which waits upon worn time,) hath something 
 
 seiz'd 
 
 His vvish'd ability, he had himself 
 The lands and waters 'twixt your throne and his 
 Measur'd, to look upon you ; whom he loves 
 (He bade me say so,) more than all the sceptres, 
 And those that bear them, living. 
 
 Leon. 0, my brother, 
 
 (Good gentleman !) the wrongs I have done thee, 
 
 stir 
 
 Afresh within me ; and these thy ofEces, 
 So rarely kind, are as interpreters 
 Of my behind-hand slackness ! Welcome hither, 
 As is the spring to the earth. And hath he too 
 Expos'd this paragon to the fearful asage 
 (At least, ungentle,) of the dreadful Neptune, 
 To greet a man, not worth her pains ; much less 
 The adventure of her person ? 
 
 Flo. Good my lord. 
 
 She came from Libya. 
 
 Leon. Where the warlike Smalus, 
 
 That noble honour'd lord, is fear'd, and lov'd ? 
 
 Flo. Most royal sir, from thence ; from him, 
 
 whose daughter 
 
 His tears proclaim'd his, parting with her: thence 
 ( A prosperous south- wind friendly, ) we have cross'd, 
 To execute the charge my father gave me, 
 For visiting your highness : My best train 
 I have from your Sicilian shores dismiss'd ; 
 Who for Bohemia bend, to signify 
 Not only my success in Libva, sir, 
 But my arrival, and my wife's, in safety 
 Here, where we are. 
 
 Leon. The blessed gods 
 
 Purge all infection from our air, whilst you 
 Do climate here ! You have a holy father, 
 A graceful 1 gentleman ; against whose person, 
 So sacred as it is, I have done sin : 
 For which the heavens, taking angry note, 
 Have left me issueless ; and your father's bless'd 
 (As he from heaven merits it,) with you, 
 Worthy his goodness. What might I have boon, 
 Might I a son and daughter now have loob'd on, 
 Such goodly things as you ? 
 
 vl) Full of grace and virtue. 
 
 (2) Seize, arrest. (3) Conversation. 
 
 Enter a Lord. 
 
 Lord. Most noble sir, 
 
 That, which I shall report, will bear no credit, 
 Were not the proof so nigh. Please you, great sir, 
 Bohemia greets you from himself, by me : 
 Desires you to attach 2 his son ; who has 
 (His dignity and duty both cast off,) 
 Fled from His father, from his hopes, and with 
 A shepherd's daughter. 
 
 Leon. Where's Bohemia ? speak. 
 
 Lord. Here in the city ; I now came from him. 
 I speak amazedly ; and it becomes 
 My marvel, and my message. To your court 
 Whiles he was hast'ning (in the chase, it seems, 
 Of this fair couple,) meets he on the way 
 The father of this seeming lady, and 
 Her brother, having both their country quitted 
 With this young prince. 
 
 Flo. . Camillo has betray'd me ; 
 
 Whose honour, and whose honesty, till now, 
 Endur'd all weathers. 
 
 Lord. Lay't so, to his charge , 
 
 He's with the king vour father. 
 
 Leon. Who? Camillo? 
 
 Lorrf. Camillo, sir ; I spake with him ; who now 
 Has these poor men in question. 3 Never saw I 
 Wretches so quake : they kneel, they kiss the earth ; 
 Forswear themselves as often as they speak : 
 Bohemia stops his cars, and threatens them 
 With divers deaths in death. 
 
 Per. O, my poor father ! 
 
 The heaven sets spies upon us, will not have 
 Our contract celebrated. 
 
 Leon. You are married ? 
 
 Flo. We are not, sir, nor are we like to be ; 
 The stars, I see, will kiss the valleys first : 
 The odds for high and low's alike. 4 ' 
 
 Leon. My lord, 
 
 Is this the daughter of a king ? 
 
 Flo. She is, 
 
 When once she is my wife. 
 
 Leon. That once," I see, by your good father's 
 
 speed, 
 
 Will come on very slowly. I am sorry, 
 Most sorry, you have broken from his liking, 
 Where you were tied in duly : and as sorry, 
 Your choice is not so rich in worth 4 as beauty, 
 That you might well enjoy her. 
 
 Flo. Dear, look up : 
 
 Though fortune, visible an enemy, 
 Should chase us, with my father ; power no jot 
 Hath she, to change our loves. 'Beseech you, sir, 
 Remember since you ow'd no more to time 
 Than I do now : with thought of your affections, 
 Step forth mine advocate ; at your request, 
 My father will grant precious things, as trifles. 
 
 Leon. Would he do so, I'd beg your precious 
 
 mistress, 
 Which he counts but a trifle. 
 
 Paul. Sir, my liege, 
 
 Your eye hath too much youth in't : not a month 
 'Fore your queen died, she was more worth such 
 
 gazes 
 Than what you look on now. 
 
 Leon. I thought of her, 
 
 Even in these looks I made. But your petition 
 
 [To Florizel. 
 
 Is yet unanswrrM : I will to your father ; 
 Your honour not o'erthrown by your desires, 
 I am a friend to them, and you : upon which errand 
 I now go toward him ; therefore, follow me, 
 
 (4) A quibble on the false dice so called. 
 
 (5) Descent or we.alth.
 
 Scene II. 
 
 WINTER'S TALE. 
 
 299 
 
 And mark what way I make: Come, good my, encounter, which lames report to follow it, and un- 
 lord. [Exeunt. I does description to do it. 
 
 SCENE II. The same. Before the palace. En- 
 
 ter Autolycus and a Gentleman. 
 
 *1ut. 'Beseech you, sir, were you present at this 
 relation ? 
 
 1 Gent. I was by at the opening of the fardel, 
 heard the old shepherd deliver the manner how he 
 found it : whereupon, alter a little amazedness, we 
 Mere all commanded out of the chamber ; only 
 this, methought I heard the shepherd say, he found 
 the child. 
 
 .3ut. I would most gladly know the issue of it. 
 
 1 Gent. I make a broken delivery of the business : 
 But the changes I perceived in !he king, and 
 Camillo, were very notes of admiration : they 
 8'jemed almost, with staring on one another, to tear 
 ihe cases of their eyes ; there was speech in their 
 dumbness, language in their very gesture ; they 
 
 looked, as they had heard of a world ransomed, or 
 
 | 2 Gent. What, pray you, became of Antigonus, 
 that carried hence the child ? 
 
 3 Gent. Like an old tale still ; which will hare 
 matter to rehearse, though credit be asleep, and 
 not an ear open : He was torn to pieces with a 
 bear : this avouches the shepherd's son ; who has 
 not only his innocence (which seems much,) to jus- 
 tify him, but a handkerchief, and rings, of his, that 
 Paulina knows. 
 
 1 Gent. What became of his bark, and his fol- 
 lowers ? 
 
 3 Gent. Wrecked, the same instant of their 
 master's death ; and in the view of the shepherd : 
 so that all the instruments, which aided to expose 
 the child, were even then lost, when it was found. 
 But, O, the noble combat, that, 'twixt joy and sor- 
 row, was fought in Paulina ! She had one eye de- 
 clined for the loss of her husband ; another elevated 
 
 that the oracle was fulfilled : She lifted the prin- 
 
 icess from the earth ; and so locks her in embracing, 
 
 one, it must needs be. 
 
 Enter another Gentleman. 
 
 Here comes a gentleman, that, happily, knows more: 
 The news, Rogero ? 
 
 2 Gent. Nothing bat bonfires : The oracle is ful- 
 filled ; the king's daughter is found : such a deal 
 of wonder is broken out within this hour, that bal- 
 lad-makers cannot be able to express it. 
 
 Enter a third Gentleman. 
 
 audience of kings and princes ; for by such was it 
 acted. 
 
 3 Gent. One of the prettiest touches of all, and 
 that which angled for mine eyes (caught the water, 
 though not the fish,) was, when at the relation of 
 the queen's death, with the manner how she came 
 to it, (bravely confessed, and lamented by the king, ) 
 how attentiveness wounded his daughter : till, from 
 one sign of dolour to another, she did, with an 
 alas ! f would fain say, bleed tears ; for, I am sure, 
 my heart wept blood. Who was most marble there,* 
 changed colour; some swooned, all sorrowed: if 
 
 Here comes the lady Paulina's steward; he car* jail the world could have seen it, the wo had been 
 
 deliver you more. How goes it now, sir? this! universal. 
 
 1 Gent. Are they returned to the court? 
 3 Gent. No: the princess hearing of her mother's 
 statue, which is in the keeping of Paulina, apiece 
 many years in doing, and now newly performed by 
 that rare Italian master, Julio Romano ; who, had 
 he himself eternity, and could put breath into his 
 work, would beguile Nature of her custom, so per- 
 fectly lie is her ape : he so near to Hermione hath 
 done Hermione, that, they say, one would speak to 
 
 news, which is called true, is so like an oid tale, 
 that the veritv of it is in strong suspicion : Has 
 the king found his heir ? 
 
 3 Gent. Most true ; if ever truth were pregnant 
 by circumstance : that, which you hear, you'll 
 swear you see, there is such unity in the proofs. 
 The mantle of queen Hermione: her jewel about 
 the neck of it : the letters of Antigonus, found 
 with it, which they know to be his character : the 
 
 majesty of the creature, in resemblance of the h-:r, :ir.d stand in hope of ansner: thither, with all 
 
 mother; the affection 2 of nobleness, which nature (greediness of affection, are they gone ; and there 
 _i _ _ i i i i? i . _*t ii * 3* 
 
 shows above her breeding, and many other evi- 
 
 they intend to sup. 
 
 2 Gent. I thought, she had some great matter 
 there in hand ; for she hath privately, twice or 
 thrice a day, ever since the death of Hermione. 
 visited that removed" house. Shall we thither, ana 
 
 , that has the bene- 
 
 dences, proclaim her, with all certainty, to be the 
 king's daughter. Did you see the meeting of the 
 hvo kings 7 
 
 2 Gent. No. 
 
 3 Gent. Then have you lost a sirrht, which was with our company piece the rejoicing? 
 to be seen, cannot be spoken of. There might you 1 Gent. Who would be thence, that h: 
 
 have beheld one joy crown another; BO, and in j fit of access? every wink of an eye, some new 
 such manner, that, it seemed, sorrow wept to takejgrace %vill be born: our absence makes us unthrifty 
 leave of them; for their joy waded in tears. There: to our knowledge. Let's along, 
 was casting up of eyes, holding up of hands ; with [Exeunt Gentlemen, 
 
 countenance of such distraction, that thev were to Jlut. Now, had I not the dash of my former life 
 be known by garment, not by favour. 3 Our king, !in me, would preferment drop on my head. I 
 being ready to leap put of himself for joy of his|brought the old man and his son aboard the prince ; 
 found daughter ; as if that joy were now become .told him, I heard him talk of a fardel, and I know 
 a loss, cries, O, thy mother, thy mother ! then asksjnot what: but he at that time, over-fond of the 
 Bohemia forgiveness; then embraces his son-in- ! shepherd's daughter, (so he then took her to be,) 
 law; then again worries he his daughter, with (who began to be much sea-sick, and himself little 
 clipping* her; now he thanks the old shepherd, i belter, extremity of weather continuing, this mys- 
 which stands by, like a weather-beaten conduit ofitery remained undiscovered. But 'tis all one to 
 many kings' reigns. I never heard of such another :ne': for had I been the finder-out of this secret, it 
 
 (1) The thing imported. 
 
 (2) Disposition or quality. 
 
 (3) Countenance, features. (4) Embracing. 
 I (5) Most petrified with wonder. (6) Remote,
 
 WINTER'S TALE. 
 
 AttY. 
 
 would not hare relished among my other discredits. 
 
 Enter Shepherd and Clown. 
 Here come those I have done good to against my 
 will, and already appearing in the blossoms of their 
 fortune. 
 
 Shep. Come, boy ; I am past more children ; but 
 thy sons and daughters will be all gentlemen born. 
 
 Clo. You are well met, sir : You denied to fight 
 with me this other dav, because I was no gentle- 
 man born : See you these clothes ? say, you sec 
 them not, and think me still no gentleman born : 
 you were best say, these robes are not gentlemen 
 born. Give me the lie ; do ; and try whether I am 
 n6t now a gentleman born. 
 
 Jlut. I know, you are now, sir, a gentleman born. 
 
 Clo. Ay, and have been so any time these four 
 hours. 
 
 Shep. And so have I, boy. 
 
 Clo. So you have : but I was a gentleman born 
 before my father : for the king's son took me by the 
 hand, and called me, brother ; and then the two 
 kings called my father, brother ; and then the 
 prince, my brother, and the princess, my sister, 
 called my father, father; and so we wept: and 
 there was the first gentleman-like tears that ever 
 we shed. 
 
 Shtp. We may live, son, to shed many more. 
 
 Clo. Ay ; or else 'twere hard luck, being in so 
 preposterous estate as we are. 
 
 3uf. I humbly beseech you, sir, to pardon me 
 all the faults I have committed to your worship, 
 and to give me your good report to the prince my 
 master. 
 
 Shep. 'Pr'ythee, son, do ; for we must be 
 now we are gentlemen. 
 
 Clo. Thou wilt amend thy life ? 
 
 .Int. Ay, an it like your good worship. 
 . Clo. Give me thy hand : I will swear to the 
 prince, thou art as honest a true fellow as any is in 
 Bohemia. 
 
 Shep. You may say it, hut not swear it. 
 
 Clo. Not swear it, now I am a gentleman ? Let 
 
 It is a surplus of your grace, which neyr 
 
 My life may last to answer. 
 
 O Paulina, 
 
 We honour you with trouble : But we came 
 To see the statue of onr queen : your gallery 
 Have we pass'd through, not without much content 
 In many, singularities ; but we saw not 
 That which my daughter came to look upon, 
 
 The statue of her mother. 
 Paid. 
 
 As she liv'd peerless, 
 
 So her dead likeness, I do well believe, 
 Excels whatever yet you look'd upon, 
 Or hand of man hath done ; therefore I keep it 
 Lonely, apart : But here it is : prepare 
 To see the life as lively mock'd, as ever 
 Still sleep mock'd death : behold ; and say, 'tis well. 
 [Paulina undraws a curtain, and dis- 
 covers a statue. 
 
 I like your silence, it the more shows off 
 Your wonder: But yet speak; first, you, my liege. 
 Conies it not something near? 
 
 Leon. Her natural posture ! 
 
 Chide me, dear stone ; that I may say, indeed, 
 Thou art Hermione : or, rather, thou art she, 
 In thy not chiding ; for she was as tender, 
 As infancy, and grace. But yet, Paulina, 
 Hermione was not so much wrinkled ; nothing 
 So aged, as this seems. 
 
 Pol. O, not by much. 
 
 Paid. So much the more our carver's excellence : 
 Which lets c;o by some sixteen years, and makes her 
 As she liv'd now. 
 
 As now she might have done, 
 So much to my good comfort, as it is 
 Now piercing to my soul. O, thus she stood, 
 Even with such life of majesty, (warm life, 
 As now it coldly stands,) when first I woo'd her! 
 I am asham'd : Docs not the stone rebuke me, 
 For being more stone than it ? 0, royal piece, 
 There's magic in thy majesty ; which has 
 My evils conjur'd to remembrance ; and 
 From thy admiring daughter took the spirits, 
 Standing like stone with thee ! 
 
 Per. And give me leave ; 
 
 And do not say, 'tis superstition, that 
 
 boors and franklins' say it, I'll swear it. 
 
 Shep. How if it be false, son ? 
 
 Clo. If it be ne'er so false, a true gentleman mavj I kneel, and then implore her blessing. Lady, 
 swear it in the behalf of his friend: And I'll! Dear queen, that ended when I but began, 
 swear to the prince, thou art a tall 2 fellow of thy | Give me that hand of yours, to kiss, 
 hands, and that thou wilt not be drunk; but 1]_ Paul. 0, patience 
 
 ~ " ~ " """ * * * tlniii-'c 
 
 know, thou art no tall-fellow of thy hands, and that 
 thou wilt be drunk; but I'll swear it: and I would, 
 thou would'st be a tall fellow of thy hands. 
 
 *1ut, I will prove so, sir, to my power. 
 
 Clo. Ay, by any means prove a tall fellow : if I 
 
 do not wonifer, now thou darest venture to be Did ever so long live ; 
 drunk, not being a tall fellow, trust me not. Hark ! But kill'd itself much 
 
 the kings and the princes, our kindred, are going 
 to see the queen's picture. Come, follow us: we'll 
 be thy good masters. [Exeunt. 
 
 SCEJVE III. The same. Jl room in Paulina's 
 house. Enter Leontes, Polixenes, Florizel, Per- 
 
 dita, Camillo, Paulina, Lords, and Attendants. 
 
 Leon. O grave and good Paulina, the great com- 
 fort 
 That I have had of thee! 
 
 Paul. What, sovereign sir, 
 
 I did not well, I meant well : All my services, 
 
 You have paid home : but that you have vouchsaf 'd May think anon, it moves. 
 With your crown'd brother, and these your con- Leon. 
 
 tracted 
 Heirs of your kingdoms, my poor house to visit, 
 
 The statue is but newly fixed, the colour's 
 Not dry. 
 
 Cam. My lord, your sorrow was too sore laid on : 
 Which sixteen winters cannot blow away, 
 So many summer?, dry : scarce any joy 
 
 Pol. 
 
 no sorrow, 
 sooner. 
 
 Dear my brother, 
 
 Let him, that was the cause of this, have power 
 To take ott'so much grief from you, as he 
 
 Will piece up in himself. 
 Paul. 
 
 Indeed, my lord, 
 
 If I had thought, the sight of my poor image 
 
 Would thus have wrought 3 you, (for the stone is 
 
 mine,) 
 
 I'd not have show'd it. 
 
 Leon. Do not draw the curtain. 
 
 Paid. No longer shall you gaze on't ; lest youi 
 fancy 
 
 (1) Yeomen. 
 
 (2) Stout 
 
 i^,.. Let be, let be. 
 
 Would I were dead, but that methinks already 
 What was he, that did make it ? See, my lord, 
 
 (3) Worked, agitated.
 
 Scene ///. 
 
 WINTER'S TALE. 
 
 301 
 
 Would you not deem, it breath'd ? and that those 
 
 veins 
 Did verily bear blood ? 
 
 Pol. ' Masterly done : 
 
 The very life seems warm upon her lip. 
 
 Leon. The fixure of her eye has motion in't, 1 
 As 2 we are mock'd with art. 
 
 Paid. I'll draw the .curtain ; 
 
 My lord's almost so far transported, that 
 He'll think anon, it lives. 
 
 Leon. O sweet Paulina, 
 
 Make me to think so twenty vears together ; 
 No settled senses of the world can match 
 The pleasure of that madness. Left alone. 
 
 Paiil. I am sorry, sir, I have thus far stirr'd 
 
 you : but 
 I could a'fflict you further. 
 
 Leon. Do, Paulina ; 
 
 For this affliction has a taste as sweet 
 As any cordial comfort. Still, methinks, 
 There is an air comes fram her : What line chisel 
 Could ever yet cut breath ? Let no man mock me, 
 For I will kiss her. 
 
 Paul. Good my lord, forbear : 
 
 The ruddiness upon her lip is wet ; 
 You'll mar it, if you kiss it ; stain your own 
 With oily painting : Shall I draw the curtain ? 
 
 Leon. No, not these twenty years. 
 
 Per. So long could I 
 
 Stand by, a looker on. 
 
 Paul. Either forbear, 
 
 Quit presently the chapel ; or resolve you 
 For more amazement : If you can behold it, 
 I'll make the statue move indeed ; descend, 
 And take you by the hand : but then you'll think 
 (Which I protest against,) I am assisted 
 By wicked powers." 
 
 Leon. What you can make her do, 
 
 I am content to look on : what to speak, 
 I am content to hear ; for 'tis as easy 
 To make her speak, as movs. 
 
 Paul. It is requir'd, 
 
 You do awake your faith: Then, all stand still ; 
 Or those, that think it is unlawful business 
 I am about, let them depart. 
 
 Leon. Proceed ; 
 
 No foot shall stir. 
 
 Paul. Music ; awake her : strike 
 
 [JSuitc. 
 
 'Tis time ; descend ; be stone no more ; approach ; 
 Strike all that look upon with marvel. Come ; 
 I'll fill your crave up: stir; nay, come away : 
 Bequeath to death your numbness, for from him 
 Dear life redeems you. You perceive, she stirs : 
 
 [Hermione comes down from the pedestal. 
 Start not : her actions shall be holy, as, 
 You hear, my spell is lawful : do not shun her, 
 Until you see her die again ; for then 
 You kill her double : Nay, present your hand : 
 When she was young, you woo'd her; now, in ace, 
 Is she become the suitor. 
 
 Leon. O, she's warm ! [Embracing her. 
 
 If this be maaic, let it be an art 
 Lawful as eating. 
 
 ( 1 ) t. e. Though her eye be fixed, it seems to have 
 motion in it. 
 (Z) Aa if. 
 
 Pol. She embraces him. 
 
 Cam. She hangs about his neck ; 
 If she pertain to life, let her speak too. 
 
 Pol. Ay. and make't manifest where she has 
 
 liv'd, 
 Or, how stol'n from the dead. 
 
 Paul. That she is living, 
 
 Were it but told you, should be hooted at 
 Like an old tale ; but it appears, she lives, 
 Though yet she speak not. Mark a little while. 
 Please you to interpose, fair madam ; kneel, 
 And prav vour mother's blessing. Turn, good 
 
 lady ; 
 Our Perdita is found. 
 
 [Presenting Per. who kneels to Her. 
 
 Her. i ou gods, look down, 
 
 And from your sacred vials pour your graces 
 Upon mv daughter's head ! Tell me, mine own, 
 Where hast thou been preserv'd? where liv'd? 
 
 how found 
 
 Thy father's court ? for thou shalt hear, that I, 
 Knowing by Paulina, that the oracle 
 Gave hope thou wast in being, have preserv'd 
 Myself, to see the issue. 
 
 'Pmd. There's time enough for that ; 
 
 Lest they desire, upon this push to trouble 
 Your joys with like relation. Go together, 
 You precious winners 3 all ; your exultation 
 Partake 4 to every one. I, an old turtle, 
 Will v.-ing me to some wither'd bough ; and there 
 My mate, that's never to be found again, 
 Lament till I am lost. 
 
 Leon. O peace, Paulina ; 
 
 Thou should'st a husband late by my consent, 
 As I by thine, a wife : this is a match, 
 And made betweeu's by vows. Thou hast found 
 
 mine ; 
 
 But how, is to be question'd : for I saw her, 
 As I thought, dead ; and have, in vain, said many 
 A prayer upon her grave : I'll not seek far 
 (For him, I partly know his mind,) to find thee 
 An honourable husband: Come, Camillo, 
 And take her by the hand: whose worth, and 
 
 honesty, 
 
 Is richly noted j and here justified 
 By u.=, a pair of kings. Let's from this place. 
 What ? Look upon my brother : both your par- 
 dons, 
 
 That e'er I put between your holy looks 
 My ill suspicion. This your son-in-law, 
 And son unto the king, (whom heavens directing,) 
 Is troth-plight to your daughter. Good Paulina, 
 Lead us from hence ; where we may leisurely 
 
 This play, as Dr. Warburton justly observes, is, 
 with all its absurdities, very entertaining. The 
 character of Autolycus is naturally conceived, and 
 ttrongly represented. 
 
 JOHNSON. 
 
 (3) You who by this discovery have gained w hat 
 you desired. 
 
 (4) Participate.
 
 302 ) 
 
 OF ERRORS. 
 
 PERSONS REPRESENTED. 
 
 Solinus, duke ofEphesus. 
 JEgeon, a merchant of Syraciise. 
 
 twin brother*, and son.? 
 
 Antipholus ofEphesus, 
 Antipholus of Syracuse, 
 
 to JEyeon and JEmi- 
 
 Dromio of Eph 
 Dromio of Syrac 
 
 Balthazar, a merchant. 
 Angelo, a goldsmith. 
 
 Ephesiis, > 
 Syracuse, j 
 
 I'M, but tadauwn 
 each other. 
 
 twin brothers, and atten- 
 dants on the tioo Jlnti- 
 plwlus's. 
 
 A merchant, friend to Antipholus of Syracuse. 
 Pinch, a sclwohnaster, and a conjurer. 
 
 /Emilia, wife to JEgecn, an abbess at Epheiut. 
 Adriann, wife to Jintiplidus ofEphesus. 
 Luciana, htr sister. 
 Luce, iier servant. 
 Jl courtezan. 
 
 Guoler, ojjictrs, and other attendants. 
 Scene, Ephesus. 
 
 CT I. 
 
 SCEJfE I.J1 hall in the Duke's Palace. Enter 
 Duke, ^Egeon, Gaoler, officer, and other attend- 
 
 ants. 
 
 JEgean. 
 
 JL ROCEED, Solinus, to procure my fall, 
 And, by the doom of death, end woes and all. 
 
 Duke. Merchant of Svracusa, plead no more ; 
 I am not partial, to infringe pur laws : 
 The enmity and discord, which of late 
 Sprung from the rancorous outrage of your duke 
 To merchants, our well-dealing countrymen, 
 Who, wanting guilders 1 to redeem their lives, 
 Haveseal'd his rigorous statutes with theirbloods, 
 Excludes all pity from our threat'ning looks. 
 For, since the mortal and intestine jars 
 'Twixt thy seditious countrymen and us, 
 It hath in solemn synods been decreed, 
 Both by the Syracusans and ourselves, 
 To admit no traffic to our adverse towns : 
 Nay, more, 
 
 If any, born at Ephesus, be seen 
 At any Syracusan marts 2 and fairs ; 
 Again, If any Syracusan born 
 Come to the bay ofEphesus, he dies, 
 His goods confiscate to the duke's dispose : 
 Unless a thousand marks be levied, 
 To quit the penalty, and to ransom him. 
 Thy substance, valued at the highest rate, 
 Cannot amount unto a hundred marks ; 
 Therefore, by law thou art condemn'd to die. 
 
 JEge. Yet this my comfort ; when your words 
 
 arc done, 
 Mv woes end likewise with the cvenintr sun. 
 
 "Duke. Well, Syracusan, say, in brief, the cause 
 Why thou depariedst from thy native home ; 
 And for what cause thou cam'st to Ephesus. 
 
 JEge. A heavier task could not have been im- 
 
 pos'd, 
 
 Than I to speak my griefs unspeakable : 
 Yet, that the world may witness, that my end 
 Was wrought by nature, 3 not by vile offence, 
 I'll utter wnat my sorrow gives me leave. 
 In Syracusa was I born ; and wed 
 
 (1) Name of a coin. 
 
 (2) Markets. 
 
 Unto a woman, happy but for me, 
 And by me too, had not our hap been bad. 
 With her I liv'd in joy ; our wealth increas'd, 
 By prosperous voyages I often made 
 To Epidamnum, till my factor's death ; 
 And he (great care of goods at random left) 
 Drew me from kind embracements of my spouse 
 From whom my absence was not six mo'nths old, 
 Betbie herself (almost at fainting, under 
 The pleasing punishment that women bear,) 
 Had made provision for her following me, 
 And soon, and safe, arrived where I was. 
 There she had not been long, but she became 
 A joyful mother of two goodly sons; 
 And, which was strange, the'one so like the other. 
 As could not be distinguished but by names. 
 That very hour, and in the self-same inn, 
 A poor mean woman was delivered 
 Of such a burden, male twins, both alike : 
 Those, for their parents were exceeding poor, 
 I bought, and brought up to attend my sons. 
 My wife, not meanly proud of two such boys, 
 Made daily motions for our home return : 
 Unwilling I agreed ; alas, too soon. 
 We came aboard : 
 
 A league from Epidamnum had we sail'd, 
 Before the always-wind-obeying deep 
 Gave any tragic instance of our harm : 
 But longer did we not retain much hope ; 
 For what obscared light the heavens aid grant 
 Did but convey unto our fearful minds 
 A doubtful warrant of immediate death ; 
 Which, though myself would gladly have embrac'd, 
 Yet the incessant weepings of my wife, 
 Weeping before for what, she saw must come, 
 <Vnd piteous plninings of the pretty babes, 
 That mourn'a for fashion, ignorant what to fear, 
 ?orc'd me to seek delays for them and me. 
 And this it was, for other means was none. 
 The sailors sought for safety by pur boat, 
 And left the ship, then sinking ripe, to us : 
 Sly wife, more careful for the latter born, 
 Had fasten'd him unto a small spare mast, 
 jSuch as sea-faring men provide for storms ; 
 To him one of the other twins was bound, 
 Whilst I had been like heedful of the other. 
 The children thus dispos'd, my wife and I, 
 
 (3) Natural affection.
 
 Scene //. 
 
 COMEDY OF ERRORS. 
 
 303 
 
 Fixing our eyes on whom our care was fix'd, 
 Fasten'd ourselves at either end the mast ; 
 And floating straight, obedient to the stream. 
 Were carried towards Corinth, as we thought. 
 At length the sun, gazing upon the earth, 
 Dispers'd those vapours that offended us ; 
 And, by the benefit of his wish'd light, 
 The seas wax'd calm, and we discovered 
 Two ships from far making amain to us, 
 Of Corinth that, of Epidaurus this : 
 But ere they came, 0, let me say no more ! 
 Gather the sequel by that went before. 
 
 [Try all the friends thou hast in Epnesus ; 
 I Beg thou, or borrow, to make up the sum, 
 And live ; if not, then thou art doom'd to die : 
 Gaoler, take him to thy custody. 
 
 Gaol. I will, my lord. 
 
 JEge. Hopeless, and helpless, doth JEgeon wend, 1 
 But to procrastinate his lifeless end. [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE II. ~3 public place. Enter Antipholus 
 
 and Dromio of Syritnac, and a Merchant. 
 Mer. Therefore, give out you are of Epidamnum, 
 Lest that your goods too soon be confiscate. 
 
 Duke. Nay, forward, old man, do not break ofilThis very day, a Syracusan merchant 
 
 For we may pity, though not pardon thee. 
 
 JEge. 0, had the gods done so, I had not now 
 Worthily term'd them merciless to us ! 
 For, ere the ships could meet by twice five leagues, 
 We were encounter'd by a mighty rock ; 
 Which being violently borne upon, 
 Our helpful ship was splitted in the midst, 
 So that, in this unjust divorce of us, 
 Fortune had left to both of us alike 
 What to delight in, what to sorrow for. 
 Her part, poor soul ! seeming as burdened 
 With lesser weight, but not with lesser wo, 
 Was carried with more speed before the wind ; 
 And in our sight they three were taken up 
 By fishermen of Corinth, as we thought. 
 At length, another ship had seized on us ; 
 And, knowing whom it was their hap to save, 
 Gave helpful welcome to their shipwreck'd guests ; 
 And would have reft" the fishers of their prey, 
 Had not their bark been very slow of sail, 
 And therefore homeward did they bend their course. 
 Thus have you heard me scvcr'd from my bliss ; 
 That by misfortunes was my life prolonged, 
 To tell'sad stories of my own mishaps. 
 
 Duke. And, for the sake of them thou sorrowest 
 
 for, 
 
 Do me the favour to dilate at full 
 What hath befall'n of them, and thee, till now. 
 
 JEge. My youngest boy, and yet my eldest care, 
 At eighteen years became inquisitive 
 After his brother ; and imp6rtun'd me ? 
 That his attendant, (for his case was like, 
 Reft of his brother, but retain'd his name,) 
 Might bear him company ia the quest of him : 
 Whom whilst I labour'd of a love to see, 
 I hazarded the loss of whom I lov'd. 
 Five summers have I spent in furthest Greece, 
 Roaming clean- through the bounds of Asia, 
 And, coasting homeward, came to Ephesus ; 
 Hopeless to find, yet loth to leave unsought, 
 Or that, or any place that harbours men. 
 But here must end the story of my life ; 
 And happy were I in my timely death, 
 Could all my travels warrant me they live. 
 
 Duke. Hapless JEgcon, whom the fates have 
 
 mark'd 
 
 To bear the extremity of dire mishap ! 
 Now, trust me, were it not against, our laws, 
 Asrainst my crown, my oath, my dignity, 
 Which princes, would they, may not disannul, 
 My soul should sue an advocate for thee. 
 But, though thou art adjudged to the death, 
 And passed sentence may not be recall'd, 
 But to our honour's great disparagement, 
 Yet will I favour thee in what I can : 
 Therefore, merchant, I'll limit thee this day, 
 1 To seek thy help by beneficial help : 
 
 1) Deprived. () Clear, completely. 
 
 3) Go. (4) The'eign of their hotel. 
 
 i?) 
 
 Is apprehended for arrival here ; 
 And, not being able to buy out his life, 
 According to the statute of the town, 
 Dies ere the weary sun set in the west. 
 There is your money that I had to keep. 
 
 Ant. S. Go bear it to the Centaur,* where we host, 
 And stay there, Dromio, till I come to thee. 
 Within this hour it will be dinner-time : 
 Till that, I'll view the manners of the town, 
 Peruse the traders, gaze upon the buildings, 
 And then return, and sleep within mine inn ; 
 For with long travel I am stiff and weary. 
 Get thee away. 
 
 Dro. S. Many a man would take you at your 
 
 word, 
 And go indeed, having so good a mean. 
 
 [Exit Dro. S. 
 
 ant. S. A trusty villain, 5 sir ; that very oft, 
 When I am dull with care and melancholy, 
 Lightens my humour with his merry jests. 
 What will you walk with me about the town, 
 And then go to my inn, and dine with me ? 
 
 Mer. I am invited, air, to certain merchants, 
 Of whom I hope to make much benefit : 
 I crave your pardon. Soon, at five o'clock, 
 Please you, I'll meet with you upon the mart, 
 And afterwards consort you till bed-time ; 
 My present business calls me from you now. 
 
 dnt. S. Farewell till then : I will go lose myself, 
 And wander up and down, to view the city. 
 
 Mer. Sir, I commend you to your own content. 
 [Exit Merchant. 
 
 Jlnt. S. He that commends me to mine own 
 
 content, 
 
 Commends me to the thing I cannot get. 
 I to the world arn like a drop of water, 
 That in the ocean seeks another drop ; 
 \Vho, falling there to find his fellow forth, 
 Unseen, inquisitive, confounds himself: 
 So I, to find a mother, and a brother, 
 In quest of them, unhappy, lose myself. 
 
 Enter Dromio of Ephesus. 
 Here comes the almanac of my true date. 
 What now ? How chance, thou art return'd so soon 7 
 
 Dro. E. Return'd so soon ! rather approach'd 
 
 too late : 
 
 The capon burns, the pig falls from the spit ; 
 The clock hath strucken twelve upon the bell, 
 My mistress made it one upon my cheek : 
 She is so hot because the meat is cold ; 
 The meat is cold, because you come not home ; 
 You come not home, because you have no stomach ; 
 You have no stomach, having broke your fast ; 
 But we, that know what 'tis to fast and pray, 
 Are penitent for your default to-day. 
 
 Int. S. Stop in your wind, sir ; tell me this, 1 
 
 pray; 
 Where have you left the money that I gave you ? 
 
 (5) i. e. Servant. (6) Exchange, market-place,
 
 304 
 
 COMEDY OF ERRORS. 
 
 Act II. 
 
 Dro. E. 0, six-pence, that I had o' Wednesday 
 
 last, 
 
 To pay the saddler for my mistress' crupper ; 
 The saddler had it, sir, I kept it not. 
 
 Jlnt. S. I am not in a sportive humour now : 
 Tell me, and dally not, where is the money ? 
 We being strangers here, how dar'st thou trust 
 So great a charge from thine own custody ? 
 
 Dro. E. I pray you, jest, sir, as you sit at dinner : 
 I from my mistress come to you in post ; 
 If I return, I shall be post indeed: 
 For she will score your fault upon my pate. 
 Methinks, your maw, like mine, should be your 
 
 clock, 
 And strike you home without a messenger. 
 
 .int. S. Come, Dromio, come, these jests are 
 
 out of season ; 
 
 Reserve them till a merrier hour than this : 
 Where is the gold I gave in charge to thee ? 
 
 Dro. E. To me, sir ? why you gave no gold to me. 
 
 Jlnt. S. Come on, sir knave, have done your 
 
 foolishness, 
 And tell me, how thou hast dispos'd thy charge. 
 
 Dro. E. My charge was hut to fetch you from 
 
 the mart 
 
 Home to your house, the Phoenix, sir, to dinner ; 
 My mistress, and her sister, stay for you. 
 
 Jlnt. S. Now, as I am a Christian]! answer me, 
 In what safe place you have bestow'd my money ; 
 Or I shall break that merry sconce 1 of yours, 
 That stands on tricks when I am undispos'd : 
 Where is the thousand marks thou hadst of me ? 
 
 Dro. E. I have some marks of yours upon my 
 
 pate, 
 
 Some of my mistress' mnrks upon my shoulders, 
 But not a thousand marks between you both. 
 If I should pay your worship those again, 
 Perchance, you will not bear them patiently. 
 
 Jlni. S. Thy mistress' marks ! what mistress, 
 slave, hast thou ? 
 
 Dro. E. Your worship's wife, my mistress at 
 
 the Phoenix ; 
 
 She that doth fast, till you come home to dinner, 
 And prays, that you will hie you home to dinner. 
 
 Int. S. What, wilt thou flout me thus unto my 
 
 face, 
 Being forbid ? There, take you that, sir knave. 
 
 Dro. E. What mean you, sir ? lor God's sake, 
 
 hold your hands ; 
 Nay, an you will not, sir, I'll take my heels. 
 
 [Exit Dromio E. 
 
 Jlnt. S. Upon my life, by some device or other, 
 The villain is o'er-rauaht 2 of all my money. 
 They say. this town is full of cozenage ; 
 As, nimble jugglers, that deceive the eye, 
 Dark-working sorcerers, that change the mind, 
 Soul-killing witches, that deform the body ; 
 Disguised cheaters, prating mountebanks, 
 Ana many such like liberties of sin: 
 If it prove so, I will be gone the sooner. 
 I'll to the Centaur, to go seek this slave ; 
 I greatly fear, my money is not safe. 
 
 [Exit. 
 
 ACT II. 
 
 SCENE I.Jl public place. Enter Adriana, 
 
 and Luciana. 
 
 Jldr. Neither my husband, nor the slave return'd, 
 That in such haste I sent to seek his master ! 
 Sure, Luciana, it is two o'clock. 
 
 (1) Head. 
 
 (2) Over-reached, 
 
 Luc. Perhaps, some merchant hath invited him, 
 And from the mart he's somewhere gone to dinner. 
 Good sister, let us dine, and never fret : 
 A man is master of his liberty : 
 Time is their master ; and, when they see time, 
 They'll go, or come : If so, be patient, sister. 
 
 Jldr. Why should their liberty than ours be more ? 
 
 Luc. Because their business still lies out o'dopr. 
 
 Jldr. Look, when I serve him so, he takes it ill. 
 
 Luc. 0, know, he is the bridle of your will. 
 
 Jldifr There's none, but asses, will be bridled so. 
 
 Luc. Why, headstrong liberty is lash'd with wo. 
 There's nothing, situate under heaven's eye, 
 But hath his bound, in earth, in sea, in sky : 
 The beasts, the fishes, and the winged fowls, 
 Arc their males' subjects, and at then- controls 
 Men, mare divine, and masters of all these, 
 Lords of the wide world, and wild wat'ry seas, 
 Indued with intellectual sense and souls, 
 Of more pre-eminence than fish and fowls, 
 Are masters to their females, and their lords : 
 Then let your will attend on their accords. 
 
 Jldr. This servitude makes you to keep unwed. 
 
 Luc. Not this, but troubles of the marriage bed. 
 
 +idr. But, were you wedded, you would bear 
 some sway. 
 
 Luc. Ere I learn love, I'll practise to obey. 
 
 Mr. How if your husband start some other- 
 where ? 
 
 Luc. Till he come home again, I would forbear. 
 
 Jldr. Patience unmov'd, no marvel though she 
 
 pause ; 
 
 They can lie meek, that have no other cause. 
 A wretched soul, bruis'd with adversity, 
 We bid be quiet, when we hear it cry ;" 
 But were we burthen'd with like weight of pain, 
 As much, or more, we should ourselves complain : 
 So thou, that hast no unkind mate to grieve thee, 
 With urging helpless patience would'st relieve me : 
 But, if thou live to see like right bereft, 
 This fool-begg'd patience in thee will be left. 
 
 Luc. Well, I will marry one day, but to try ; 
 Here conies your man, now is your husband nigh. 
 
 Enter Dromio o/Ephesus. 
 
 Adr. Say, is your tardy master now at hand ? 
 
 Dro. E. Nay, he is at two hands with me, and 
 that my two ears can witness. 
 
 .7i/r. Say, didst thou speak with him ? know'st 
 thou his mind ? 
 
 Dro. E. Ay, ay, he told his mind upon mine ear : 
 Beshrew his hand, I scarce could understand it. 
 
 Luc. Spake he so doubtfully, thou couldst not 
 feel his meaning ? 
 
 Dro. E. Nay, he struck so plainly, I could too 
 well feel his blows ; and withal so doubtfully, that 
 I could scarce understand them. 3 
 
 Jldr. But say, I pr'ythce, is he coming home ? 
 It. seems, he, hath great care to please his wife. 
 
 Dro. E. Why, mistress, sure my master is horn- 
 mad. 
 
 Jldr. Horn-mad, thou villain ? 
 
 Dro. E. I mean not cuckold-mad ; but, sure, 
 
 he's stark mad : 
 
 When I dcsir'd him to come home (o dinner, 
 He ask'd me for a thousand marks in gold : 
 'Tis dinner-time, quoth I ; My gold, quoth he: 
 Your meat doth burn, quoth I ; My gold, quoth he : 
 Will you come home 1 quoth I ; My gold, quoth he : 
 Where is the thousand marks I gave ihee, villain ? 
 The pig, quoth I, is burn'd; JV/j/ gold, quoth he : 
 My mistress, sir, quoth I ; Hang up thy mistress; 
 
 (3) t. e. Scarce stand under them,
 
 Seen* /;. 
 
 COMEDY OF ERRORS. 
 
 305 
 
 / know not thy mistress'; out on thy mistress ! 
 Luc. Quoth who ? 
 Dro. E. Quoth my master : 
 
 J fcnotr, quoth he, no' house, no wife, no mistress ; 
 So that my errand, due unto my tongue, 
 I thank him, I bear home upon my shoulders ; 
 For, in conclusion, he did beat me there. 
 Adr. Go back again, thou slave, and fetch him 
 
 home. 
 Dro. E. Go back again, and be new beaten 
 
 home? 
 
 For God's sake, send some other messenger. 
 Mr. Back, slave, or I will break thy pate across. 
 Dro. E. And he will bless that cross with other 
 
 beating : 
 
 Between you, I shall have a holy head. 
 Adr. Hence, prating peasant ; fetch thy master 
 
 home. 
 
 Dro. E. Am I so round with you, as you with me, 
 That like a football you do spurn me thus ? 
 You spurn me hence, and he will spurn me hither : 
 If I last in this service, vou must case me in leather. 
 
 [Exit. 
 
 Luc. Fie, how impatience low'reth in your face ! 
 Adr. His company must do his minions grace, 
 Whilst I at home, starve for a merry look. . 
 Hath homely age the alluring beauty took 
 From my poor cheek ? then he hath wasted it : 
 Are my discourses dull ? barren my wit ? 
 If volume and sharp discourse be marr'd, 
 L'nkindness blunts it, more than marble hard. 
 Do their gay vestments his affections bait ? 
 That's not my fault, he's master of my state : 
 What ruins are in me that can be found 
 By him not ruin'd ? then is he the Ground 
 Of my defeatures : ' My decayed fair 2 
 A sunny look of his would soon repair : 
 But, too unruly deer, he breaks the pale, 
 And feeds from home ; poor I am but his stale. 3 
 Luc. Self-arming jealousy ! tie, beat it hence. 
 Jldr. Unfeeling fools can with such wrongs dis- 
 pense. 
 
 I know his eye doth homage otherwhere; 
 Or else, what lets* it but he would be here ? 
 Sister, you know he promis'd me a chain ; 
 Would that alone, alone he would detain, 
 So he would keep fair quarter with his bed ! 
 I see, the jewel, best enamelled, 
 Will lose his beauty ; and though gold 'bides still, 
 That others touch, yet often touching will 
 Wear gold : and so no msn, that hath a name, 
 But falsehood and corruption doth it shame. 
 Since that my beauty cannot please his eye, 
 I'll weep what's left away, and weeping die. 
 Luc. How many fond fools serve mad jealousy ! 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 SCE.VE II. The same. Enter Antipholus of 
 
 Syracuse. 
 
 Ant. S. The gold, I gave to Dromio, is laid up 
 Safe at the Centaur ; and the heedful slave 
 Is wander'd forth, in care to seek me out. 
 By computation, and mine host's report, 
 I could not speak with Dromio, since at first 
 I sent him from the mart : See, here he comes. 
 
 Enter Dromio of Syracuse. 
 
 How now, sir ? is your merry humour alter'd ? 
 As you love strokes, so jest with me again. 
 You know no Centaur ? you receiv'd no gold ? 
 
 (1) Alteration of features. (2) fair, for fairness. 
 (S) Stalking-horse. (4) Hinders. 
 
 (5) t. e. Intrude on them when you please. 
 
 k'our mistress sent to hare me home to dinner? 
 Vly house was at the Phoenix ? Wast thou mad, 
 That thus so madly thou didst answer me ? 
 
 Dro. S. What answer, sir ? when spake I such 
 a word ? 
 
 Ant. S. Even now, even here, not half an hour 
 since. 
 
 Dro. S. I did not see you since you sent me 
 
 hence, 
 Home to the Centaur, with the gold you gave me. 
 
 .int. i>. Villain, thou didst deny the gold's re- 
 ceipt; 
 
 And told'st me of a mistress and a dinner ; 
 For which, I hope, thou felt'st I was displeas'd. 
 
 Dro. S. I am glad to see you in this merry vein : 
 What means this jest ? I pray you, master, tell me. 
 
 Ant. S. Yea, dost thou jeer, and flout me in the 
 
 teeth ? 
 
 Think'st thou, I jest ? Hold, take thou that, and 
 that. [Beating him. 
 
 Dro. S. Hold, sir, for God's sake : now your 
 
 jest is earnest : 
 Upon what bargain do you give it me ? 
 
 Ant. S. Because that I familiarly sometimes 
 Do use you for my fool, and chat with you, 
 Your sauciness will jest upon my love, 
 And make a common of my serious hours. 5 
 When the sun shines, let foolish gnats make sport, 
 But creep in crannies, when he hides his beams. 
 If you will jest with me, know my aspe'ct, 6 
 And fashion your demeanour to my looks, 
 Or I will beat this method in your sconce. 
 
 Dro. S. Sconce, call you it? so you i\;puld leave 
 battering, I had rather have it a head : an you 
 use these blows long, I must get a sconce for my 
 head, and insconce' it too ; or else I shall seek my 
 wit in my shoulders. But, I pray, sir, why am I 
 beaten ? 
 
 Ant. S. Dost thou not know ? 
 
 Dro. S. Nothing, sir ; but that I am beaten. 
 
 Ant. S. Shall I tell you why ? 
 
 Dro. S. A}', sir, and wherefore ; for, they say, 
 every why hath a wherefore. 
 
 Ant. S. Why, first, for flouting me ; and then, 
 
 wherefore, 
 For urging it the second time to me. 
 
 Dro. 8. Was there ever any man thus beaten 
 
 out of season, 
 When, in the why, and the wherefore, is neither 
 
 rhyme nor reason ? 
 Well, sir, f thank you. 
 
 Ant. S. Thank me, sir? for what? 
 
 Dro. S. Marry, sir, for this something that you 
 gave me for nothing. 
 
 Ant. S. I'll make you amends next, to give you 
 nothing for something. But say, sir, is it dinner- 
 time? 
 
 Dro. S. No, sir; I think, the meat wants that I 
 have. 
 
 Ant. S. In good time, sir, what's that? 
 
 Dro. S. Basting. 
 
 Ant. >'. Well, sir, then 'twill be dry. 
 
 Dro. S. If it be, sir, I pray you eat none of it. 
 
 Ant. S. Your reason ? 
 
 Dro. S. Lest it make you choleric, and purchase 
 me another dry basting. 
 
 Ant. S. Well, sir. learn to jest in good tune ; 
 There's a time for all things. 
 
 Dro. S. I durst have denied that, before yon 
 were so choleric. 
 
 Ant. S. By what rule, sir? 
 
 (6| Study my countenance. 
 (7) A sconce was a fortification. 
 
 2Q
 
 306 
 
 COMEDY OP ERRORS. 
 
 Jet II. 
 
 Dro. S. Marry, sir, by a rule as plain as the 
 plain bald pate of father Time himself. 
 
 Ant. S. Let's hear it. 
 
 Dro. S. There's no time for a man to recover 
 his hair, that grows bald by nature. 
 
 Ant. S. May he not do it by fine and recovery ? 
 
 Dro. S. Yes, to pay a fine for a peruke, and re- 
 cover the lost hair of another man. 
 
 Ant. S. Why is time such a niggard of hair, 
 being, as it is, so plentiful an excrement ? 
 
 Dro. S. Because it is a blessing that he bestows 
 on beasts : and what he hath scanted men in hair, 
 he hath given them in wit. 
 
 Ant. S. Why, but there's many a man hath more 
 hair than wit. 
 
 Dro. S. Not a man of those, but he hath the wit 
 to lose his hair. 
 
 Ant. S. Why, thou didst conclude hairy men 
 plain dealers without wit. 
 
 Dro. S. The plainer dealer, the sooner lost : Yet 
 he loseth it in a kind of jollity. 
 
 Ant. S. For what reason ? 
 
 Dro. S. For two ; and sound ones too. 
 
 Ant. S. Nay, not sound, I pray you 
 
 Dro. S. Sure ones then. 
 
 Ant. S. Nay, not sure, in a thing falsing. 
 
 Dro. S. Certain ones then. 
 
 Ant. S. Name them. 
 
 Dro. S. The one, to save the money that he 
 spends in tiring; the other, that at dinner they 
 should not drop in his porridge. 
 
 Ant. S. You would all this time have proved 
 there is no time for all things. 
 
 Dro. S. Marry, and did, sir ; namely, no time 
 to recover hair lost by nature. 
 
 Ant. S. But your reason was not substantial, 
 why there is no time to recover. 
 
 Dro. S. Thus I mend it : Time himself is bald, 
 and therefore, to the world's end, will have bald 
 followers. 
 
 Ant. S. I knew, 'twould be a bald conclusion : 
 But soft ! who wafts' us yonder ? 
 
 Enter Adriana and Luciana. 1 
 
 Adr. Ay, ay, Antipholus, look strange, and 
 
 frown ; 
 
 Some other mistress hath thy sweet aspects, 
 I am not Adriana, nor thy wife. 
 The time was once, when thou unurg'd would'st 
 
 vow, 
 
 That never words were music to thine ear, ", 
 That never object pleasing in thine eye. 
 That never touch well-welcome to thy hand, 
 That never meat sweet-savour'd in thy taste, 
 Unless I spake, look'd, touch'd, or carv'd to thee. 
 How comes it now, my husband, oh, how comes it, 
 That thou art then estranged from thyself? 
 Thyself I call it, being strange to -me, 
 That, undividable, incorporate, 
 Am better than thy dear self's better part. 
 Ah, do not tear away thyself from me ; 
 For know, my love, as easy may'st thon fall 
 A drop of water in the breaking gulf, 
 And take unmingled thence that drop again, 
 Without addition, or diminishing, 
 As take from me thyself, and not me too. 
 How dearly would it touch thee to the quick, 
 Should'st thou but hear I were licentious ; . 
 And that this body, consecrate to thee, 
 By ruffian lust should be contaminate ! 
 Would'st thou not spit at me, and spurn at me, 
 And hurl the name of husband in my face, 
 
 (1) Beckon;, 
 
 (2) Unfertile. 
 
 And tear the stain'd skin off my harlot brow, 
 
 And from my false hand cut the wedding ring, 
 
 And break it with a deep-divorcing vow f 
 
 I know thou capst ; and therefore, see, thon do it. 
 
 I am possess'd with an adulterate blot ; 
 
 My blood is mingled with the crime of lust : 
 
 For, if we two be one, and thou play false, 
 
 I dp digest the poison of thy flesh, 
 
 Being strumpeted by thy contagion. 
 
 Keep then fair league and truce with thy true bed ; 
 
 I live dis-stain'd. thou undishonoured. 
 
 Ant. S. Plead you to me, fair dame? I know 
 
 you not : 
 
 In Ephesus I am but two hours old, 
 As strange unto your town, as to your talk ; 
 Who, every word by all my wit being scann'd, 
 Want wit in all one word to understand. 
 
 Luc. Fie, brother ! how the world is chang'd 
 
 with you ! 
 
 When were you wont to use my sister thus ? 
 She sent for you by Dromio home to dinner. 
 
 Ant. S. By Dromio? 
 
 Dro. S. Byrne? 
 
 Adr. By thee : and this thou did'st return from 
 
 him, 
 
 That he did buffet thee, and, in his blows, 
 Deny'd my house for his, me for his wife. 
 
 Ant. S. Did you converse, sir, with this gentle- 
 woman ? 
 What is the course and drift of your compact? 
 
 Dro. S. I, sir ? I never saw her till this time. 
 
 Ant. i). Villain, thou liest ; for even her very 
 
 words 
 Didst thou deliver to me on the mart. 
 
 Dro. S. I never spake with her in all my life. 
 
 Ant. JS. How can she thus then call us by our 
 
 names, 
 Unless it be by inspiration ? 
 
 Adr. How ill agrees it with your gravity, 
 To counterfeit thus grossly with your slave, 
 Abetting him to thwart me in my mood ! 
 Be it my wrong, you are from me exempt, 
 But wrong not that wrong with a more contempt. 
 Come, I will fasten on this sleeve of thine : 
 Thou art an elm, my husband, I a vine ; 
 Whose weakness, married to thy stronger state, 
 Makes me with thy strength to communicate : 
 If aught possess thee from me, it is dross, 
 Usurping ivy, briar, or idle- moss ; 
 Who, all for want of pruning, with intrusion 
 Infect thy sap, and live on thy confusion, 
 
 Ant. S. To me she speaks ; she moves me for 
 
 her theme : 
 
 What, was I married to* her in my dream ? 
 Or sleep I now, and think I hear all this ? 
 What error drives our eyes and ears amiss ? 
 Until I know this sure uncertainly, 
 I'll entertain the offer'd fallacy. 
 
 Luc. Dromio, go bid the servants spread for 
 dinner. 
 
 Dro. S. O, for my beads ! I cross me for a sinner. 
 This is the fairy land ; O, spite of spites ! 
 We talk with goblins, owls, and elvish sprites ; 
 If we obey them not, this will ensue, 
 They'll suck our breath, or pinch us black and blue. 
 
 Luc. Why prat'st thou to thyself, and answer's! 
 
 not? 
 Dromio, thou drone, thou snail, thou slug, thou sot ! 
 
 Dro. S. I am transform'd, master, am not I ? 
 
 Ant. S. I think, thou art, in mind, and so am I. 
 
 Dro. S. Nay, master, both in mind, and in my 
 shape. 
 
 Ant . S. Thou hast thine own form. 
 
 Dro. S. , . . No, I am an ape,
 
 Scene I. 
 
 COMEDY OF ERRORS. 
 
 307 
 
 Luc. If thou art chang'd to aught, 'tis to an ass. 
 
 Dro. S. 'Tis true ; she rides me, and I long for 
 
 grass. 
 
 'Tis so, I am an ass ; else it could never be, 
 But I should know her as well as she knows me. 
 
 Mr. Coine, come, no longer will I be a fool, 
 To put the finger in the eye and weep, 
 Whilst man, and master, laugh my woes to scorn. 
 Come, sir, to dinner; Dromio, keep the gate : 
 Husband, I'll dine above with you to-day, 
 And shrive 1 you of a thousand idle pranks : 
 Sirrah, if any ask you for your master, 
 Say, he dines forth, and let no creature enter. 
 Come, sister: Dromio, play the porter well. 
 
 .inf. S. Am I in earth, in heaven, or in hell? 
 Sleeping, or waking ? mad, or well-advis'd ? 
 Known unto these, and to myself disguis'd ! 
 Pll say as they say, and persever so, 
 And in this trust a't all adventures go. 
 
 Dro. S. Master, shall I be porter at the gate ? 
 
 ftdr. Ay ; and let none enter, lest I break your 
 pate. 
 
 Luc. Come, corne, Antipholus, we dine too late. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 ACT III. 
 
 SCENE I. The same. Enter Antipholus of 
 Ephesus, Dromio o/Ephesus, Angelo, and Bal- 
 thazar. 
 
 Jut. E. Good signior Angelo, you must excuse 
 
 us all ; 
 
 My wife is shrewish, when I keep not hours : 
 Say, that I linzer'd with you at your shop, 
 To see the making of her carkanet, 2 
 And that to-morrow you will bring it home. 
 But here's a villain, that would face me down 
 He met me on the mart ; and that I beat him, 
 And charg'd him with a thousand marks in gold ; 
 And that I did deny my wife and house : 
 Thou drunkard, thou, what didst thou mean by 
 
 this / 
 Dro. E. Say what you will, sir, but I know what 
 
 I know: 
 That you beat me at the mart, I have your hand to 
 
 show : 
 If the skin were parchment, and the blows you 
 
 gave were ink, 
 
 Your own hand-writing would tell you what I think. 
 slut. E. I think, thou art an ass. 
 Dro. E. Marry, so it doth appear 
 
 By the wrongs I suffer, and the blows I bear. 
 I should kick, being kick'd ; and, being at that pass, 
 You would keep from my heels, and beware of an 
 
 ass. 
 .inf. . You are sad, signior Balthazar : 'Pray 
 
 God, our cheer 
 . May answer my good will, and your good welcome 
 
 here. 
 Bal. I hold your dainties cheap, sir, and your 
 
 welcome dear. 
 Jint. E. O, signior Balthazar, either at flesh or 
 
 fish, 
 A table full of welcome makes scarce one dainty 
 
 dish. 
 Bal. Good meat, sir, is common ; that every 
 
 churl affords. 
 
 Jint. E. And welcome more common; for that's 
 nothing but words. 
 
 (1) Absolve. (2) A necklace strung with pearls. 
 (S) Dishes of meat. (4) Blockhead. (5) Fool. 
 
 Bal. Small cheer, and great welcome, makes a 
 
 merry feast. 
 Jint. E. Ay, to a niggardly host, and more 
 
 sparing guest : 
 But though my cates 1 be mean, take them in good 
 
 part; 
 Better cheer may you have, but not with better 
 
 heart. 
 
 But, soft; my door is lock'd ; Go bid them let us in. 
 Dro. E. Maud, Bridget, Marian, Cicely, Gil- 
 lian, Jen' ! 
 Dro. S. [Within.] Mome, 4 malt-horse, capon, 
 
 coxcomb, idioL patch ! 4 
 Either get thee from the door, or sit down at the 
 
 hatch : 
 Dost thou conjure for wenches, that thou call'st for 
 
 such store, 
 When one is one too many ? Go, get thee from the 
 
 door. 
 Dro. E. What patch is made our porter? My 
 
 master stays in the street. 
 Dra. S. Let him walk from whence he came, 
 
 lest he catch cold on's feet. 
 Jint. E. Who talks within there ? ho, open the 
 
 door. 
 Dro. S. Right, sir, I'll tell you when, an you'll 
 
 tell me wheref6re. 
 Jint. E. Wherefore ? for my dinner ; I have not 
 
 din'd to-day. 
 Dro. S. Nor to-day here you must not ; come 
 
 again, when you may. 
 .inf. E. What art thou, that keep'st me out from 
 
 the house I owe? 6 
 Dro. S. The porter for this time, sir, and my 
 
 name is Dromio. 
 
 Dro. E. villain, thou hast stolen both mine of- 
 fice and my name ; 
 The one ne'er got me credit, the other mickle 
 
 blame. 
 
 If thou had'st been Dromio to-day in my place, 
 Thou would'st have chang'd thy face for a name, 
 
 or thy name for an ass. 
 Luce. [ fPuMM.1 What a coil' is there ? Dromio, 
 
 who are those at the pate ? 
 Dro. E. Let my master in, Luce. 
 Luce. Faith, no ; he comes too late ; 
 
 And so tell your master. 
 
 Dro. E. O Lord, I must laugh : 
 
 Have at you with a proverb. Shall I set in my 
 
 staff? 
 Luce. Have at you with another : that's, When ? 
 
 can you tell ? 
 Dro. S. u thy name be call'd Luce, Luce, thou 
 
 hast answer'd him well. 
 Jint. E. Do you hear, you minion ? you'll let us 
 
 in, I hope ? 
 
 Luce. I thought to have ask'd you. 
 Dro. S. And you said, no. 
 
 Dro. E. So, come, help ; well struck ; there 
 
 was blow for blow, 
 .int. E. Thou bageage, let me in. 
 Luce. Can you tell for whose sake? 
 
 Dro. E. Master, knock the door hard. 
 Luce. Let him knock till it ache. 
 
 Jint. E. You'll cry for this, minion, if I beat the 
 
 door down. 
 Luce. What needs all that, and a pair of stocks 
 
 in the town ? 
 Adr. [Within.] Who is that at the door, that 
 
 keeps all this noise ? 
 Dro. S. By my troth, your town is troubled with 
 
 unruly boys. 
 
 (6) I own, am owner of. (7) Bustle, tumult,
 
 COMEDY OF ERRORS. 
 
 Act m. 
 
 Ant. E. Are you there, wife ? you might have 
 
 come before. 
 Mr. Your wife, sir knave ? go, get you from 
 
 the door. 
 Dro. E. If you went in pain, master, this knave 
 
 would go sore. 
 An%. Here is neither cheer, sir, nor welcome ; 
 
 we would fain have either. 
 Bal. In debating which was best, we shall part 1 
 
 with neither. 
 Dro. E. They stand at the door, master ; bid 
 
 them welcome hither. 
 Ant, E. There is something in the ivind, that we 
 
 cannot get in. 
 Dro. E. You would say so, master, if your 
 
 garments were thin. 
 Your cake here is warm within ; you stand here 
 
 in the cold : 
 It would make a man mad as a buck, to be so 
 
 bought and sold. 2 
 Ant. E. Go, fetch me something, I'll break ope 
 
 the gate. 
 Dro. S. Break any breaking here, and I'll break 
 
 vour knave's pate. 
 Dro. E. A man may break a word with you, 
 
 sir : and words are but wind ; 
 Ay, and break it in your face, so he break it not 
 
 behind. 
 Dro. S. It seems, thou wanlest breaking : Out 
 
 upon thee, hind ! 
 Dro. E. Here's too much, out upon thee ! I 
 
 pray thee, let me in. 
 Dro. S. Ay, when fowls have no feathers, and 
 
 fish have no fin. 
 Ant. E. Well, I'll break in ; Go borrow me a 
 
 crow. 
 Dro. E. A crow without a feather ; master, 
 
 mean you so? 
 For a fish without a fin, there's a fowl without a 
 
 feather : 
 If a crow help us in, sirrah, we'll pluck a crow 
 
 together. 
 Jlnt. .~Go, get thee gone, fetch me an iron 
 
 crow. 
 
 Bal. Have patience,. sir ; O, let it not be so ; 
 Herein you war against your reputation, 
 And draw within the compass of suspect 
 The unviolated honour of your wife. 
 Once this, Your long experience of her wisdom, 
 Her sober virtue, years, and modesty, 
 Plead on her part some cause to you unknown ; 
 And doubt not, sir, that she will well excuse 
 Why at this time the doors are made 3 against you. 
 Be rul'd by me ; depart in patience, 
 And let us to the Tiger all to dinner r 
 And, about evening, come yourself alone ? 
 To know the reason of this strange restraint. 
 If by strong hand you offer to break in, 
 Now in the stirring passage of the day, 
 A vulgar comment will be made on it; 
 And that suppos'd by the common rout 
 Against your vet ungalled estimation, 
 That may with foul intrusion enter in, 
 And dwell upon your grave when you arc dead : 
 For slander lives upon succession ; 
 For ever hous'd, where it once gets po_ssession. 
 Ant. E. You have prevailed ; I will depart in 
 
 quiet, 
 
 And, in despite of mirth, mean to he merry. 
 I know a wench of excellent discourse, 
 
 (1) Have part. (2) A proverbial phrase. 
 
 (3) t. e. Made fast. (4) By this time. 
 
 (5) Love-springs arc young plants or shoots of love. 
 
 Pretty and witty ; wild, and, yet too, gentle ; 
 
 There will we dine : this woman that I mean, 
 
 My wife (but, I protest, without desert,) 
 
 Hath oftentimes upbraided me withal ; 
 
 To her will we to dinner. Get you home, 
 
 And fetch the chain ; by this,* 1 know, 'tis made : 
 
 Bring it, I pray you, to "the Porcupine ; 
 
 For there's the house ; that chain will I bestow 
 
 (Be it for nothing but to spite my wife,) 
 
 Upon mine hostess there : good sir, make haste : 
 
 Since mine own doors refuse to entertain me, 
 
 I'll knock elsewhere, to see if they'll disdain me. 
 
 Ang. I'll meet you at that place, some hour 
 hence. 
 
 Ant. E. Do so : This jest shall cost me some 
 expense. [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE II. The same. Enter Luciana, mid 
 Antipholus of Syracuse. 
 
 Luc. And may it be that, you have quite forgot 
 
 A husband's office ? Shall, Anlipholus, hate, 
 Even in the spring of love, thy love-springs 5 rot ? 
 
 Shall love, in building, grow so ruinate ? 
 If you did wed my sister for her wealth, 
 
 Then, for her wealth's sake, use her with more 
 
 kindness : 
 Or, if you like elsewhere, do it by stealth ; 
 
 Muffle your false love with some show of blind- 
 Let not my sister read it in your eye ; 
 
 Be not thy tongue thy own shame's orator ; 
 Look sweet, speak fair," become disloyalty ; 
 
 Apparel vice like virtue's harbintrer : 
 Bear a fair presence, though your heart be tainted ; 
 
 Teach sin the carriage of a holy saint ; 
 Be secret-false : What need she be acquainted ? 
 
 What simple thief brags of his own attaint ? 
 'Tis double wrong, to truant with your bed, 
 
 And let her read it in thy looks at board : 
 Shame hath a bastard fame, well managed ; 
 
 111 deeds are doubled with an evil word. 
 Alns, poor women ! make us but believe, 
 
 Being compact of credit, 6 that you love us ; 
 Though others have the arm, show us the sleeve ; 
 
 We in your motion turn, and you may move us. 
 Then, gentle brother, get you in again ; 
 
 Comfort my sister, cheer her ? call her wife : 
 'Tis holy sport to be a little vain,' 
 
 When" the sweet breath of flattery conquers strife. 
 
 Ant. S. Sweet mistress (what your name is else, 
 I know not, 
 
 Nor by what wonder you do hit on mine,) 
 Less, in your knowledge, and your grace, you show 
 not, 
 
 Than our earth's wonder ; more than earth divine. 
 Teach me, dear creature, how to think and speak ; 
 
 Lay open to my earthly gross conceit, 
 Smother'd in errors, feeble, shallow, wrak, 
 
 The folded meaning of your word's deceit. 
 Asrainst my soul's pure truth why labour vou, 
 
 To make it wander in an unknown field" ? 
 Are you a god ? would you create me new ? 
 
 Transform me then, and to your power I'll yield. 
 But if that I am I, then well I know, 
 
 Your weeping sister is no wife of mine, 
 Nor to her bed no homage do I owe ; 
 
 Far more, far more, to you do I decline. 
 0, train me not, sweet mermaid, 8 with thy note, 
 
 To drown me in thv sister's flood of tears ; 
 Sing, siren, for thyself, and I will dote : 
 
 (6J . e. Being made altogether of credulity. 
 
 (7) Vain, is light of tongue. (8) Mermaid for siren,
 
 Seen* //. 
 
 COMEDY OF ERRORS. 
 
 309 
 
 ' Dro. S. No, sir, 'tis in grain ; Noah's flood could 
 ;not do it. 
 
 int. S. What's her name ? 
 
 Spread o'er the silver waves thy golden hairs, 
 And as a bed I'll take thee, and there lie ; 
 
 And, in that glorious supposition, think 
 He gains by death, that hath such means to die : | Dro. S. Nell, sir; but her name and three 
 
 Let love,"being light, be drowned if she sink! ^quarters, that is, an ell and three quarters, will 
 
 Lite. What, are you mad, that you do reason so ? ( uot measure her from hip to hip. 
 
 Int. S. Not mad, but mated; 1 how, I do not ,-?;if. S. Then she bears some breadth? 
 
 know. 
 Lnc. It is a fault that springelh from your eye. 
 
 Int. S. For gazing on your beams, fair sun, 'find out countries in her. 
 
 Dro. S. No longer from head to' foot, than from 
 hip to hip: she is spherical, like a globe ; I could 
 
 being by. 
 Luc. Gaze where you should, and that will clear 
 
 ./Inf. H. As good to wink, sweet love, as look on 
 night. 
 
 Lite. Why call you me love ? call my sister so. 
 
 int. S. thy sister's sister. 
 
 Lc. That's my sister. 
 
 .in/. S. No 
 
 It is thyself, mine own self's better part ; 
 Mine eye's clear eye, sny dear heart's dearer heart 
 My food, my fortune, and my sweet hope's aim, 
 My sole earth's heaven, and my heaven's claim. 
 
 Lite. All this my sister is, or else should be. 
 
 .int. S. Call thyself sister, sweet, for I aim thee 
 Thee will I love, and with thee lead my life ; 
 Thou hast no husband yet, nor I no wife : 
 (jive me thy hand. 
 
 Luc. O, soft, sir, hold you still ; 
 
 I'll fetch my sister, to get her good will. 
 
 /. S. In what part of her body stands Ireland ? 
 Dm. S. Marry, sir, in her buttocks ; I found it 
 iout by the bo^s.' 
 
 Enter, from the Iioiise q/'Antipholus of Ephesus, 
 Dromio of Syracuse. 
 
 int. S. Where Scotland ? 
 
 Dro. S. I found it by the barrenness ; hard, in 
 the palm of the hand. 
 
 int. S. Where France ? 
 
 Dro., S. In her forehead ; arm'd and reverted, 
 making war against her hair. 
 
 int. S. Where England ? 
 
 Dro. S. I look'd for the chalk}' cliffs, but I could 
 ,find no whiteness in them : but I guess it stood in 
 j her chin, by the salt rljeum that ran between 
 'France and it. 
 
 int. S. Where Spain ? 
 
 Dro. S. Faith, I saw it not ; but I felt it, hot in 
 her breath. 
 
 int. S. Where America, the Indies ? 
 
 Dro. S. O, sir, upon her nose, all o'er embellish'd 
 with rubies, carbuncles, sapphires, declining their 
 [Exit Luciana. -rich aspect to the hot breath of Spain ; who sent 
 whole armadas of carracks 3 to be ballast at her nose. 
 
 int. S. Where stood Beigia, the Netherlands ? 
 
 Dro. .S. O, sir, I did not look so low. To con- 
 
 int. S. Why, how now, Dromio ? where runn'st 
 
 Ihou so fast ? 
 
 Dro. S. Do you know m, sir ? am I Dromio ? am 
 I your man ? am I myself .' 
 '.Int. S. Thou art" Dromio, Ihou art my man, 
 
 l.hou art thyself. 
 
 Di-o. S. I am an ass, I a:a a woman's man, and 
 besides mvself. 
 
 elude, this drudge, or diviner, laid claim to me ; 
 coll'd me Dromio; swore, I was assur'd* to her; 
 told me what privy marks I had about me, as the 
 mark of my shoulder, the mole in my neck, the 
 great v.art on roylcll ana, that I, amazed, ran 
 from her as a witch : and, I think, if my breast had 
 not been made of faith, and mv heart of steel, she 
 had transform'd me to a curtail-dog, and made me 
 
 .Int. S.'Whnt woman's man? and ho w besides ; tu >' i' t;:t ' v.-he*l. & 
 
 thvsclf ? '' Go, hie thee presently, post to the road ; 
 
 D/-o. S. Marry, sir, brsU! s nv.vlf, I am dueto :Aml il *-' ;e v >' i " il u! ? w a:i y "'ay "from shore, 
 a woman ; one that claims me, ona that haunts me, 1 1 v -'' !1 not harbour in this town to-night, 
 one that will have me. If p -". 7 "_ ar H P ut C? 1 ? come to the mart, 
 
 .Int. S. What claim lavs she to thee? 
 
 Dro. S. Marry, sir. surh cl lini as you would lay 
 to your horse ; and she would have me as a beast : 
 not that, I being a beast, s he would have me; but 
 
 Where I will walk, till thou return to me. 
 If every one know us, and we know none, 
 'Tis time, I think, to trudge, pack, and be prone. 
 Dro. K. As from a bear a man would run for life, 
 
 that she, being a verv beastly creature, lays claim i So flv I from her that would be my wife. [Exit. 
 to me> Jnt. S. I here's none but witches do inhabit here ; 
 
 .int. S. What is she ? 
 
 Dro. S. A very reverent body ; ay, such a one 
 
 And therefore, 'tis high time that I were hence. 
 She, that doth call me husband, even my soul 
 
 may riot speak of, without he say, sir ! Doth for a wife abhor : hut her.fair sister, 
 : I have but lean luck in tne match", an d:P ss ess'd with such a gentle sovereign grs 
 et is she a wondrons fat marriage. i Ot such enchanting presence and discour- 
 
 int. S. How dost thou mean,' a fat marriage ? jHath almost made me traitor to myself: 
 Dro. 8. Marry, sir, she's the kitchen- wench," and !But, lest myself be guilty to self-wrong, 
 
 all grease ; and I know not what use to put her to, 
 but to make a lamp of her, and run from her by 
 her own light. I warrant, her rags, and the tallow 
 in them, will burn a Poland winter: if she lives! 
 till doomsday, she'll burn a week longer than the'; 
 whole world. 
 
 int. S. What complexion is she of? 
 
 Dro. S. Swart, 2 like my shoe, but her face no- 
 thing like so clean kept j For why ? she sweats, a 
 man may go over shoes in the grime of it. 
 
 Jlnt. S. That's a fault that water will mend. 
 
 (1) t. e. Confounded. 
 (S) Large ships. 
 
 (2) Swarthy. 
 (4) Affianced. 
 
 I'll stop mine ears against the mermaid's song. 
 Enter Angelo. 
 
 .in%. Master Antipholus? 
 int. S. Ay, that's my name. 
 .1n%. I know it well, sir : Lo, here is the chain ; 
 I thought to have tn'en you at the Porcupine : 
 The chain unfinish'd made me stay thus lone. 
 int. S. What is your will, that I shall do with 
 
 this ? 
 
 ing. What please yourself, sir ; I have made 
 it for you. 
 
 (5) A turn-spit
 
 310 
 
 COMEDY OF ERRORS. 
 
 3d II. 
 
 Jlnt. S. Made it for me ; sir ? I bespoke it not. 
 
 Jlng. Not once, nor twice, but twenty times you 
 
 have : 
 
 Go home with it, and please your wife withal ; 
 And soon at supper-time I'll visit you, 
 And then receive my money for the chain. 
 
 Jlnt. S. I pray you, sir, receive the money no 
 For fear you ne'er see chain, nor money, more. 
 
 Jlng. You are a merry man, sir : fare you well. 
 
 [Exit. 
 
 Ant. S. What I should think of this, I cannot tell ; 
 But this I think, there's no man is so vain, 
 That would refuse so fair an offer'd chain. 
 I see, a man here needs not live by shifts, 
 When in the streets he meets such golden gifts. 
 I'll to the mart, and there for Dromio stay ; 
 If any ship put out, then straight away. [Exit. 
 
 ACT IV. 
 
 SCENE I. The sa;r,e. Enter a Merchant, An- 
 gclo, and an Officer. 
 
 Mer. You know, since Pentecost the sum is due, 
 And since I have not much importun'd you ; 
 Nor now I had not, but that I am bound 
 To Persia, and want guilders' for my voyage : 
 Therefore make present satisfaction, 
 Or I'll attach you by this officer. 
 
 Jlng. Even just the sum, that I do owe to you, 
 Is growing 2 to me by Antipholus : 
 And, in the instant that I met with you, 
 He had of me a chain ; at five o'clock, 
 I shall receive the money for the same: 
 Pleaseth you walk with me down lo his house, 
 I will discharge my bond, and thank you too. 
 
 Enter Antipholus of Ephesus, and Dromio of 
 Ephesus. 
 
 Off. That labour may you save ; see where he 
 comes. 
 
 Jlnt. E. While I go to the goldsmith's house, go 
 
 thou 
 
 And buy a rope's end ; that will I bestow 
 Among my wife and her confederates, 
 For locking me out of my doors by day. 
 But soft, I see the goldsmith : get thee gone ; 
 Buy tbou a rope, and bring it home to me. 
 
 t)ro. E. I buy a thousand pound a year ! I buy 
 a rope ! [Exit Dromio. 
 
 Jlnt. E. A man is well holp up, , that trusts to 
 
 you: 
 
 I promised your presence, and the chain ; 
 But neither chain, nor goldsmith, came to me : 
 Belike, you thought our love would last too long, 
 If it were chain'd together ; and therefore came not. 
 
 Jlng. Saving your merry humour, here's the note, 
 How much your chain weighs to the utmost carat ; 
 The fineness of the gold, and chargeful fashion ; 
 Which doth amount to three odd ducats more 
 Than I stand debted to this gentleman ; 
 I pray you, see him presently discharg'd, 
 For he is bound to sea, and stays but for it. 
 
 Jlnt. E. I am not furnish'd with the present 
 
 money ,* 
 
 Besides, I have some business in the town : 
 Good signior, take the stranger to my house, 
 And with you take (he chain, and bid my wife 
 Disburse the sum on the receipt thereof; 
 Perchance, I will 3 be there as soon as you. 
 
 (1) A coin. (2) Accruing, (3) I shall. 
 
 Jlng. Then you will bring the chain to her your- 
 self? 
 Jlnl. E. No ; bear it with you, lest I couie not 
 
 time enough. 
 Jlng. Well, sir, I will : Have you the chain about 
 
 you? 
 
 Jlnt. E. An if I have not, sir, I hope you have ; 
 Or else you may return without your money. 
 Jing. Nay, come, I pray^ou, sir, .give me the 
 
 chain : 
 
 Both wind and tide stays for this gentleman, 
 And I, to blame, have held him here too long. 
 -i)U. E. Good lord, you use this dalliance to 
 
 excuse 
 
 Your breach of promise lo the Porcupine : 
 I should have chid you for not bringing it, 
 But, like a shrew, you first begin to brawl. 
 Juer. The hour steals on ; I pray you, sir, des- 
 patch. 
 Jlng. You hear, how he importunes me ; the 
 
 chain 
 Jlnl. E. Why, give it to my wife, and fetch your 
 
 money. 
 Jlng. Come, come, you know, I gave it you 
 
 even now ; 
 
 Either send the chain, or send me by some token. 
 Jlnt. E. Fie ! now you run this humour out of 
 
 breath : 
 
 Come, where's the chain? I pray you let me see it. 
 Mir. My business cannot brook this dalliance ; 
 Good sir, say, whe'r you'll answer me, or no ; 
 If not, I'll leave him to the officer. 
 Jlni. E. I answer you! What should I answer 
 
 you ? 
 
 Jlng. The money, that you owe me for the chain. 
 Jlnt. E. I owe you none, (ill I receive the chain. 
 Jlng. You know, I gave it you half an hour since. 
 Jlnt. E. You gave me none ; you wrong me much 
 
 to say so. 
 
 Jlng. You wrong me more, sir, in denying it: 
 Consider, how it stands upon my credit. 
 J\Ier. Well, officer, arrest him at my suit. 
 Off. I do ; and charge you in the duke's name, 
 
 to obey me. 
 
 Jlng. This touches me in reputation : 
 Either consent to pay this sum for me, 
 Or I attach you by this officer. 
 
 Jlnt. E. Consent to pay thee that I never had' 
 Arrest me, foolish fellow, if thou dar'st. 
 
 Jlng. Here is thy fee ; arrest him, officer ; 
 [ would not spare my brother in this case, 
 [f he should scorn me so apparent!}'. 
 Off. I do arrest you, sir ; you hear the suit. 
 Jmt. E. I do obey thee, till I give thee bail : 
 But, sirrah, you shall buy this sport as dear 
 As all the metal in your shop will answer. 
 
 Jlng. Sir, sir, I shall have law in Ephcsus, 
 To J'our notorious shame, I doubt it not. 
 
 Enter Dromio of Syracuse. 
 
 Dro. S. Master, there is a bark of Epidamnum, 
 That stays but till her owner comes aboard, 
 And then, sir, bears away : our fraucrhtase, 4 sir, 
 [ have convey'd aboard ; and I have bought 
 The oil, the balsamum, and aqua-vitae. 
 The ship is in her trim ; the merry wind 
 Rlows fair from land : they stay for nought at all, 
 But for their owner, master, and yourself 1 . 
 
 Jlnt. E. How now? a madman! Why thou 
 
 peevish 5 sheep, 
 What ship of Epidamnum stays for me ? 
 
 Dro. S. A ship you scut me to, to hire waftagr.* 
 
 (4) Freight, cargo. (5) Silly. (C) Carriage.
 
 Scene II, HI. 
 
 COMEDY OF ERRORS. 
 
 311 
 
 Jlnt. E. Thou drunken slave, I sent thee for a 
 
 rope; 
 And told thee to what purpose and what end. 
 
 Dro. S. You sent me, sir, for a rope's end as 
 
 soon : 
 You sent me to the bay, sir, for a bark. 
 
 *1nt. E. I will debate this matter at more leisure, 
 And teach your cars to listen with more heed. 
 To Adriana, villain, hie thee straight: 
 Give her this key, and tell her, in the desk 
 That's cover'd o'er with Turkish tapestry, 
 There is a purse of ducats : let her send it ; 
 Tell her, I am arrested in the street, 
 And that shall bail me : hie thee, slave ; be gone. 
 On, officer, to prison till it come. 
 
 [Exeunt Mer. Ang. Off. and Ant. E. 
 
 Dro. S. To Adriana ! that is where he din'd, 
 Where Dowsabel did claim me for her husband : 
 She is too big;, I hope, for me to compass. 
 Thither I must, although against my will, 
 For servants must their masters' minds fulfil. [Ex. 
 
 SCENE II. The same. Enter Adriana and 
 
 Luciana. 
 Mr. Ah, Lnciana, did he tempt thee sc ? 
 
 Might's]; thou perceive austerely in his eye 
 That he did plead in earnest, yea or no ? 
 
 Look'd he or red, or pale ; or sad, or merrily ? 
 What observation mad'st thou in this case, 
 Of his heart's meteors tilting in his face ? ' 
 Luc. First, he denied you had in him no right. 
 Mr. He meant, he did me none ; the more my 
 
 spite. 
 
 Luc. Then swore he, that he was a stranger here. 
 Mr. And true he swore, though yet forsworn 
 
 he were. 
 
 Luc. Then pleaded I for you. 
 Mr. And what said he ? 
 
 Luc. That love I begg'd for you, he begg'd of me. 
 Mr. With what persuasion did he tempt thy 
 
 love? 
 Luc. With words, that in an honest suit might 
 
 move. 
 
 First he did praise my beauty ; then, my speech. 
 Mr. Did'st speak him fair ? 
 Luc. Have patience, I beseech. 
 
 Mr. I cannot, nor I will not, hold me still ; 
 My tongue, though not my heart, shall have his will. 
 He is deformed, cropked ; old, and sere, 2 
 Ilj-fac'd, worse-bodied, shapeless every where ; 
 Vicious, ungentle, foolish, blunt, unkind ; 
 Stigmatical in making, 3 worse in mind. 
 
 Luc. Who would be jealous then of such a one ? 
 No evil lost is wail'd when it is gone. 
 Mr. Ah ! but I think him better than I say/ 
 
 And yet would herein others' eyes were worse : 
 Far from her nest the lapwing cries away ;* 
 My heart prays for him, though my tongue do 
 curse. 
 
 Enter Droniio of Syracuse. 
 
 Dro. S. Here, go ; the desk, the purse ; sweet 
 
 now, make haste. 
 
 Luc. How hast thou lost thy breath ? 
 Dro. S. By running fast. 
 
 Mr. Where is thy master, Dromio? is he well V 
 Dro. S. No, he's in tartar limbo, worse than hell : 
 A devil in an everlasting garment hath him, 
 
 (1) An allusion to the redness of the northern 
 lights likened to the appearance of armies. 
 
 (2) Dry, withered. 
 
 (3) Marked by nature with deformity. 
 
 (4) Who crieth most where her nest is not. 
 
 One, whose hard heart is button'd up with steel; 
 A fiend, a fairy, pitiless and rough ; 
 A wolf, nay, worse, a fellow all in buff;* 
 A back-friend, a shoulder-clapper, one that coun- 
 termands 
 
 The passages of alleys, creeks, and narrow lands ; 
 A hound that runs counter, and yet draws dry-foot 
 
 well ; 
 One that, before the judgment, carries poor souls 
 
 to hell. 6 
 
 Mr. Why, man, what is the matter ? 
 Dro. S. I do not know the matter : he is 'rested 
 
 on the case. 
 
 Mr. What, is he arrested ? tell me, at whose suit. 
 Dro. S. I know not at whose suit he is arrested, 
 
 well ; 
 But he's in a suit of buff, which 'rested him, that 
 
 can I tell : 
 
 Will you send him, mistress, redemption, the mo- 
 ney in the desk ? 
 Mr. Go fetch it, sister. This I wonder at, 
 
 [Exit Luciana. 
 
 That he, unknown to me, should be in debt : 
 Tell me, was he arrested on a band ?' 
 
 Dro. >'. Not on a band, but on a stronger thing; 
 A chain, a chain ; do you not hear it ring ? 
 .Jrfr. What, the chain ? 
 Dro. S. No, no, the bell : 'tis time, that I were 
 
 gone. 
 It was two ere I left him, and now the clock strikes 
 
 one. 
 
 Mr. The hours come back ! that did I never hear. 
 Dro. S. yes, if any hour meet a sergeant, 
 
 a'turns back for very fear. 
 Mr. As if time were in debt ! how fondly dost 
 
 thou reason ! 
 Dro. S. Time is a very bankrupt, and owes more 
 
 than he's worth to season. 
 
 Nay, he's a thief too : Have you not heard men say, 
 That time comes stealing on by night and day? 
 If he be in debt, and theft, and a sergeant in the way, 
 Hath he not reason to turn back an hour in a day ? 
 
 Enter Luciana. 
 
 Mr. Go, Dromio ; there's the money, bear it 
 straight ; 
 
 And bring thy master home immediately. 
 Come, sister; 1 am press'd down with conceit ;* 
 
 Conceit, my comfort, and my injury. [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE III. The same. Enter Antipholus of 
 
 Syracuse. 
 *in<. S. There's not a man I meet, but doth 
 
 salute me 
 
 As if I were their well-acquainted friend ; 
 And every one doth call me by my name. 
 Some tender money to me, some invite me; 
 Some other give me thanks for kindnesses ; 
 Some ofier me commodities to buy: 
 Even now a tailor call'd me in his shop, 
 And show'd me silks that he had bought for me, 
 And, therewithal, took measure of my body. 
 Sure, these are but imaginary wiles, 
 And Lapland sorcerers inhabit here. 
 
 Enter Dromio of Syracuse. 
 Dro. S. Master, here's the gold you sent me for : 
 What, have you got the picture of old Adam new 
 
 apparell'd ? 
 
 (5) The officers in those days were clad in buff", 
 ivhich is also a cant expression for a man's skin, 
 
 (6) Hell was the cant term for prison. 
 
 (7) (. e. Bond. (8) Fanciful conception
 
 312 
 
 COMEDY OF ERRORS. 
 
 Ad 17. 
 
 Ant. S. What gold is this ? what Adam dost 
 thcu mean ? 
 
 Dro. S. Not that Adam, that kept the paradise, 
 but that Adam, that keeps the prison : he that goes 
 in the calf's-skin that was kill'd for the prodigal ; 
 he that came behind you. sir, like an evil angel, 
 and bid you forsake your liberty. 
 
 Ant. S. I understand thec not. 
 
 Dro. S. No ? why, 'tis a plain case: he that went 
 like a base-viol, in a case of leather ; the man, sir, 
 that, when gentlemen are tired, gives them a fob. 
 and 'rests them : he, sir ? that takes pity on decayed 
 men, and gives them suits of durance j he that sets 
 up his rest to do more exploits with his mace, than 
 a morris-pike. 
 
 Ant. S. What ! thou mean'st an officer ? 
 
 Dro. S. Ay, sir, the sergeant of the band ; he, 
 that brings any man to answer it, that breaks his 
 band : one that thinks a man always going to bed, 
 and says, God give you good rest. 
 
 Ant. S. Well, sir, there rest in your foolery. Is 
 there any ship puts forth to-night? may we be gone? 
 
 Dro. S. Why, sir, I brought you word an hour 
 since, that the bark Expedition put forth to-night ; 
 and then were you hindered by the sergeant, to 
 tarry for the hoy, Delay : Here are the angels that 
 you sent for, to deliver you. 
 
 Ant. S. The fellow is distract, and so am I ; 
 And here we wander in illusions ; 
 Some blessed power deliver us from hence ! 
 
 Enter a Courtezan. 
 
 Cour. Well met, well met, master Antipholus. 
 I see, sir, you have found the goldsmith now ; 
 Is that the chain, you promis'd me to-day ? 
 Ant. S. Satan, avoid ! I charge thee, tempt me 
 
 not! 
 
 Dro. S. Master, is this mistress Satan? 
 Ant. S. It is the devil. 
 
 Dro. S. Nay, she is worse, she is the devil's dam ; 
 and here she comes in the habit of a light wench ; 
 and thereof comes, that the wenches say, God 
 damn me, that's as much as to say, God make me 
 a light wench. It is written, they appear to men 
 like angels of light. : light is an effect of fire, and 
 fire will burn ; ergo, light wenches will burn ; 
 Come not near her. 
 
 Cour. Your man and you are marvellous merry, 
 
 sir. 
 
 Will you go with me? We'll mend our dinner here. 
 
 Dro. S. Master, if you do expect spoon-meat, 
 
 bespeak a long spoon. 
 
 Ant. S. Why, Dromio ? 
 
 Dro. S. Marrv, he must have a long spoon, 
 
 that must eat with the devil. 
 
 Ant. S. Avoid then, fiend ! what tell'st thou me 
 
 of supping ? 
 
 Thou art, as you are all, a sorceress : 
 I cdnjure thee to leave me, and be gone. 
 
 Cour. Give me the ring of mine you had at 
 
 dinner, 
 
 Or, for my diamond, the chain you promis'd ; 
 And I'll be gone, sir, and not trouble you. 
 Dro. S. Some devils ask but the paring of one's 
 
 nail. 
 
 A rush, a hair, a drop of blood, a pin, 
 A nut, a cherry-stone : but she, more covetous, 
 Would have a chain. 
 Master, be wise ; and if you give it her, 
 The devil will shake her chain, and frisrht us with it. 
 Cour. I pray you, sir, my ring, or else the chain ; 
 1 hope, you do not mean to cheat me so. 
 Ant. S. Avaunt, thou witch ' Come, Dromio, 
 let us go. 
 
 Dro. S. Fly pride, says the peacock : Mistress, 
 that you know. [Exeunt Ant. and Dro. 
 
 Cour. Now, out of doubt, Antipholus is mad, 
 Else would he never so demean himself: 
 A ring he hath of mine, worth forty ducats, 
 And for the same he promis'd me a chain ! 
 Both one, and other, he denies me now. 
 The reason that I gather he is mad, 
 (Besides this present instance of his rage,) 
 is a mad tale, he told to-day at dinner, 
 Of his own doors beinsf shut against his entrance. 
 Belike, his wife, acquainted with his fits, 
 On purpo_se shut the doors against his way. 
 My way is now, to hie home to his house, 
 And tell his wife, that, being lunatic, 
 He rush'd into my house, and took perforce 
 My ring away : This course I fittest choose ; 
 For forty ducats is too much to lose. [Exit. 
 
 SCENE IV. The same. Enter Antipholus oj 
 
 Ephesus, and an Officer. 
 
 Ant. E. Fear me not, man, I will not break away ; 
 I'll give thee, ere I leave thee, so much money 
 To warrant thee, as I am 'rested for. 
 My wife is in a wayward mood to-day ; 
 And will not lightly trust the messenger, 
 That I should fie attach'd in Ephesus : 
 I tell you, 'twill sound harshly in her ears. 
 
 Enter Dromio of Ephesus, with a rope's end. 
 
 Here comes my man ; I think, he brings the money. 
 How now, sir ? have you that I sent you for ? 
 
 Dro. E. Here's that, I warrant you, will pay 
 them all.' 
 
 Ant. E. But where's the money ? 
 
 Dro. E. Why, sir, I gave the money for the rope. 
 
 Ant. E. Five hundred d_ucats, villain, for a rope ? 
 
 Dro. E. I'll serve you, sir, five hundred at the rate. 
 
 Ant. E. To what end did I bid thee hie thee 
 home? 
 
 Dro. E. To a rope's end, sir ; and to that end 
 am I return'd. 
 
 Ant. E. And to that end, sir, I will welcome 
 you. [Beating him. 
 
 Off. Good sir, be patient. 
 
 Dro. E. Nay, 'tis for me to be patient ; I am 
 in adversity. 
 
 Off. Good now, hold thy tongue. 
 
 Dro. E. Nay, rather persuade him to hold his 
 hands. 
 
 Ant. E. Thou whoreson, senseless villain ! 
 
 Dro. E. I would I were senseless, sir, that I 
 misrht not feel your blows.' 
 
 Ant. E. Thou art sensible in nothing but blows, 
 and so is an ass. 
 
 Dro. E. I am an ass, indeed ; you may prove it 
 by my long ears. I have serv'd him from the hour 
 of nativity to this instant, and have nothing at his 
 hands for my service, but blows : when I am cold, 
 he heats me with beating : when I am warm, he 
 cools me with beating : I am waked with it, when 
 I sleep ; raised with it, when I sit ; driven out of 
 doors with it, when I go from home ; welcomed 
 home with it, when I return : nay, I bear it on my 
 shoulders, as a beggar wont her brat ; and, I think, 
 when he hath lamed me, I shall beg with it from 
 door to door. 
 
 Enter Adriana, Luciana, and the Courtezan, with 
 Pinch, and others. 
 
 Ant. E. Come, go along; my wife is coining 
 yonder. 
 
 (1) Correct them all.
 
 Scent IV. 
 
 COMEDY OF ERRORS. 
 
 Dro. E. Mistress, respict Jintm. respect your 
 end ; or rather the prophecy, like the parrot, Be- 
 ware the rope's end. 
 
 Ant. E. Wilt thou still talk ? [Beats him. 
 
 Cour. How say you now? is not your husband 
 
 mad? 
 
 Adr. His incivility confirms no less. 
 Good doctor Pinch, you are a conjurer ; 
 Establish him in his true sense again, 
 And I will please you what you will demand. 
 Luc. Alas, how'fiery and how sharp he looks ! 
 Cour. Mark, how he trembles in his ecstasy! 
 Pinch. Give me your hand, and let me feel your 
 
 pulse. 
 Ant. E. There is my hand, and let it feel your 
 
 ear. 
 Pinch. I charge thee, Satan, hous'd within this 
 
 man, 
 
 To yield possession to my holy prayers, 
 And to thy state of darkness hie thee straight ; 
 I c6njure thee by all the saints in heaven. 
 Ant. E. Peace, doting wizard, peace ; I am not 
 
 mad. 
 
 Adr. O, that thou wert not, poor distressed soul ! 
 Ant. E. You minion you, are these your cus- 
 tomers ? 
 
 Did this companion 1 with a saffron face 
 Revel and feast it at my house to-day, 
 Whilst upon me the guilty doors were shut, 
 And I denied to enter in my house ? 
 . Idr. O, husband, God doth know, you din'd at 
 
 home, 
 
 Where 'would you had remain'd until this tune, 
 Free from these slanders, and this open shame ! 
 Ant. E. I din'd at home! Thou villain, what 
 
 say'st thou ? 
 
 Dro. E. Sir, sooth to say, you did not dine at home. 
 Ant. E. Were not my doors lock'd up, and I 
 
 shut out? 
 Dro. E. Perdy, 2 your doors were lock'd, and 
 
 you shut out. 
 
 Ant. E. And did not she herself revile me there? 
 Dro. E. Sans fable, 3 she herself re vil'd you there. 
 Ant. E. Did not her Mtchen-maid rail, taunt, 
 
 and scorn me ? 
 Dro. E. Certes, 4 she did ; the kitchen-vestal 
 
 scorn'd you. 
 
 Ant. E. And did not I in rarre depart from thence? 
 Dro. E. In verity you did ; my bones bear 
 
 witness, 
 
 That since have felt the vigour of hi ; 
 Adr. Is't good to sooth him in these contraries ? 
 Pinch. It is no shame ; the fellow finds his vein, 
 And, yielding to him, humours well his frenzv. 
 Ant. E. Thou hast suborn'd the goldsmith to 
 
 arrest mo. 
 
 Adr. Alas, I sent you money to redeem you, 
 By Dromio here, who came in haste for it. 
 Dro. E. Money by me ? heart and good- will 
 
 you might, 
 
 But, surely, master, not a rag of money. 
 Ant. E. Went'st not thou to her for a purse of 
 
 ducats? 
 
 Adr. He came to me, and I deliver'd it. 
 Luc. And I am witness with her, that she did. 
 Dro. E. God and the rope- maker bear me 
 
 witness, 
 
 That I was sent for nothing but a rope ! 
 Pinch. Mistress, both man and master is pos- 
 sess'd ; 
 
 m Fellow. 
 
 (2) A corruption of the French oath par dieu, 
 
 f3) Without a fable. (4) Certainly. 
 
 [ know it by their pale and deadly looks : 
 
 They must be bound, and laid in some dark room. 
 
 Ant. E. Say, wherefore didst thou lock me forth 
 
 to-day, 
 And why dost thou deny the bag of gold ? 
 
 Adr. I did not, gentle husband, lock thee forth. 
 
 Dro. E. And, gentle master, I receiv'd no gold ; 
 But I confess, sir, that we were lock'd out. 
 
 Adr. Dissembling villain, thou spcak'st false in 
 both. 
 
 Ant. E. Dissembling harlot, thou art false in all ; 
 And art confederate with a damned pack, 
 To make a loathsome abject scorn of me : 
 But with these nails I'll pluck out these false eyes, 
 That would behold in me this shameful sport. 
 
 [Pinch and his assistants bind Ant. and Dro. 
 
 Idr. O, bind him, bind him, let him not come 
 near me. 
 
 Pinch. More company: the fiend is strong 
 within him. 
 
 Luc. Ah me, poor man, how pale and wan he 
 looks ! 
 
 Ant. E. What, will you murder me? Thou 
 
 gaoler, thou, 
 
 I am thy prisoner.; wilt thou suffer them 
 To make a rescue ? 
 
 Off". Masters, let him go ; 
 
 He is my prisoner, and you shall not have him. 
 
 Pinch. Go, bind this man, for he is frantic too. 
 
 Adr. What wilt thou do, thou peevish 1 officer? 
 Hast thou deli<rht to see a wretched man 
 Do outrage and displeasure to himself? 
 
 Off. He is my prisoner ; if I let him go, 
 The debt he owes will be requir'd of me. 
 
 Adr. I will discharge thee, ere I go from thee : 
 Bear me forthwith unto his creditor, 
 Arid, knowing how the debt grows, I will pay it. 
 Good master doctor, see him safe convey'd 
 Home to mv house. O r.io^t unhappy day ! 
 
 Anl. E. O most unhappy 6 strumpet ! 
 
 Dro. E. Master, I am here enter'd in bond for 
 you. 
 
 Ant. E. Out on thee, villain ! wherefore dost 
 thou mad me ? 
 
 Dro. E. Will you be bound for nothing? be mad, 
 Good master ; cry, the devil. 
 
 Luc. God helpj poor souls, how idly do they tajk. 
 
 Adr. Go, bear him hence. Sister, go you with 
 
 me. 
 
 [Exe. Pinch and assistants, with Ant. and Dro. 
 Say now, whose suit is he arrested at ? 
 
 Off. OneAngelo, agoldsmith; Doyouknowhim? 
 
 Adr. I know the man : What is the sum he owes ? 
 
 Off". Two hundred ducats. 
 
 Adr. Say, how grows it due ? 
 
 Off". Due for a chain, your husband had of him. 
 
 Adr. He did bespeak u chain for me, but had it 
 not. 
 
 Cow. When as your husband, all in rage, to-day 
 Came to my house, and took away mv ring, 
 (The ring I saw upon his finger now,) 
 Straisht after, did I meet him with a chain. 
 
 Adr. It may be so, but I did never see it : 
 Come, gaoler, bring me where the goldsmith is, 
 I long to know the truth hereof at large. 
 
 Enter Antipholus of Syracuse, with Aw rapier 
 draicn, and Dromio of Syracuse. 
 
 Luc. God, for thy mercy! they are loose again. 
 
 Adr. And come with naked swords ; let's call 
 more help, 
 
 (5) Foolish. 
 
 (6) Unhappy for unlucky, i. e. mischievous. 
 
 2R
 
 314 
 
 COMEDY OF ERRORS. 
 
 Act 7. 
 
 To have them bound again. I 
 
 Off. Away, they'll kill us. 
 
 [Exeunt Off. Adr. and! Luc. 
 
 Jlnt. S. I see, these witches are afraid of swords. 
 
 Dro. S. She, that would be your wife, now ran 
 
 from you. 
 Jlnt. S. Come to the Centaur ; fetch our stuff 1 
 
 from thence : 
 I long, that we were safe and sound aboard. 
 
 Dro. S. Faith, stay here this night, they will 
 surely do us no harm ; you saw, they speak us fair, 
 give us gold : methinks, they are such a gentle 
 nation, that, but for the mountain of mad flesh, that 
 claims marriage of me, I could find in my heart to 
 
 stay here still, and turn witch. 
 
 Jlnt. S. I will not stay to-night for all the town : 
 Therefore away, to get our stuff aboard. [Exe. 
 
 SCENE 
 
 ACT V. 
 
 I. The same. 
 
 Angelo. 
 
 Jlnff. I am sorry, sir, that I have hindcr'd you ; 
 But, I protest, he had the chain of me, 
 Though most dishonestly he doth deny it. 
 
 JVfer. How is the man esteem'd here in the city ? 
 
 Jlng. Of very reverend reputation, sir, 
 Of credit infinite, highly belov'd, 
 Second to none that lives here in the city_ ; 
 His word might bear my wealth at any time. 
 
 JVfer. Speak softly : yonder, as I think, he walks. 
 Enter Antipholus and Dromio of Syracuse. 
 
 Jlng. 'Tis so ; and that self chain about his neck, 
 Which he forswore, most monstrously, to have. 
 Good sir. draw near to me, I'll speak to him. 
 Signior Antipholus, I wonder much 
 That you would put me to this shame and trouble ; 
 And not without some scandal to yourself, 
 With circumstance, and oaths, so'to deny 
 This chain, which now you wear so openly : 
 Besides the charge, the shame, imprisonment, 
 You have done wrong to this my honest friend ; 
 Who, but for staying on our controversy, 
 Had hoisted sail, and put to sea to-day : 
 This chain you had of me, can you deny it ? 
 
 Jlnt . S. I think, I had ; I never did deny it. 
 
 Mer. Yes, that you did, sir ; and forswore it too. 
 
 Jlnt. S. Who heard me to deny it, or forswear it ? 
 
 JVfer. These ears of mine, thou knowest, did 
 
 hear thee : 
 
 Fie on thee, wretch ! 'tis pity, that thou liv'st 
 To walk where any honest men resort. 
 
 Jlnt. S. Thou art a villain, to impeach me thus : 
 I'll prove mine honour, and mine honesty, 
 Against thee presently, if thou dar'st stand. 
 
 Mer. I dare, and do defy thee for a villain. 
 
 [They draw. 
 
 Enter Adriana, Luciana, Courtezan, and others. 
 
 Jldr. Hold, hurt him not, for God's sake ; he is 
 
 mad: 
 
 Rome get within him, 2 take his sword away: 
 Bind Dromio too, and bear them to my house. 
 Dro. S. Run, master, run ; for God's sake, take 
 
 a house. 3 
 This is some priory ; In, or we are spoil'd. 
 
 [Exeunt Ant. and Dro. (o the priory. 
 
 frbb. Hath he not lost much wealth by wreck at 
 
 sea? 
 
 Bury'd some dear friend ? Hath not else his eye 
 Stray'd his affection in unlawful love ? 
 A sin, prevailing much in youthful men, 
 Who give their eyes the liberty of gazing. 
 Which of these sorrows is he subject to ? 
 
 Jldr. To none of these, except it be the last : 
 Enter Merchant and Namely, some, love, that drew him oft from home. 
 
 Jlbb. You should for that have reprehended him. 
 
 Jldr. Why, so I did. 
 
 Jlbb. Ay, but not rough enough. 
 
 Jldr. As roughly, as my modesty would let me. 
 
 .466. Haply, in private. 
 
 Jldr. And in assemblies too. 
 
 Jlbb. Ay, but not enough. 
 
 Jldr. It was the copy 1 of our conference : 
 In bed, he slept not for my urging it : 
 At board, he led not for my urging it : 
 
 gage. (2) t. e. Close, grapple with him. (3) t. c. Go into a house. 
 
 Enter the Abbess. 
 Jlbb. Be quiet, people ; Wherefore throng you 
 
 hither? 
 
 Jldr. To fetch my poor distracted husband hence ; 
 Let us come in, that we may bind him fast, 
 And bear him home for his recovery. 
 Jlng. I knew, he was not in his perfect wits. 
 Mer. I am sorry now, that I did draw on him. 
 Jlbb. How long hath this possession held the 
 
 man ? 
 
 Jldr. This week he hath been heavy, sour, sad, 
 And much, much different from the man he was ; 
 But, till this afternoon, his passion 
 Ne'er brake into extremity of rage. 
 
 Alone, it was the subject of my theme ; 
 
 In company, I often glanced it ; 
 
 Still did I tell him it was vile and bad. 
 
 Abb. And thereof came it, that the man was mad : 
 The venom clamours of a jealous woman 
 Poison more deadly than a mad dog's tooth. 
 It seems his sleeps were hindered by thy railing ; 
 And thereof comes it that his head is light. 
 Thou say'st his meat was sauc'd with thy upbraid- 
 
 ings : 
 
 Unquiet meals make ill digestions, 
 Thereof the raging fire of fever bred ; 
 And what's a fever but a fit of madness ? 
 Thou say'st, his sports were hinder'd by thy brawls : 
 Sweet recreation barr'd, what doth ensue, 
 But moody and dull melancholy, 
 (Kinsman to grim and comfortless despair ;) 
 And, at her heels, a huge infectious troop 
 Of pale distemperatures, and foes to life ? 
 In food, in sport, and life-preserving rest, 
 To be disturb'd, would mad or man, or beast ; 
 The consequence is then, thy jealous fits 
 Have scared thy husband from the use of wits. 
 
 Luc. She never reprehended him but mildly, 
 When he demeaned himself rough, rude, and 
 
 wildly. 
 Why bear you these rebukes, and answer not? 
 
 Jldr. She did betray me to my own reproof. 
 Good people, enter, and lay hold on him. 
 
 Jlbb. No, not a creature enters in my house. 
 
 Jldr. Then, let your servants bring my husband 
 forth. 
 
 .#66. Neither ; he took this place for sanctuary, 
 And it shall privilege him from your hands, 
 Till I have brought mm to his wits again, 
 Or lose my labour in assaying it. 
 
 Jldr. I will attend my husband, be his nurse, 
 Diet his sickness, for it is my office, 
 And will have no attorney but myself; 
 
 (4) Theme,
 
 Scene 7. 
 
 COMEDY OF ERRORS. 
 
 315 
 
 And therefore let me have him home with me. | 
 
 .i66. Be patient ; for I will not let him stir, 
 Till I have us'd the approved means I have, 
 With wholesome syrups, drugs, and holy prayers, 
 To make of him a formal man again : ' 
 It is a branch and parcel- of mine oath, 
 A charitable duty of my order ; 
 Therefore depart, and leave him here with me. 
 
 Mr. I will not hence and leave my husband 
 
 here ; 
 
 And ill doth it beseem your holiness. 
 To separate the husband and the wii'e. 
 
 .i6&. Be quiet and depart, thou shalt not have 
 him. [Exit Abbess. 
 
 Luc. Complain unto the duke of this indignity. 
 
 Mr. Come, go ; I will fall prostrate at his feet, 
 And never rise until my tears and prayers 
 Have won his grace to come in person hither, 
 And take perforce my husband from the abbess. 
 
 Ver. By this, I think, the dial points at five : 
 Anon, I am sure, the duke himself in person 
 Comes this way to the melancholy vale, 
 The place of death and sorry 3 execution, 
 Behind the ditches of the abbey here. 
 
 ''Ing. Upon what cause? 
 
 .Ver. To see a reverend Syracusan merchant, 
 Who put unluckily into this bay 
 Against the laws and statutes of this town, 
 Beheaded publicly for his offence. 
 
 .ing. See, where they come ; we will behold his 
 death. 
 
 Luc. Kneel to the duke, before he pass the abbey. 
 
 Enter Duke attended; .Egeon bare-headed; with 
 the Headsman and other officers. 
 
 Duke. Yet once again proclaim it publicly, 
 If any friend will pay the sum for him, 
 He shall not die, so much we tender him. 
 
 Mr. Justice, most sacred duke, against the 
 abbess'! 
 
 Duke. She is a virtuous and a reverend lady ; 
 It cannot be, that she hath done thee wroner. 
 
 Mr. May it please your grace, Antipholus, my 
 
 husband, 
 
 Whom I made lord of me and all I had, 
 At your important 4 letters, this ill day 
 A most outrageous fit of madness took him ; 
 That desperately he hurried through the street 
 (With him his bondman, all as mad as lie,) 
 Doing displeasure to the citizens 
 By rushing in their houses, bearinor thence 
 Rmgs, jewels, any thing his rage did like. 
 Once did I get him bound, and sent him home, 
 Whilst to take order* for the wrongs I wen;. 
 That here and there his fury had committed. 
 Anon, I wot s not by what strong escape, 
 He broke from those that had the guard of him ; 
 And, with his mad attendant and himself, 
 Each one with ireful passion, with drawn swords, 
 Met us again, and, madly bent on us, 
 Chas'd us away; till raising of more aid, 
 We came again to bind them : then they fled 
 Into this abbey, whither we pursued them ; 
 And here the abbess shuts the gates on us, 
 And will not suffer us to fetch him out, 
 Nor send him forth, that we may bear him hence. 
 Therefore, most gracious duke, with thy command, 
 Let him be brought forth, and borne hence for 
 help. 
 
 (1) f. e. To bring him back to his senses. 
 (-2) Part. (3) Sad. (4) Importunate. 
 (5) r. e. To take measures. (6) Know. 
 
 (7) t. e. Successively, one after another. 
 
 Duke. Long since, thy husband serr'd me in 
 
 my wars ; 
 
 And I to thee engag'd a prince's word, 
 \Vhen thou didst make him master of thy bed, 
 To do him all the p-race and good I could. 
 Go, some of you, knock at the abbey-gate, 
 And bid the lady abbess come to me ; 
 I will determine this, before I stir. 
 
 Enter a Servant. 
 
 Serv. O mistress, mistress, shiftand save yourself! 
 My master and his man are both broken loose, 
 Beaten the maids a-row,' and bound the doctor, 
 Whose beard they have singed off with brands of 
 
 fire ; 
 
 And ever us it blazed, they threw on him 
 Great pails of puddled mire to quench the hair ; 
 My master preaches patience to him, while 
 His man with scissars nicks 8 him like a fool : 
 And, sure, unless you send some present help, 
 Between them they will kill the conjurer. 
 
 Mr. Peace, fool, thy master and his man are 
 
 here ; 
 And that is false thou dost report to us. 
 
 Sen: Mistress, upon my life, I tell you true ; 
 [ have not breath'd almost, since I did see it. 
 He cries for you, and vows, if he can take you, 
 To scorch your face, and to disfigure you : 
 
 \ Cry within. 
 Hark, hark, I hear him, mistress ; fly, be gone. 
 
 Duke. Come, stand by me, fear nothing: Guard 
 with halberds. 
 
 Mr. Ah me, it is my husband ! Witness you, 
 That he is borne about invisible : 
 Even now we hous'd him in the abbey here ; 
 And now he's there, past thought of human reason. 
 
 Enter Antipholus and Dromio ofEphesus. 
 
 nt. E. Justice, most gracious duke, oh, grant 
 
 me justice ! 
 
 Even for the service that long since I did thee, 
 When I bestrid thee in the wars, and took 
 Deep scars to save thy life ; even for the blood 
 That then I lost for thee, now grant me justice. 
 
 JEge. Unless the fear of death doth make me dote, 
 I see my son Antipholus and Dromio. 
 .Int. E. Justice, sweet prince, against that 
 
 woman there. 
 
 She whom thou gav'st to me to be my wife ; 
 That hath abused and dishonour'd me, 
 Even in the strength and height of injury ! 
 Beyond imagination is the wrong, 
 That she this day hath shameless thrown on me. 
 Duke. Discover how, and thou shalt find me just, 
 .inf. E. This day, great duke, she shut the doors 
 
 upon me, 
 
 While she with harlots 3 feasted in my house. 
 Duke. A grievous fault : Say, woman, didst 
 
 thou so ? 
 Mr. No, my; good lord ; myself, he, and my 
 
 sister, 
 
 To-day did dine together : So befall my soul, 
 As this is false, he burdens me withal ! 
 
 Luc. Ne'er may I look on day, nor sleep on night, 
 But she tells to your highness simple truth ! 
 MS. O perjur'd woman ! They are both for- 
 sworn, 
 
 In this the madman justly chargeth them. 
 *1nt. E. My liege, I am advised what I say ; 
 
 (8) i. e. Cuts his hair closo. 
 
 (9) Harlot was a term of reproach applied to 
 cheats among men as well as to wantons among 
 
 iwoincn.
 
 316 
 
 COMEDY OF ERRORS. 
 
 Act V. 
 
 Neither disturb'd with the effect of wine, 
 Nor heady-rash, provok'd with raging ire, 
 Albeit, my wrongs might make one wiser mad. 
 This woman lock'd me out this day from dinner : 
 That goldsmith there, were he not pack'd with her, 
 Could witness it, for hz was with me then ; 
 Who parted with me to go fetch a chain, 
 Promising to bring it to the Porcupine, 
 Where Balthazar and I did dine together. 
 Our dinner done, and he not coming thither, 
 I went to seek him : in the street I met him ; 
 And in his company, that gentleman. 
 There did this perjur'd goldsmith swear me 
 
 down, 
 
 That I this day of him recciv'd the chain, 
 Which, God he knows, I saw not: for the which, 
 He did arrest me with all officer. 
 I did obey ; and sent my peasant home 
 For certain ducats : ho with nons return'd. 
 Then fairly I bespoke the officer, 
 To po in person with me to my house. 
 -By the way we met 
 My wife, her sister, awl a rabble more 
 Of vile confederates ; along with them 
 They brought one Pinch ; a hungry lean-fac'd vil- 
 lain, 
 
 A mere anatomy, a mountebank, 
 A thread-hare juggler, and a fortune-teller ; 
 A needy, hollo w-ey'd, sharp-looking wretch, 
 A living dead man : this pernicious slave, 
 Forsooth, took on him as a conjuror ; 
 And, grazing in mine eyes, feeling my pulse, 
 And with no face, as 'twere, outfacing me, 
 Cries out, I was possess'd : then all together 
 They fell upon me, bound mo, bore, me thence ; 
 And in a dark and dankish vault at home 
 There left me and my man, both bound together ; 
 Till, gnawing with my teeth my bonds in sunder, 
 
 I gain'd my freedom, and immediately 
 
 I 1 an hither to your grace ; whom I beseech 
 To give me ample satisfaction 
 
 For these deep shames and rrreat indignities. 
 .2/i;. My lord, in truth, thus far I witness with 
 him ; 
 
 That he dined not at home, but was lock'd out. 
 
 Duke. But had he sti6h a chain of thes, or no ? 
 
 .Ing. He had, my lord ; anil when he ran in hero, 
 These people saw the chain about his neck. 
 
 ..Her. Besides, I will ba sworn, these ears ofi Thou sham 
 
 Duke. Why, this is strange : Go call the abbess 
 
 hither ; 
 I tlu'nk you are all mated, 1 or stark mad. 
 
 [Exit an attendant. 
 
 JEge. Most mighty duke, vouchsafe me speak 
 
 a word ; 
 
 Haply I see a friend will save my life, 
 And pay the sum that will deliver me. 
 
 D'.ike. Speak freely, Syracusan, what thou wilt. 
 
 JE.!*e. Is not your name, sir, cali'd Antipholus ? 
 And is not that your bondman Dromio ? 
 
 Dro. E. Within this hour I was his bondman, sir, 
 But he, I thank him, gnaw'd in two my cords ; 
 Now am I Dromio, and his man, unbound. 
 
 JEge. I am sure, you both of you remember me. 
 
 Dro. E. Ourselves we do remember, sir, by you ; 
 For lately we were bound as you are now. 
 You are not Pinch's patient, are you, sir ? 
 
 JEge. Why look you strange on me ? you know 
 me well. 
 
 tint. E. I never saw you in my life, till now. 
 
 JEge. Oh ! grief hath chang'd me, since you 
 
 saw me last ; 
 
 And careful hours, with Time's deformed hand, 
 Have written strange defcature's 2 in my face : 
 But tell me yet, dost thou not know my voice ? 
 
 dnt. E. Neither. 
 
 JEge. Dromio, nor thou ? 
 
 Dro. E. No, trust me, sir, nor I. 
 
 JEge. I am sure, thou dost. 
 
 Dro. E. Ay, sir? but I am sure, I do not ; and 
 whatsoever a man denies, you arc now bound to 
 believe him. 
 
 JEgs. Not know my voice ! O, time's extremity ! 
 Hast thou so crack'd and splitted my poor tongue, 
 In seven short years, that here my only son 
 Knows not my feeble key of untun'd cares ? 
 Though now this grained 3 face of mine be hid 
 !n sap-consuming winter's drizzled snow, 
 And all the conduits of my blood froze up ; 
 Yet hath my night of life some memory, 
 My wasting lamp some fading glimmer left, 
 My dull deaf ears a little, use to hear : 
 
 All these old witnesses (I cannot err,) 
 Tell me. thou art my son Antipholus. 
 Jini. E. I never saw my father in mv life. 
 
 Heard you confess you had the chain of him, 
 After you first forswore it on the mar*, 
 And, thereupon. I drew mv sword on you ; 
 And then, you fled info Ihis abbey here, 
 From whence, I think, you are come by miracle. 
 
 .1nt. E. I never c;:me within these abbey walls, 
 Nor ever didst thou draw thy sword on me : 
 I never saw the chain, so help me heaven ! 
 And this is false, you burden me withal. 
 
 ])uke. Why, what an intricate impeach is this ! 
 I think, you all have drank of Circe's cup. 
 If here you hous'd him, here he would have been ; 
 If he were mad, he would not plead so coldly : 
 You say, he dined at home ; the goldsmith here 
 Denies that savins: : Sirrah, what say you? 
 
 Dro. E. Sir. ho dined with her there, at the 
 Porcupine. 
 
 Cour. He did ; and from my finger snatch'd 
 that ring. 
 
 ilnt. E. 'Tis true, my liege, this ring I had of her. 
 
 Duke. Saw'st thou him enter at the abbey here ? 
 
 Cour. As sure, my liege, as I do see your grace. 
 
 (1) Confounded. (2) Alteration of features. 
 
 J%t. But seven years since, in Syracusa, bov, 
 Thou know's* , we parted : but, perhaps, my soil, 
 Thou sham'st to acknowledge me in misery. 
 
 ./inf. E. The duke, and all that know me in the 
 
 city, 
 
 Can witness with me that it i.s not so ; 
 I ne'er saw Svracusa in r.iy life. 
 
 Duke.. I (ell thee, Syracusan, twenty years 
 Have I been patron to Antipholus. 
 During which time he ne'er saw Syracusa : 
 I sec, thy uje and dangers make thee dote. 
 
 Enter the ilbbesx, with Antipholus Syracusan, and 
 Dromio Syracusan. 
 
 Mb. Most mighty duke, behold a man much 
 Wrong'd, [All gather to see him. 
 
 Idr. I see two husbands, or mine eyes deceive me. 
 
 Duke. One of these men is Genius to the other ; 
 And so of these : \Vhich is the natural man, 
 And which the spirit ? Who deciphers them ? 
 
 Dro. S. I, sir, am Dromio ; command him away. 
 
 Dro. E. I, sir, am Dromio ; pray, let me stay. 
 
 .Int. S. ./Egeon, art thou not ? or else his ghost ? 
 
 Dro. S. O, my old master ! who hath bound him 
 here? 
 
 Mb. Whoever bound him, I will loose his bonds, 
 
 (3) Furrowed, lined.
 
 Seen* /. 
 
 COMEDY OF ERRORS. 
 
 317 
 
 And gain a husband by his liberty : 
 Speak, old /Egeon, if thou be'st the m* 
 That had'st a wife once call'd Emilia, 
 That bore thee at a burden two fair son t 
 
 0, if thou be'st the same JEgepn, speak 
 And speak unto the same ^Emilia ! 
 
 ..Eire. If I dream not, thou art /Emili 4; 
 If thou art she, tell me, where is that son 
 That floated with thee on the fatal raft ? 
 
 .466. By men of Epidamnum, he, and I, 
 And the twin Dromio, all were taken up ; 
 But, by and by rude fishermen of Corinth 
 By force took Dromio and my son from them, 
 And me they left with those of Epidamnum ; 
 What then became of them, I cannot tell : 
 
 1, to this fortune that you see me in. 
 
 Duke. Why, here begins his morning story right ; ' 
 These two Antipholus's, these two so like, 
 And these two Dromio's, one in semblance, 
 Besides her urging of her wreck at sea s 
 These are the parents to these children- 
 Which accidentally are met tosrether. 
 Antipholus, thou cam'st from Corinth I ret. 
 
 .int. H. No, sir, not I ; I came from : Syracuse. 
 
 Duke. Stay, stand apart ! I know i ot which is 
 which. 
 
 mint. E. I came from Corinth, my mi Jt gracious 
 lord. 
 
 Dro. E. And I with him. 
 
 tint. E. Brought to this town with that most 
 
 famous warrior 
 Duke Menaphon, your most renowned uncle. 
 
 Mr. Which of you two did dine with me to day ? 
 
 ./lit. S. I, gentle mistress. 
 
 midr. And arc not you my husband ? 
 
 mint. E. No, I say nay to that. 
 
 .in/. S. And so UD I. yet did she call me so ; 
 And this fair gentlewoman, her sister here, 
 Did call me hro'.her: What I told yoa then, 
 I hope, I shall have leisure to make" good ; 
 If this be not a. dream, I see, and Iv 
 
 ming. That is the chain, fir, which you hid of me. 
 
 mint. S. I think it be, sir ; I deny it not. 
 
 .int. E. And you, sir, for this chain arrested me. 
 
 mine:. I think 1 did, sir ; I deny it not. 
 
 .Mr. I sent you money, sir, to be your bail, 
 By Dromio ; but I think he brought it not. 
 
 Dro. E. No, none by me. 
 
 mint. S. This purse of ducats I receiv'd from you, 
 And Dromio my man did bring them me : 
 I see, we still did meet each other's man, 
 And I was ta'en for him. and he for me, 
 And thereupon these Errors are arose. 
 
 mint. E. These ducats pawn I for my father here. 
 
 And all that are assembled in this place, 
 That by this sympathized one day's error 
 Have suffer'd wrong, po, keep us company, 
 And we shall make lull satisfaction. 
 Twenty-five years have I but gone in travail 
 Of you, my sons ; nor, till this present hour, 
 My heavy ourdens are deliver'd : 
 The duke, my husband, and my children both, 
 And you the calendars of their nativity, 
 Go to" a gossip's feast, and go with me ; 
 After solcng grief, such nativity ! 
 Duke. With all my heart, I'll gossip at this feast. 
 [Exeunt Duke, Abbess, .Sigeon, Courtezan, 
 
 Merchant, Antrelo, and attendants. 
 Dro. S. Master, shall I fetch your stuff from 
 shipboard ? 
 ..int. E. Dromio, what stuff of mine hast thou 
 
 cmbarkM ? 
 Dro. S. Your goods, that lay at host, sir, in the 
 
 Centaur. 
 mint. S. He speaks to me ; I am your master, 
 
 Dro_mio : 
 
 Come, go with us : we'll look to that anon : 
 Embrace thy brother there, rejoice with him. 
 
 [Exev'nt Antipholus S. and E. Adr. and Luc. 
 Z>ro. S. There is a fat friend at your master's 
 
 house, 
 
 That kitchen'd me for you to-day at dinner ; 
 She now shall be my s'ister, not my wife. 
 Dro. E. Methinks, you are my glass, and not 
 
 my brother : 
 
 I sec by you, I am a sweet-faced youth. 
 Will you waik in to see their gossiping ? 
 Dro. S. Not I, sir ; you are my elder. 
 Dro. E. That's a question : how shall we try it ? 
 Dro. S. We will draw cuts for the senior : till 
 then, lead thou first. 
 
 Dro. E. Nay, then thus : 
 
 We came into the world, like brother and brother ; 
 
 And now let's go hand in hand, not one before 
 
 ano:' . [Exeunt. 
 
 On a careful revision of the foregoing scenes, I 
 do not hesitate to pronounce them the composition 
 of two very unequal writers. Shakspeare had un- 
 doubtedly a share in them ; but that the entire play 
 was no work of his, is an opinion which (as Bene- 
 dict says) 'fire cannot melt out of me ; I will die in 
 it at the stake.' Thus, as we are informed by Aulus 
 Gellius, Lib. III. Cap. 3. some plays were abso- 
 lutely ascribed to Plautus, which in truth had only 
 been (retractala et expolita) retouched and polish- 
 
 ed by him. 
 
 In'this comedy we find more intricacy of plot 
 
 Duke. It shall not need, thy father hath his life. 
 
 Coir. Sir, I must have that diamond from you. _, .._ , _. ,__. 
 
 mint. E. There, take it; and much thanks for|than distinction of character; and our attention is 
 my good cheer. less forcibly engaged, because we can guess in great 
 
 .966. Renowned duke, vouchsafe to take the pains measure how the denouement will be brought 
 To go with us into the abbey here, 
 And hear at large discoursed all our fortunes : 
 
 about. Yet the subject appears to have been 
 reluctantly dismissed, even in this last and unne- 
 cessary scpne ; where the same mistakes are con- 
 
 (1) The morning story is what JEgeon teUftr-S tinued, till the power of affording entertainment 
 duke in the first scene of this olav jis entirely lost. STEEVENS.
 
 ( 318 ) 
 
 MACBETH. 
 
 PERSONS REPRESENTED. 
 
 Duncan, king of Scotland. 
 Malcolm, > . . 
 Donalbain, $ hi3 so " s ' 
 
 noblemenofScotland. 
 
 Macdun, 
 
 Lenox, 
 
 Rosse, 
 
 Menteth, 
 
 Angus, 
 
 Cathness, 
 
 Fleance, son to Banquo. 
 
 Siward, earl of Northumberland, general 
 
 English forcts. 
 Young Siward, his son. 
 Seyton, an officer attending on Macbeth. 
 Son to Macdiiff". 
 
 \Jn English Doctor. A Scotch Doctor. 
 '.1 Soldier. Jl Porter. Jin old Man. 
 
 Lady Macbeth. 
 
 Laiiii Macdutt. 
 
 Gentlewoman attending on laity Macbeth. 
 
 Hecale, and three Witches. 
 
 Lords, Gentlemen, Officers, Soldiers, Murderers, 
 
 Jllttndnnts, and Messengers. 
 
 Ths Ghost cf Banquo, and several other Jlppari- 
 
 tions. 
 
 I Scene, in the end of the. fourth act, ties in Eng-' 
 i land; through the rest of the play, in Scotland, 
 \ and, chiefly, at Macbeth's castle. 
 
 ACT I. 
 
 SCENE I. Jin open place. Thunder and Light- 
 ning. Enter three Witches. 
 
 1 Witch. 
 
 \ V HEN shall we three meet again 
 In thunder, lightning, or in rain ) 
 
 2 Witch. When the hurlyburly's 1 done, 
 When the battle's lost and won." 
 
 3 Witch. That will be ere set of sun. 
 
 1 Witch. Where the place ? 
 
 2 Witch. Upon the heath. 
 
 3 Witch. There to meet with Macbeth. 
 1 Witch. I come, Graymalkin ! 
 
 Jill. Paddock calls : Anon. 
 Fair is foul, and foul is fair : 
 Hover through the fog and filthy air. 
 
 [Witches vanish. 
 
 SCEJVE II. 4 Camp near Fores. Marum with- 
 in. Enter Kins; Duncan, Malcolm, Donalbain, 
 Lenox, with attendants, meeting a bleeding Sol- 
 dier. 
 
 Dun. What bloody man is that ? He can report, 
 As seemeth by his plight, of the revolt 
 The newest state. 
 
 Mai. This is the sergeant, 
 
 Who, like a pood and hardy soldier, fought 
 
 'Gainst my captivity : Hail, brave friend ! 
 
 Say to the' king the knowledge of the broil, 
 As thou didst leave it. 
 
 Sold. Doubtfully it stood ; 
 
 As two spent swimmers, that do cling together, 
 And choke their art. The merciless Macdonwald 
 (Worthy to be a rebel 5 for, to that, 
 The multiplying villames of nature 
 
 m Tumult. 
 
 (2) t. e. Supplied with light and heavy-armed 
 troops. 
 
 (3) Cause. (4) The opposite to comfort. 
 
 Do swarm upon him,) from the western isles 
 Of Kernes and Gallowglasses is supplied : 2 
 And fortune, on his damned quarrel 3 smiling, 
 Show'd like a rebel's whore : But all's too weak : 
 For brave Macbeth (well he deserves that name,) 
 Disdaining fortune, with his brandish'd steel, 
 Which smok'd with bloody execution, 
 Like valour's minion, 
 
 Carv'd out his passage, till he fac'd the slave ; 
 And ne'er shook hands, nor bade farewell to him, 
 Till he unseam'd him from the nave to the chaps, 
 And fix'd his head upon our battlements. 
 
 Dim. O, valiant cousin ! worthy gentleman ! 
 
 Sold. As whence the sun 'gins his reflexion 
 Shipwrecking storms and direful thunders break ; 
 So from that spring, whence comfort seem'd to come, 
 Discomfort* swells. Mark, king of Scotland, mark : 
 No sooner justice had, with valour arm'd, 
 Compell'd these skipping Kernes to trust their heels : 
 But the Norweyan lord, surveying vantage, 
 With fiirbish'd arms, and new supplies of men, 
 Began a fresh assault. 
 
 Dun. Dismay'd not this 
 
 Our captains, Macbeth and Banquo? 
 
 Sold. Yes ; 
 
 As sparrows, eagles; or the hare, the lion. 
 If I say sooth, 5 1 must report they were 
 As cannons overcharg'd with double cracks ; 
 So they 
 
 Doubly redoubled strokes upon the foe : 
 Except they meant to bathe in reeking wounds, 
 Or memorize another Golgotha, 6 
 
 I cannot tell : 
 
 But I am faint, my gashes cry for help. 
 
 Dun. So well thy words become thee, as thy 
 
 wounds ; 
 
 They smack of honour both : Go, get him sur- 
 geons. [Exit Soldier, attended. 
 
 (5) Truth. 
 
 (6) 
 
 first. 
 
 Make another Golgotha as memorable as the
 
 MACBETH. 
 Act HI. Scene 4, 
 
 KING JOHN. 
 Act f/f.Xcene 4.
 
 Scent 111. 
 
 MACBETH. 
 
 319 
 
 Enter Rosse. 
 
 Who comes here ? 
 
 Md. The worthy thane of Rosse. 
 
 Len, What a haste looks through his eyes ! So 
 
 should he look, 
 That seems to speak things strange. 
 
 Rosse. God save the king ! 
 
 Z>wi. Whence cam'st thou, worthy thane ? 
 
 Rosse. From Fife, great king, 
 
 Where the Nonveyan banners flout 1 the sky, 
 And fan our people cold. 
 Norway himself, with terrible numbers, 
 Assisted by that most disloyal traitor 
 The thane of Cawdor, 'gan a dismal conflict: 
 Till that Bellona's bridegroom, 2 lapp'd in proof, 3 
 Confronted him with self-comparisons, 
 Point againt point rebellious, arm 'gainst arm, 
 Curbing his lavish spirit : And, to conclude, 
 The victory fell on us ; 
 
 Dun. Great happiness ! 
 
 Rosse. That now 
 
 Swenc, the Norways' kin?, craves composition ; 
 Nor would we deign him burial of his men, 
 Till he disbursed, at Saint Colmes' inch, 
 Ten thousand dollars to our general use. 
 
 Dim. No more that thane of Cawdor shall de- 
 ceive 
 
 Our bosom interest : Go, pronounce his death, 
 And with his former title greet Macbeth. 
 
 Rosse. I'll see it done. 
 
 Dun. What he hath lost, noble Macbeth hath 
 won. [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE III. A Heath. Thunder. Enter the 
 three Witches. 
 
 1 Witch. Where hast thou been, sister ? 
 
 2 Witch. Killing swine. 
 
 3 Witch. Sister, where thou ? 
 
 1 Witch. A sailor's wife had chesnuts in her lap, 
 
 And mounch'd, and mounch'd, and mounch'd : 
 
 Gire me, quoth I : 
 
 Jlroint thee,* witch ! the rump-fed ronyon 5 cries. 
 Her husband's to Aleppo gone, master o'the Tiger: 
 But in a sieve I'll thither sail, 
 And, like a rat without a tail. 
 I'll do, I'll do, and I'll do. 
 
 -2 Witch. I'll give thee a wind. 
 
 1 Witch. Thou art kind. 
 
 3 Witch. And I another. 
 
 1 Witch. I myself have all the other; 
 And the very ports they blow, 
 
 All the quarters that they know 
 I'the shipman's card. 6 
 I will drain him dry as hay : 
 Sleep shall, neither night jior day, 
 Hang upon his pent-house lid ; 
 He shall live a man forbid :' 
 Weaiy sev'n-nights, nine times nine, 
 Shall lie dwindle, peak, and pine : 
 Though his bark cannot be lost, 
 Yet it~shall be tempest-toss'd. 
 Look what I have. 
 
 2 Witch. Show me, show me. 
 
 1 Witch. Here I have a pilot's thumb, 
 Wreck'd, as homeward he did come. 
 
 [Drum within. 
 
 3 Witch. A drum, a drum ; 
 Macbeth doth come. 
 
 (1) Mock. (2) Shakspeare means Mars. 
 
 (3 ) Defended by armour of proof. 
 
 (4) Avaunt, begone. 
 
 (5) A scurvy woman fed on offals. 
 
 (6) Sailor's chart. (7) Accursed. 
 
 All. The weird sisters, 8 hand in hand, 
 Posters of the sea and land, 
 Thus do go about, about ; 
 Thrice to thine, and thrice to mine, 
 And thrice again, to make up nine : 
 Peace ! the charm's wound up. 
 
 Enter Macbeth and Banquo. 
 
 Macb. So foul and fair a day I have not seen. 
 
 Ban. How far is't call'd to Fores ? What are 
 
 these, 
 
 So wither'd, and so wild in their attire; 
 That look not like the inhabitants o'the. earth, 
 And yet are on't ? Live vou ? or are you aught 
 That man may question '/ You seem to understand 
 
 me, 
 
 By each at once her choppy finger laying 
 Upon her skinny lips : You should be women, 
 And yet your beards forbid me to interpret 
 That you are so. 
 
 vVac&. Speak, if you can ; What are you ? 
 
 1 Witch. All hail, Macbeth ! hail to thee, thane 
 
 of Glamis ! 
 
 2 Witch. All hail, Macbeth ! hail to thee, thane 
 
 of Cawdor ! 
 
 3 Witch. AH hail, Macbeth ! that shall be king 
 
 hereafter. 
 Ban. Good sir, why do you start; and seem to 
 
 fear, 
 
 Things that do sound so fair ? I'the name of truth, 
 Are ye fantastical, 9 or that indeed 
 Which outwardly ye show ? My noble partner 
 You greet with present grace, and great prediction 
 Of noble having, 10 and of royal hope, 
 That he seems rapt 1 ! withal ;" to me you speak not : 
 If you can look into the seeds of time, 
 And say, which grain will grow, and which will not, 
 Speak then to me, who neither beg, nor fear, 
 Your favours, nor your hate. 
 
 1 Witch. Hail! 
 
 2 Witch. Hail ! 
 
 3 Witch. Hail! 
 
 1 Witch. Lesser than Macbeth, and greater. 
 
 2 Witch. Not so happy, yet much happier. 
 
 3 Witch. Thou shall get kings, though thou be 
 
 none: 
 So, all hail, Macbeth, and Banquo ! 
 
 1 Witch. Banquo, and Macbeth, all hail! 
 
 Jtfacb. Stay, you imperfect speakers, lell me more : 
 By Sinel's death, I know, I am thane of Glamis ; 
 But how of Cawdor? the thane of Cawdor lives, 
 A prosperous gentleman ; and to be king, 
 Stands not wilhin the prospect of belief, 
 No more than to be Cawdor. Sav, from whence 
 You owe this strange intelligence ? or why 
 Upon this blasted heath you stop our way' 
 With such prophetic greeting? Speak. I charge 
 you. [Witches vanish. 
 
 Ban. The earth hath bubbles, as the water has, 
 And these are of them : Whither are they vanish'd ? 
 
 Macb. Into the air ; and what seem'd corporal, 
 
 melted 
 As breath into the wind. 'Would they had staid ! 
 
 Ban. Were such things here, as we do speak 
 
 about ? 
 
 Dr have we eaten of the insane root, 14 
 That takes the reason prisoner ? 
 
 Macb. Your children shall be kings. 
 
 Ban. You shall be king. 
 
 (8) Prophetic sisters. 
 
 (9) Supernatural, spiritual. (10) Estate. 
 
 ill) Rapturously affected. 
 12) The root which makes insane.
 
 MACBETH. 
 
 Adi. 
 
 M*cl>. And thane of Cawdor too ; went it not so ? 
 Ban. To the self-same tune, and words. AVho's 
 here? 
 
 Enter Rosse and Angus. 
 
 Rosse. The king hath happily receiv'd, Macbeth, 
 The news of thy success : and when he reads 
 Thy personal venture in the rebels' fight, 
 His wonders and his praises do contend, 
 Which should be thine, or his : Silenc'd with that, 
 In viewing o'er the rest o'the self-same day, 
 He finds thee in the stout Norweyan ranks, 
 Nothing afeard of what thyself didst make, 
 Strange images of death. As thick as tale, 1 
 Came post with post ; and every one did bear 
 Thy praises in his kingdom's great defence, 
 And pour'd them down before him. 
 
 Jlng. We are sent, 
 
 To give thee, from our royal master, thanks ; 
 To herald thee into his sight, not pay thee. 
 
 Rosse. And, for an earnest of a greater honour, 
 He bade me, from him, call thee thane of Cawdor : 
 In which addition, 2 hail, most worthy thane ! 
 For it is thine. 
 
 Ban. What, can the devil speak true ? 
 
 Macb. The thane of Cawdor lives ; Why do 
 
 you dress me 
 In borrow'd robes ? 
 
 Sng. Who was the thane, lives yet ; 
 
 But under heavy judgment bears that life 
 Which he deserves to lose. Whether he was 
 Combin'd with Norway ; or did line the rebel 
 With hidden help and vantage ; or that with both 
 
 He labour'd in his country's wreck, I know not ; 
 But treasons capital, contess r d, and prov'd, 
 Have overthrown him. 
 
 Macb. Glamis, the thane of Cawdor ? 
 
 The greatest is behind. Thanks for your pains. 
 Do you not hope your children shall be kings, 
 When those that gave the thane of Cawdor to me, 
 Promis'd no less to them ? 
 
 Ban. That, trusted home, 
 
 Might yet enkindle 3 you unto the crown, 
 Besides the thane of Cawdor. But 'tis strange : 
 And oftentimes, to win us to our harm, 
 The instruments of darkness tell us truths; 
 Win us with honest trifles, to betray us 
 In deepest consequence. 
 Cousins, a word, I pray you. 
 
 Macb. Two truths are told, 
 
 As happy prologues to the swelling act 
 Of the imperial theme. I thank you, gentlemen,. 
 This supernatural soliciting 4 
 Cannot be ill ; cannot be good : If ill, 
 Why hath it given me earnest of success, 
 Commencing in a truth ? I am thane of Cawdor : 
 If good, why dp I yield to that suggestion* 
 Whose horrid image doth nnfik my hair, 
 And make my seated* heart knock at my ribs, 
 Against the use of nature ? Present fears 
 Are less than horrible imaginings : 
 My thought, whose murder yet is but fantastical, 
 Shakes so my single state of man, that function 
 Is smother' d in surmise ;' and nothing is, 
 But what is not 
 
 Ban. Look, how our partner's rapt. 
 
 Macb. If chance will have me king, Why, chance 
 may crown me, 
 
 Without my stir. 
 
 Ban. New honours come upon him 
 
 Like our strange garments ; cleave not to their 
 
 mould, 
 But with the aid ofu$e. 
 
 Macb. 3 Come what come may ; 
 
 Time and the hour* rjldf through the roughest da'y. 
 
 Ban. Worthy MacWeth, we stay upon your lei- 
 sure. 
 
 Macb. Give me your favour: 9 my dull brain 
 
 was wrought 
 
 With things forgotten. Kind gentlemen, your pains 
 Are register'd where every day I turn 
 The leaf to read them. Let us toward the king. 
 Think upon what hath chanc'd : and, at more time, 
 The interim having weigh'd it, let us speak 
 Our free hearts each to other. 
 
 Ban. Very gladly. 
 
 Macb. Till then, enough. Come, friends. [Exe. 
 
 SCENE IV. Fores. A room in the Palace. 
 
 Flourish. Enter Duncan, Malcolm, Donalbain, 
 
 Lenox, and attendants. 
 
 Dun. Is execution done on Cawdor ? Are not 
 Those in commission yet return'd ? 
 
 Mai. My liege, 
 
 They are not yet come back. But I have spoke 
 With one that saw him die : who did report, 
 That very frankly he confess'd his treasons ; 
 Implor'd yqur highness' pardon ; and set forth 
 A deep repentance : nothing in his life 
 Became him, like the leaving it : he died 
 As one that had been studied in his death, 
 To throw away the dearest thing he ow'd, 10 
 As 'twere a careless trifle. V/ 
 
 . ---Pan. There's no art, V-s. 
 
 \To find the mind's construction in the face : " ' 
 He was a gentleman oa whom I built 
 An absolute trust. worthiest cousin ! 
 
 Enter Macbeth, Banquo, Rosse, and Angus. 
 
 The sin of my ingratitude even now 
 
 Was heavy on me : Thou art so far before, 
 
 That swiftest wing of recompense is slow 
 
 To overtake thee. 'Would thou hadst less deserv'd ; 
 
 That the proportion both of thanks and payment 
 
 Might have bcsn mine ! only I have left to" say, 
 
 More is thv due than more than all can pay. 
 
 Macb. The service and the loyalty I owe, 
 In doing it, pays itself. Your highness' part 
 Is to receive our duties : and our duties 
 Are to your throne and state, children, and servants; 
 Which do but what they should, by doing every 
 
 thing 
 Safe toward your love and honour. 
 
 Dun. Welcome hither : 
 
 I have begun to plant thee, and will labour 
 To make thee full of growing. 12 Noble Banquo, 
 That hast no less deserv'd, nor must be known 
 No less to have done so, let me infold thee, 
 And hold thee to my heart. 
 
 Ban. There if I grow, 
 
 The harvest is your own. 
 
 Dun. My plenteous joys, ^vi 
 
 Wanton in fulness, seek to hide themselves \J 
 In drops of sorrow. Sons, kinsmen, thanes, 
 And you whose places are the nearest, know, 
 We will establish our estate upon 
 
 fH As fast as they could be counted. (-2) Title. (8) Time and opportunity. (9) Pardon. 
 
 lB\ Stimulate. (4) Encitement. (10> Owned, possessed. 
 
 (5) Temptation. (6) Firmly fixed. , (11) We cannot construe the disposition of the 
 
 (7) The powers of action are oppressed by con- mind by the lineaments of the face. 
 Jecture. j (12) Exuberant.
 
 Seme V, VI. 
 
 MACBETH. 
 
 321 
 
 Our eldest, Malcolm ; whom we name hereafter, 
 The prince of Cumberland : which honour must 
 Not, unaccompanied, invest him only. -^ 
 
 But sign of nobleness, like stars, shall shine _J 
 On all deserrers. From hence to Inverness, 
 And bind us further to you. 
 
 Jtfoc6. The rest is labour, which is not us'd for you: 
 I'll be myself the harbinger, and make joyful 
 The hearing of my wife with your approach ; 
 So, humbly take my leave. 
 
 Dim. My worthy Cawdor ! 
 
 Mttcb. The prince of Cumberland ! That is a 
 
 step, 
 On which I must fall down, or else o'erleap, 
 
 [JMit, 
 
 For in my way it lies. Stars, hide your fires ! 
 Let not 'ight see my black and deep desires : 
 The eye wink at the hand! yet let that be, 
 Which the eye fears, when it is done, to see. [Ex. 
 
 Dun. True, worthy Banquo ; he is full so valiant ; ' 
 And in his commendations I am fed ; 
 It is a banquet to me. Let us after him, 
 Whose care is gone before to bid us welcome : 
 It is a peerless kinsman. [ Flourish. Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE V. Inverness. A room in Macbeth's 
 castle. Enter Lady Macbeth, reading a letter. 
 
 Lady M. They met me in the day of success; 
 and I have learned by the perfectest report, 2 they 
 have more in them than mortal knowledge. When 
 
 I burned in desire to question them further, they The future in the instant. 
 
 . in fur, 
 
 mndf. themselves air, into which they vanished. 
 Whiles I stood rapt in the wonder of it, came 
 
 Attend. So please you, it is true ; our thane is 
 
 coming : 
 
 One of my fellows had the speed of him ; 
 Who, almost dead for breath, had scarcely more 
 Than would make up his message. 
 
 Lady JVT. Give him tending, 
 
 He brings great news. The raven himself is hoarse, 
 
 (Exit Attendant. 
 
 That croaks the fatal entrance of Duncan 
 Under my battlements. Come, come, you spirits 
 That tend on mortal 6 thoughts, unsex me here ; 
 And fill me, from the crown to the toe, top-full 
 Of direst cruelty ! make thick my blood, 
 Stop up the access and passage to remorse ;' 
 That no compunctious visitings of nature 
 Shake my fell purpose, nor keep pedce between 
 The effect, and it ! Come to my woman's breasts, 
 And take my milk for gall, you murd'ring ministers, 
 Wherever in your sightless substances 
 You wait on nature's mischief ! Come, thick night, 
 And pall 3 thee in the dunnest smoke of hell ! 
 That my keen knife 9 see not the wound it makes ; 
 Nor heaven peep through the blanket of the dark, 
 To cry, Hold, Hold .'Great Glamis, worthy Caw- 
 dor! 
 
 Enter Macbeth. 
 
 Greater than both, by the all-hail hereafter ! 
 Thy letters have transported me beyond 
 This ignorant present, 10 and I feel how 
 
 JIacb. 
 
 Duncan comes here to-night. 
 
 My dearest love, 
 
 missives 3 from the kins:, who all-hailed me, Thane j Lady M. And when goes hence? 
 
 of Cawdor ; by ivhic'i 'title, before, these weirdl Macb. To-morrow, as he purposes. 
 sisters saluted me, and referred me to the coming-! Lady C\I. 0, never, 
 
 on of time, with, Ha.il, kin^ that shalt be ! TAtsj Shall sun that morrow see ! vl 
 
 hare I thought good to deliver thee, my dearest :\o'j.r fa.ce, mythane, is as a book, where men V^N. 
 partner of greatness ; that tlion mightest not lose May read strange matters: To beguile the time, ^ 
 the dues of rejoicing, by bein^ ignorant of rc/urflLook like the time; bear welcome in your eye, 
 d thee. Lay it to thy fteartjYour hand, your tongue: look like the innoc 
 
 greatness is promise, 
 
 and farewell. 
 
 Glamis thou art, and Cawdnr : and shalt be 
 
 What thou art promis'd : Yet do I fear thy nature ; 
 
 It is too fuHko'die milk of human kindness, 
 To catch the nearest way : Thou would'stbe ! 
 Art not without ambition ; but without 
 
 ;reat ; 
 
 The illness should attend it. What thou would'st 
 
 highly, 
 
 That would'st thou holily ; would'st not play false, 
 And yet would'st wrongly win : thou'd'st have, 
 
 great Glamis, 
 That which cries, Thus thou must do, if thou 
 
 have it ; 
 
 And that which rather thou dost fear to do, 
 Than wishest should be undone. Hie thee hither, 
 That I may pour my spirits in thine ear ; 
 And chastise with the valour of my tongue 
 All that impedes thee from the golden round ;* 
 Which fate and metaphvsical 5 aid doth seem 
 To have thee crown'd withal. What is your 
 
 tidings? 
 
 Enter an Attendant. 
 Attend, The king comes here to-night. 
 
 Lady M. 
 
 Thou'rt mad to say it 
 
 Is not thy master with him ? who, were't so, 
 Would Have inform'd for preparation. 
 
 Full as valiant as described. 
 The best intelligence. (3) Messengers. 
 Diadem. (5) Supernatural. 
 Murderous. (7) Pity. 
 
 Wrap as in a mantle. 
 
 flower, 
 But be the serpent under it. 
 
 innocent 
 
 He that's coming 
 
 Must be provided for: and you shall put 
 This night's great business into my despatch ; 
 Which shall to all our nights and days to come 
 Give solely sovereign sway and masferdom. 
 
 Macb. We will speak further. 
 
 Lady M. Only look up clear ; 
 
 To alter favour 1 ' ever is to fear : 
 Leave all the rest to me. [Exeiait. 
 
 SCE.VE VI. The same. Before the castle. 
 Hautbmis. Servants of Macbeth attending. 
 Enter Duncan, Malcolm, Donalbain, Banquo, 
 Lenox, MacdutF, Rosse, Angus, and attendants. 
 
 Dun. This castle hath a pleasant seat ; the air 
 Nimbly and sweetly recommends itself 
 Unto our gentle senses. 
 
 Ban. This guest of summer, 
 
 The temple-haunting martlet, does approve, 
 By his lov'd mansionry, that the heaven's breath 
 Smells wooingly here ; no jutty, frieze, buttress, 
 Nor coisne of vantage, 12 but this bird hath made 
 His pendent bed, and procreant cradle : Where they 
 Most breed and haunt, I have observ'd, the air 
 Is delicate. 
 
 (9) Knife anciently meant a sword or dagger. 
 
 (10) t. e. Beyond the present time, which is, ac- 
 cording to the process of nature, ignorant of the 
 future. 
 
 (11) Look, countenance. (12) Convenient corner* 
 IS 
 
 N/\ 
 
 -.
 
 
 
 1?0 _ ?s 
 MACBETH. 
 
 Jlct II. 
 
 Enter Lady Macbeth. 
 
 Dun. 
 
 See, see ! our honour'd hostess ! 
 
 The love that follows us, sometime is our trouble, 
 Which still we thank as love. Herein I teach you, 
 How you shall bid God yield 1 us for your pains, 
 And thank us for your trouble. 
 
 Lady M. All our service 
 
 In every point twice done, and then done double, 
 Were poor and single business, to contend 
 Against those honours deep and broad, wherewith 
 Your majesty loads our house : For those of old, 
 And the late dignities heap'd up to them, 
 We rest your hermits. 2 
 
 Dun. 
 
 Where's the thane of Cawdor ? 
 
 We cours'd him ^t the heels, and had a purpose 
 To be his purveyor : but he rides well ; 
 And his great love, sharp as his spur, hath holp him 
 To his home before us : Fair and noble hostess, 
 We are your guest to-night. 
 
 Lady M. 
 
 Your servants ever 
 
 Have theirs, themselves, and what is theirs, in 
 
 compt, 3 
 
 To make their audit at your highness' pleasure, 
 Still to return your own. 
 
 Dun. Give me your hand : 
 
 Conduct me to mine host ; we love him highly, 
 And shall continue our graces towards him.' 
 By your leave, hostess. [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE VII. The same. Jl room in the castle. 
 
 Hautboys and torches. Enter, and pass over 
 
 the stage, a Sewer,* and divers. Servants with 
 
 I dishes and service. Then enter Macbeth. 
 
 | Macb. If it were done, wiicn 'tis done, the: 
 
 I,- 'twere well 
 
 \C It were done quickly : If the assassination 
 \J Could trammel up the consequence, and catch, 
 With his surcease, success ; that but this blow 
 Might be the be-all and the end-all hero, 
 But here, upon this bank and shcal of time, 
 We'd jump the life to come. But, in these cases, 
 We still have judgment here ; that we but teach 
 Bloody instructions, which, being taught, return 
 To plague the inventor : This even-handed justice 
 Commends the ingredients of our poison'd chalice 
 To our own lips. He's here in double trust : 
 First, as I am his kinsman and his subject, 
 Strong both against the deed ; then, as his host, 
 Who should agajnst his murderer shut the deor, 
 Not bear the knife myself. Besides, this Duncan 
 Hath borne his faculties so meek, hath been 
 / So clear in his great officeAthat his virtues 
 ^SwWill plead like angels, trumpet-tongucd, against 
 ^^he deep damnation of his taking-oft": 
 And pity, like a naked new-born babe, 
 Striding the blast, or heaven's cherubin, hors'd 
 Upon the sightless couriers 5 of the air, 
 Shall blow the horrid deed in every eye, 
 That tears shall drown the wind. I have no sp 
 To prick the sides of my intent, but only 
 Vaulting ambition, which o'er-leaps itself, 
 And falls on the other. How now, what news 1 
 
 Enter Lady Macbeth. 
 Lady M. He has almost supp'd ; Why have you 
 
 left the chamber 1 
 Macb. Hath he ask'd for me 1 
 Lady M. Know you not, he has 1 
 
 Macb. We will proceed no further in this business : 
 
 1 Reward. 
 
 2 t. . We as hermits shall ever pray for you. 
 S Subject to account. 
 
 4 An officer so called from hi* placingthe dishes 
 the table, 
 
 He hath honour'd me of late ; and I have bought 
 Golden opinions from all sorts of people, 
 Which would be worn now in their newest gloss, 
 Not cast aside so soon. 
 
 Lady M. Was the hope drunk, 
 
 Wherein you dress'd yourself? hath it slept since ? 
 And wakes it now, to look so green and pale 
 At what it did so freely ? From this time, 
 Such I account thy love. |~Art thou afeard 
 To be the same in thine own act and valour, 
 As thou art in desire ? IVould'st thou have that 
 Which thou esteem'st ftie ornament of life, 
 And live a coward in thine own estee 
 Letting I dare not wait upon / wot 
 Like the poor cat i'the adage ? 
 
 Macb. Pr'ythee, peace : 
 
 I dare do all that may become a man ; 
 Who dares do more, is none. 
 
 Lady M. What beast was it then, 
 
 That made you break this enterprise to me ? 
 When you durst do it, then you were a man ; 
 And, to be more than what you were, you would 
 Be so much more the man. Nor time, nor place, 
 Did then adhere, 6 and yet you would make both : 
 They have made themselves, and that their fitness 
 
 now 
 
 Does unmake you. I have given suck ; and know 
 How tender 'tis, to love the babe that milks me : 
 I would, while it. was smiling in my face, 
 Have pluck'd my nipple from his boneless gums, 
 And dash'd the brains out, had I so sworn, as vou 
 
 Have done to this. 
 
 If we should fail,- 
 
 Macb. 
 
 LadyM. We fail! 
 
 ut screw your courage to the sticking-place, 
 
 nd we'll not fail. When Duncan fe asleep, 
 (Whereto the rather shall his day's hard journey 
 Soundly invite him,) his two chamberlains 
 Will I with wine and wasscp so convince, 8 
 That memory, the warder 3 of the brain, 
 Shall be a fume, and the receipt of reason 
 A limbeck only : When in swinish sleep 
 Their drenched natures lie, as in a death, 
 What cannot you and I perform upon 
 The unguarded Duncan ? what not put^ipon 
 His spongy officers ; who shall bear the guilt 
 Of our great quell? 10 
 
 J/c&. Bring forth men children only ! 
 
 For thy undaunted mettle should compose 
 Nothing but males. W r ill it not be received, ' ' 
 When we have mark'd with blood those sleepy two 
 Of his own chamber, and us'd their very daggers, 
 That they have done't ? 
 
 Lady M. Who dares receive it other, 
 
 As we shall make our griefs and clamour roar 
 Upon his death ? 
 
 Macb. I am settled, and bend up 
 
 Each corporal agent to this terrible feat. 
 Away, and mock the time with fairest show ; """x^ 
 False face must hide what the false heart doth know. ; 
 
 [ExcunL-* J 
 
 ACT II. 
 
 SCENE I. The same. Court within the castle. 
 Enter Banquo and Fleance, and a servant, with 
 a torch before them. 
 
 Ban. How goes the night, boy ? 
 
 Winds ; sightless is invisible. 
 
 In the same sense as cohere. 
 
 Intemperance. 
 Sentinel. (10) Murder, 
 
 (8) Overpower. 
 (11) Apprehended,
 
 Siene II. 
 
 MACBETH. 
 
 323 
 
 Fie. The moon is down ; I have not heard the 
 clock. 
 
 Ban. And she goes down at twelve. 
 
 Fie. I t:tke't, 'tis later, sir. 
 
 Ban. Hold, take my sword : There's husbandry 1 
 
 in heaven, 
 
 Their candles are all out. Take thee that too. 
 A heavy summons lies like IP;:-;! tipon me, 
 And yet I would not sleep : Merciful powers ! 
 Restrain in me the cursed thoughts, that nature 
 Gives way to in repose ! Give :ne my sword ; 
 
 Enter Macbeth, and a servant with a torch. 
 
 Who's there ? 
 
 Macb. A friend. 
 
 Ifa>j. What, sir, not yet at rest ? The king's a-bed : 
 He hath been in unusual pleasure, and 
 Sent forth great largess 2 to your offices : 3 
 This diamond he greets your wife withal, 
 }}y the name of most kind hostess ; and shut up 4 
 In measureless content. 
 
 Macb. Being unprepar'd, 
 
 Our will became the servant to defect ; 
 Which else should free have wrought. 
 
 Ban. All's well. 
 
 I dreamt last night of the three weird sisters : 
 To you they have show'd jome truth. 
 
 Macb. 
 
 I think not of them ; 
 
 Yet, when we can entreat an hour to serve, 
 Would spend it in some words upon that business, 
 If vou would grant the time. 
 
 Ban. At your kind'st leisure. 
 
 Macb. If you shall cleave to'my consent, when 
 
 'tis, 
 It shall make honour for you. 
 
 Ban. So I lose none, 
 
 In seeking to augment it, but still keep 
 My bosom franchis'd, and allegiance clear, 
 I shall be counscl'd. 
 
 Macb. Good repose, the while ! 
 
 Ban. Thanks, sir; The like to you ! [Ex. Ban. 
 
 Macb. Go, bid thy mistress, when my drink is 
 
 ready, 
 
 She strike upon the bell. Get then to-bed. [Ex. Sen 
 Is this a dagger, which I see before me, 
 The handle toward my hand? Come, let me clutch 
 
 thce : 
 
 I have thee not, and yet. I sec thee still. 
 
 Art thou not, fatal vision, sensible 
 
 To feeling, as to sight? or art thou but 
 
 A dagger of the mind ; a false creation, 
 
 Proceeding from the heat-oppressed brain ? 
 
 I see thce yet, in form as palpable, 
 
 As this which now I draw. 
 
 Thou marshal's! me the w::y that I was going ; 
 
 And such an instrument I was to use. 
 
 Mine eyes are made the fools o'thc other senses, 
 
 Or else worth all the rest : I see thee still ; 
 
 And on thy blade, and dudgeon, 1 gouts' of blood, 
 
 Which was not so before. There's no such thing 
 
 It is the bloody business, which informs 
 
 Thus to mine eves. Now o'er the one half world 
 
 Nature seems dead, and wicked dreams abuse 
 
 The curtain'd sleep ; now witch.-rai't celebrates 
 
 Pale Hecate's offerings ; and wither'd murder, 
 
 Alarum'd by his sentinel, the wolf, 
 
 Whose howl's his watch, thus with his stealthy 
 
 pace, 
 
 With Tarquin's ravishing strides, towards his de- 
 sign 
 Moves likes a ghost. Thou sure and firm set earth, 
 
 (1) Thrift. (2) Bounty. 
 
 (3) The rooms appropriated to servant*. 
 
 Hear not my steps, which way they walk, for fear 
 The very stones prate of my where-abput, 
 \nd take the present horror from the time. 
 kVhich now suits with it. Whiles I threat, he lirea ; 
 Words to the heat of deeds too cold breath gives. 
 
 [A bell rings. 
 
 I go, and it is done ; the bell invites me. 
 Hear it not, Duncan ; Ibr it is a knell, 
 That summons thee to heaven, or to hell. {Exit. 
 
 SCENE II. The same. Enter Lady Macbeth. 
 
 Lady M. That, which hath made the.n drunk, 
 
 hath made me bold : 
 What hath nuench'd them, hath given me fire : 
 
 Hark ! Peace ! 
 
 t was the owl that shriek'd, the fatal bellman, 
 Which gives the stern'st good-night. He is about it : 
 The doors are open ; and the surfeited grooms 
 [)o mock their charge with snores : I have drugg'd 
 
 their possets, 
 
 That death and nature do contend about them, 
 Vhnlher Ihey live or die. 
 .Macb. [If it Inn.] Who's there ? what, ho! 
 I Mhf M. Alack ! I am afraid they have awak'd, 
 \nd 'tis not done : the attempt, and not the deed, 
 Confounds us: Hark! I laid their daggers ready, 
 He could not miss them. Had he not resembled 
 My father as he slept, 1 had don't. My husband ? 
 
 Enter Macbeth. 
 
 Macb. I have done the deed : Didst thou not 
 
 hear a noise ? 
 Lady M. I heard the owl scream, and the crick 
 
 cts cry. 
 
 Did not you speak ? 
 Macb. When ? 
 
 Lady M. Now. 
 
 Macb. As I descended 7 
 
 Lady M. Av. 
 Macb. Hark! 
 
 Who lies i'the second chamber ? 
 
 Donalbain. 
 
 Lady M. 
 
 Macb. This is a sorry sight. 
 
 [Looking on his hands> 
 
 Lady M. A foolish thought, to say a sorry sight. 
 
 Macb. There's one did laugh in his sleep, and 
 
 one cried, murder ! 
 That they did wake each other ; I stood and heard 
 
 them : 
 
 But they did say their prayers, and address'd them 
 Again to sleep. 
 
 Lady M. - There are two lodg'd together. 
 
 Macb. One rrkd, God bless us ! and, ~'linen, the 
 
 other ; 
 
 As' they had seen me, with these hangman's hands. 
 Listening their fear, I could not say,"amen, 
 When they did say, God bless us. 
 
 Lady M. Consider it not so deeply. 
 
 Macb. But wherefore could not I pronounce, 
 
 amen ? 
 
 I had most need of blessing, and amen 
 Stuck in my throat. 
 
 Lady M. These deeds must not be thought 
 
 After these ways ; so, it will make us mad. 
 
 Macb. Methbught, I heard a voice cry, Sleep no 
 
 more ! 
 
 Macbeth does murder deep, the innocent sleep ; 
 Sleep, that knits up the ravell'd sleave 8 of care, 
 The death of each day's life, sore labour's bath, 
 Balm of hurt minds, great nature's second course, 
 Chief nourisher in life's feast ; 
 
 Conclude. 
 As if. 
 
 (5) Haft. (6) Drop. 
 
 (8) Sleave is unwrought silk.
 
 MACBETH. 
 
 Ad IT. 
 
 Lady M. 
 
 What do vou mean ? 
 
 Macb. Still it cried, Sleep no more 1 to all the 
 
 house : 
 
 Gtamts hath murder' d sleep ; and therefore Cawdor 
 Khali sleep no more, Macbeth shall sleep no more ! 
 
 Lady JVf. Who was it that thus cried ? Why, 
 
 worthy thane, 
 
 You do unbend your noble strength, to think 
 So brainsickly of things : Go, get some water, 
 And wash this filthy witness from your hand. 
 Why did you bring these daggers from the place ? 
 They must lie there : Go, carry them ; and smear 
 
 ver at quiet ! What are you ? But this place is too 
 cold for hell. I'll devil-porter it no further : I had 
 thought to have let in some of all professions, that 
 
 fo the primrose way to the everlasting bonfiie. 
 Knocking.] Anon, anon ; I pray you, remember 
 
 the porter. 
 
 [Opens the gate. 
 
 XVf <~tll I ( 
 
 The'sleepy grooms with blood. 
 
 Macb. I'll go no more : 
 
 I am afraid to think what I have done ; 
 Look on't again, I dare not. 
 
 Lady M. " Infirm of purpose! 
 
 Give me the daggers : The sleeping and the dead, 
 Are but as pictures : 'tis the eye of childhood, 
 That fears a painted devil. If he do bleed, 
 I'll gild the faces of the grooms withal, 
 
 For it must seem their guilt ; hi and disheartcns him Inakes him sta ; ld to and 
 
 [Exit. knocking within. not ' 8tand to . in conclusion, equivocates him in a 
 
 Enter Macduffanrf Lenox. 
 
 Macd. Was it so late, friend, ere you went to 
 
 bed, 
 That you do lie so late ? 
 
 Port. 'Faith, sir, we were carousing till the 
 second cock: 4 and drink, sir, is a great provoker 
 of three things. 
 
 Macd. What three things does drink especially 
 provoke ? 
 
 Port. Marry, sir, nose-painting, sleep, and urine. 
 Lechery, sir, it provokes, and unprovokes : it pro- 
 vokes the desire, but it takes away the performance . 
 Therefore, much drink may be said to be an equivo- 
 cator with lechery : it makes him, and it mars him ; 
 it sets him on, and it takes him oft'; it persuades 
 
 Macb. Whence is that knocking? 
 
 How is't with me, when every noise appals me ? 
 What hands are here ? Ha ! they pluck out mine 
 
 eyes ! 
 
 Will all great Neptune's ocean wash this blood 
 Clean from my hand ? No ; this my hand will rather 
 The multitudinous seas incarnardine, ' 
 Making the green one red. 
 
 Re-enter Lady Macbeth. 
 
 Lady M. My hands arc of your colour ; but I 
 
 shame 
 To wear a heart so white. [Knock.] I hear a 
 
 knocking 
 
 At the south entry : retire we to our chamber: 
 A Kttle water clears us of this deed : 
 How easv is it then ! Your constancy 
 Hath left you unattended. [Knocking.] Hark! 
 
 more knocking : 
 
 Get on your night-gown, lest occasion call us, 
 And show us to be watchers : Be not lost 
 So poorly in your thoughts. 
 
 sleep, and, giving him the lie, leaves him. 
 
 ^lacd. I believe, drink gave thee the lie last night. 
 
 Port. That it did, sir, i'the very throat o'me : 
 But I requited him for his lie ; and, I think, being 
 too strong for him, though he took up my legs 
 sometime, yet I made a shift to cast him. 
 
 Macd. Is thy master stirring ? 
 Our knocking lias awak'd him ; here he comes. 
 
 Enter Macbeth. 
 
 Len. Good-morrow, noble sir ! 
 
 Macb. Good-morrow, both ! 
 
 Macd. Is the king stirring, worthy thane ? 
 
 Macb. Not yet. 
 
 . \Iacd. He did command me to call timely on him : 
 I hr-.ve almost slipp'd the hour. 
 
 Macb. I'll bring you to him. 
 
 MacJ. I know, this is a joyful trouble to you; 
 But yet, 'tis one. 
 
 Macb. The labour we delight in, physics' pain. 
 This is the door. 
 
 Macd. I'll make so bold to call, 
 
 Macb. To" know iny deed, 'twere best -not For 'tis my limited service 
 
 know myself. 
 
 [Knock.iLtn 
 
 Wake Duncan with thy knocking! Ay, 'would 
 thou could'st ! [Exeunt . 
 
 SCENE IH.T!ie same. Enter a Porter. 
 [Knocking within.] 
 
 Porter. Here's a knocking, indeed ! If a man 
 
 From hence to-day ? 
 
 \Exit Macd. 
 Goes the king 
 
 Macb. He docs : he did appoint it so. 
 
 Len. The night has been unruly : Where we lay, 
 Our chimneys were blown down :' and, as they say, 
 Lamentings heard i'the air ; strange screams of 
 death ; 
 
 And prophesying, with accents terrible, 
 
 you ; here you'll sweat for't. [Knocking. 
 knock : Who's there, i'the other devil's 
 
 ] Knock, 
 
 r devil's name ? 
 
 'Faith, here's an equivocator, that could swear in 
 both the scales against either scale ; who committed 
 treason enough for God's sake, yet could not equi- 
 vocate to Heaven : 0,ccmein, equivocator. [Knock- 
 ing.] Knock, knock, knock : Who's there ? 'Faith, 
 here's an English tailor come hither, for stealing out 
 of a French nose: Come in, tailor; here you may 
 roast your goose. [Knocking.] Knock, knock: Ne- 
 
 (l\ To incarnardine is to stain of a flesh-colour. 
 (2J Freouent. (3) Handkerchiefs. 
 
 (4) Cock-crowing. 
 
 (5) i, e, Affords a cordial to it, 
 
 'Twas a rough night. 
 Len. My young remembrance cannot parallel 
 
 A fellow to it. 
 
 lie-enter Mar 
 
 Macd. O horror ! horror ! horror ! Tongue, nor 
 
 heart. 
 Cannot conceive, nor name thee ! T 
 
 Macb. Len. What's the matter? 
 
 Macd. Confusion now hath made his master- 
 piece ! 
 
 (6) Appointed service. 
 
 (7) The use of two negatives, not to make an 
 affirmative, but to deny more strongly,, is common 
 in our author,
 
 Scene IV. 
 
 MACBETH. 
 
 Most sacrilegious murder hath broke ope 
 The Lord's anointed temple, and stole thence 
 The life o'the building. 
 
 JV/ac6. What is't you say ? the life ? 
 
 Ltn. Mean you his majesty ? 
 
 Macd. Approach the chamber, and destroy your 
 
 sight 
 
 With a new Gorgon : Do not hid me speak ; 
 See, and then speak yourselves. Awake! Awake! 
 [Exeunt Macbeth and Lenox. 
 Ring the alarum-bell : Murder ! and treason ! 
 Banquo, and Donalbain ! Malcolm ! awake ! 
 Shake off this downy sleep, death's counterfeit, 
 And look on death itself! up, up, and see 
 The great doom's image ! Malcolm ! Banquo ! 
 As from your graves rise up, and walk like sprites, 
 To countenance this horror ! [Bell rings. 
 
 Enter Lady Macbeth. 
 
 Lady 31. What's the business, 
 
 That such a hideous trumpet calls to parley 
 The sleepers of the house ? speak, speak, - 
 
 Macd. O, senile lady 
 
 'Tis not for you to hear what I can speak : 
 The repetition, in a woman's ear, 
 U'ould murder as it fell. O Banquo ! Banquo ! 
 
 Enter Banquo. 
 Our royal master's murdcr'd ! 
 
 Lady M. Wo, alas ! 
 
 What, in our house ? 
 
 Ban. Too cruel, any where. 
 
 Dear Duff, I pr'ythee, contradict thyself, 
 And say, it is not so. 
 
 Re-enter Macbeth and Lenox. 
 Macb. Had I but died an hour before this chance, 
 I had liv'd a blessed time ; for, from this instant, 
 There's nothing serious in mortality : 
 All is but toys : renown, and errace, is dead ; 
 The wine of life is drawn, and the mere Ices 
 Is left this vault to brag of. 
 
 Enter Malcolm and Donalbain. 
 
 Don. What is amiss ? 
 
 Macb. You are, and do not know it : 
 
 The spring, the head, the fountain of your blood 
 Is stopp'd ; the very source of it is stopp'd. 
 
 Jtfoeo. Your royal father's murder'd. 
 
 Mai. O, by whom ? 
 
 Len. Those of his chamber, as it seein'd, had 
 
 done't : 
 
 Their hands and faces wore all badg'd with blood, 
 So were their daggers, which, umvip'd, we found 
 Upon their pillows : 
 
 They star'd, and were distracted ; no man's life 
 Was to be trusted with them. 
 
 Macb. O, yet I do repent me of my furv, 
 That I did ki'll them. 
 
 Macd. Wherefore did you so ? 
 
 Macb. Who can be wise, amaz'd, temperate, and 
 
 furious, 
 
 Loyal and neutral, in a moment? No man : 
 The expedition of my violent love 
 Out-ran the pauser reason. Here lay Duncan, 
 His silver skin lac'd with his golden blood ; 
 And his gash'd stabs look'd like a breach in nature, 
 For ruin's wasteful entrance : there, the murderers, 
 Steep'd in the colours of their trade, their daggers 
 Unmannerly breech'd with gore : ' Who could re- 
 frain, 
 
 That had a heart to love, and in that heart 
 Courage, tomake his love known ? 
 
 (I ) Severed with blood to their hilt. 
 
 325 
 Help me hence, ho ! 
 
 Lady M. 
 
 Macd. Look to the lady. 
 
 Mai. Why do we hold our tongues, 
 
 That most may claim this argument for ours f 
 
 Don. What should be spoken here, 
 Where our fate, hid within an augre-hole, 
 May rush, and seize us ? Let's away ; our tears 
 Are'not yet brew'd. 
 
 Mai. Nor our strong sorrow oil 
 
 The foot of motion. 
 
 Ban. Look to the lady : 
 
 [Lady Macbeth is carried out. 
 And when we have our naked frailties hid, 
 That suffer in exposure, let us meet, 
 And question this most bloody piece of work, 
 TQ know it further. Fears and scruples shake us : 
 In the great hand 2 of God I stand ; and, thence, 
 Arainat the undivulg'd pretence 3 1 fight 
 Of treasonous malice. 
 
 Macb. And so do I. 
 
 . ill. So all. 
 
 Macb. Let's briefly put on manly readiness, 
 And meet i'the hall together. 
 
 U. Well contented. 
 
 [Exeunt all but Mai. and Don. 
 ai. What will you do ? Let's not consort with 
 
 them : 
 
 To show an unfelt sorrow, is an office 
 Which the false man does easy: I'll to England. 
 
 Don. To Ireland. I ; our separated fortune 
 Shall keep us both the safer : where we are, 
 There's daggers in men's smiles : the near in blood, 
 The nearer bloody. 
 
 Mai. This murderous shaft that's shot, 
 
 Hath not yet lighted ; and our safest way 
 Is, to avoid the aim. Therefore, to horse ; 
 And let us not be dainty of leave-taking, 
 But shift away : There's warrant in that theft 
 Which steals itself, when there's no mercy left. 
 
 '[Exeunt. 
 
 SCEJSE IV. Without tlif. castle. Enter Rosse 
 and an Old Man. 
 
 Old M. Threescore and ten I can remember 
 
 well : 
 
 iVithin the volume of which time, I have seen 
 Hours dreadful, and things strange ; but this sore 
 
 nisrht 
 Hath trifled former knowings. 
 
 Rosse. Ah, good father, 
 
 Thou see'st, the heavens, as troubled with man's 
 
 act, 
 
 Threaten his blood}' stage : by the clock, 'tis day, 
 And yet dark night strangles the travelling lamp : 
 Is't night's predominance, or the day's shame, 
 That darkness does the face of earth intomb, 
 When living li?ht should kiss it ? 
 
 Old M. 'Tis unnatural, 
 
 Even like the deed that's done. On Tuesday last, 
 A falcon, tow'ring in her pride of place, 
 Was by a mousing owl hawk'd at, and kill'd. 
 Rosse. And Duncan's horses, (a thing most 
 
 strange and certain,) 
 
 Beauteous and swift, the minions of their race, 
 Turn'd wild in nature, broke their stalls, flung out, 
 Contending 'gainst obedience, as they would make 
 War with mankind. 
 
 Old M. 'Tis said, they eat each other. 
 
 Rosse. They did so ; to the amazement of mine 
 
 eyes," 
 
 That look'd upon't. Here comes the good Mac- 
 duff: 
 
 (2) Power. 
 
 (3) Intention.
 
 326 
 
 MACBETH. 
 
 Aii in. 
 
 Enter Macduff. 
 How goes the world, sir, now ? 
 
 Joined. Why, sec you not '! 
 
 Jloase. Is't known who did this more than 
 bloody deed ? 
 
 Macd. Those that Macbeth hath slain. 
 
 Rosse. Alis, the day ! 
 
 What good could they pretend? 1 
 
 JIacd. They were suborn'd : 
 
 Malcolm, and Donalbain, the king's two sons, 
 Arc stol'n away and fled ; which puts upon them 
 Suspicion of the deed. 
 
 Rome. 'Gainst nature still : 
 
 Thriftless ambition, that, wilt ravin up 
 Thine own life's means ! Then 'tis most like, 
 The sovereignty will (ail upon Macbeth. 
 
 Alacd. He is already nam'd ; and gone to Scone, 
 To be invested. 
 
 Rosse. Whore is Duncan's body? 
 
 fitted. Carried to Colmes-kill ; 
 The sacred storehouse of his predecessors, 
 And guardian of their hones. 
 
 Rosse. Will you to Scone ? 
 
 .Macd. No, cousin, I'll to Fife. 
 
 Rosse. Well, I will thither. 
 
 VIaa/. Well, may you see things well done 
 
 there ; adieu ! -- 
 Lest our old robes sit easier than our new ! 
 
 Jlosse. Father, farewell. 
 
 Old Jtf. God's bcnison go with you ; and with 
 
 those 
 Ti:^t would make good of bad, and frier:;]?- nffocs ! 
 
 ACT III. 
 
 SCEJfE I. Fores. .1 room i;i the palace. En- 
 
 ter Banquo. 
 jR.7:i. Thou ln?t it now, King, Cawdor, Glamis, 
 
 all, 
 
 As the weird's women promis'd ; and, I fear, 
 Thou play'dst most foully fort : yet it was said, 
 It should not stand in thy posterity ; 
 But that mself should be the root, and father 
 Of many kings. If there come trulh from them 
 (As upon thce, Macbeth, their speeches shine,) 
 Why, 'by the verities on thec made good, 
 May they not be my oracles as well, 
 Anil set me up in hope ? But, hush ; no more. 
 
 Senet sounded. Enter Macbeth, as king; Lady 
 
 Macbeth, a.s (jneen ; Lenox, Rosse, Lords, La- 
 
 dies, and attendants. 
 
 Jlacb. Here's our chief guest. 
 
 Lady M. If he had been forgotten, 
 
 It had been as a gap in our great feast, 
 And all things unbecoming. 
 
 JIacb. To'-night. we hold a solemn supper, sir, 
 And I'll request your presence. 
 
 Ban. Let your highness 
 
 Command upon me ; to the which, my duties 
 Are with a most indissoluble tie 
 For cv:r knit. 
 
 .Macb. Ride you this afternoon ? 
 
 Jinn. Ay, my good lord. 
 
 Macb. We should have else desir'd your good 
 
 advice 
 
 (Which still hath been both grave and prosperous,) 
 In this day's council ; but we'll take to-morrow. 
 Is't far you ride ? 
 
 (1) Intend to themselves. (2) Commit. 
 
 (2) Npbleness. (1) For defiled. 
 
 Ban. As far, m/lord, as will fill up the time 
 'Twist this and supper : go not my horse the better 
 I must become a borrower of the night, 
 For a dark hour, or twain. 
 
 JIacb. Fail not our feast. 
 
 Ban. Mv lord, I will not. 
 
 JWagb. We hear, our bloody cousins are bestow'd 
 In England, and in Ireland ; not confessing 
 Their cruel parricide, filling their hearers 
 With strange invention : But of that to-morrow ; 
 When, therewithal, we shall have cause of state, 
 Craving- us jointly. Hie you to horse : Adieu, 
 Till you return at night. Goes Fleance with you ? 
 
 Ban. Ay, my good lord : our time does call 
 upon us. 
 
 .Macb. I v/isli your horses swift., and sure of foot ; 
 And so I do commend- you to thtir backs. 
 
 Farewell. [Exit Banquo. 
 
 Let every man be master of his time 
 Till seven at night ; to make society 
 The sweeter welcome, we will keep ourself 
 Till supper-time alone : while then, God be w itli you. 
 [Exeunt I-ccJy Macbeth, Lvrds, Ladies, S>-c. 
 Sirrah, a word: Attend those men our pleasuic .' 
 
 Mien. They are, rny lord, without the palacc- 
 
 JMacb. Bring them before us. [Exit Alten.] 
 
 To be thus, is nothing; 
 
 But to be safely thus : Our li'ars in Banquo 
 Stick deep ; and in his royalty- 1 of nature 
 Reigns that, which would be fear'd : 'Tis much 
 
 he dares ; 
 
 And, to that dauntless temper of his mind, 
 He hath a wisdom that doth guide his valour 
 To a'-! i;i s-i'''y. There is none, but h?, 
 \V!i:,-:' bviivj I do fear: and, tinder him, 
 My genius is rcbuk'd ; as, it is said, 
 Men -k Antony's was by Ca;sar. He chid the sisters, 
 Whf-n (in;! <;i?y put the name of king upon me, 
 | And bade the in speak to him ; then, prophel-like, 
 I They haii'd him father to a line of kings : 
 Upon my head they placed a fruitless crown, 
 And put, a barren sceptre in my gripe, 
 Thence to be wrench'u with an nnlincal hand, 
 No son of mine succeeding. If it be so. 
 For Banquo's issue have I fil'd* my mind ; 
 For them the gracious Duncan have I murdcr'd ; 
 'Put rancours in the vessel of my peace 
 Only for them ; and mine eternal jewel 
 Given to the common enemy of man, 
 To make them kings, the seed of Banquo kings ! 
 Rather than so, come, fate, into the list, 
 
 And champion me to the utterance! 5 Who's 
 
 there ? 
 
 Rr.-enter Attendant, with two Murderers. 
 
 Now to the door, and stay there till wo call. 
 
 [Exit Attendant. 
 
 Was it not yesterday we spoke together ? 
 1 Jliir. It was, so please your highness. 
 Macb. Well then, now 
 
 Have you consider' d of my speeches ? Know, 
 That it was he, in the times past, which held you 
 So under fortune ; wl>ieh, you thcu-jrht, had been 
 Our innocent self: this I mad:: good to you 
 In our last conference ; pass'd in probation with 
 
 you, 
 How you were bcme in hand ;~ how cross'd ; the 
 
 instruments ; 
 Who wrought with them ; and all things else, that 
 
 might, 
 
 (5) Challenge me to extremities. 
 
 (6) Proved." (7) Deluded.
 
 Scene //. 
 
 MACBETH. 
 
 327 
 
 To half a soul, and a notion craz'd, 
 Say, Thus did Banquo. 
 
 1 Mitr. You made it known to us. 
 
 Macb. I did so ; and went further, which is now 
 Our point of second meeting-. Do you find 
 Your patience so predominant in your nature, 
 That you can let this go ? Are you so gpspell'd, 1 
 To pray for that good man, and for his issue. 
 Whose heavy hand hath bow'd you to the grave, 
 And beggar'd yours for ever ? 
 
 1 Jtfiir. We are men, my liege. 
 
 Macb. Ay, in the catalogue ye go for men ; 
 As hounds,"- and greyhounds, mongrels, spaniels, 
 
 curs, 
 
 Shoughs, 2 water-rugs, and dcmi- wolves, arccleped 3 
 All by the name of dogs : the valued file 
 Distinguishes the swift, the slow, the subtle, 
 The house-keeper, the hunter, every one 
 According to the gift which bounteous nature 
 Hath in him clos'tl ; whereby he does receive 
 Particular addition, 4 from the bill 
 That writes them all alike : and so of men. 
 Now, if you have a station in the file, 
 And not in ths worst rank of manhood, say it ; 
 And I will put that business in your bosoms, 
 Whose execution takes your enemy off; 
 Grapples you to the heart and love of us, 
 Who wear our health but sickly in his life, 
 Which in his death were perfect. 
 
 '~ Mur. \ am one, my liege, 
 
 Whom the vile blows and buffets of the world 
 Have so incens'd, that I am reckless 1 what 
 I do, to spite the world. 
 
 1 Mur. - And I another, 
 
 So weary with disasters, tugg'd 6 with fortune, 
 That I would set rny life on any chance, 
 To mend it, or be rid on't. 
 
 Macb. Both of you 
 
 Know, Banquo was your enemy. 
 
 U Mur. Truf, my lord. 
 
 Macb. So is he mine : and in such liiouoy dls- 
 
 tance, 7 
 
 That every minute of his being thrusts 
 Against my near'st of life : And though I could 
 With bare-fac'd power sweep him from my sight, 
 And bid my will avouch it ; yet I must no!, 
 For' certain friends that are both his and mine, 
 Whose loves I may not drop, but wail his fall 
 Whom I myself struck down : and thence it is, 
 That I to your assistance do make love ; 
 Masking,the business from the common eye, 
 For sundry weighty reasons. 
 
 2 Mur. We shall, my lord, 
 
 Perform what you command us. 
 
 1 Mur. Though our lives 
 
 Macb. Your spirits shine through you. Within 
 
 this hour, at most, 
 
 I will advise you where to plant yourselves. 
 Acquaint you with the perfect spy o'thc time, 
 The moment on't ; for't must be done to-night, 
 And something from the palace ; always thought 
 That I require a clearness : And with him, 
 (To leave no rubs, nor botches, in the work,) 
 Fleance his son, that keeps him company, 
 Whose absence is no less material to me 
 Than is his father's, must embrace the fate 
 Of that dark hour. Resolve yourselves apart ; 
 
 (1) Are you so obedient to the precept of the 
 Gospel. 
 
 (2) Wolf-dogs, i (3) Called. 
 
 (4) Title, description. (5) Careless. 
 
 (6) Worried. (7) Mortal enmity. 
 
 (8) Because of. (9) Most melancholy. 
 
 I'll come to you anon. 
 
 2 Mur. We are resolv'd, my lora. 
 
 Macb. I'll call upon you straight ; abide within. 
 
 It is concluded : Banquo, thy soul's flight. 
 
 If it find heaven, must find it out to-night. [Exc, 
 
 SCENE II. The same. Another room. Enter 
 Lady Macbeth, and a Servant. 
 
 Lady M. Is Banquo gone from court? 
 
 Sen). Ay, madam, but returns again to-night. 
 
 Lady M. Say to the king, I would attend his 
 
 leisure 
 For a few words. 
 
 Serv. Madam, I will. [Exit. 
 
 Lady M. Nought's had, all's spent, 
 
 Where our desire is got without content: 
 'Tis safer t o be that which we destroy, 
 Than, by destruction, dwell in doubtful joy. 
 
 Enter Macbeth. 
 
 How now, my lord ? why do you keep alone, 
 Of sorriest 9 fancies your companions making? 
 I? sin rr those thoughts, which should indeed have die-.! 
 Wi;h them they think on ? Things without remedy, 
 Should be without regard : what's done, is done. 
 
 Mccb. We have scotch'd the snake, not kill'd it ; 
 She'll close, and be herself; whilst our poor malice 
 Remains in danger of her former tooth. 
 But let 
 
 The frame of things disjoint, both the worlds suffer, 
 Ere we will eat our meal in fear, and sleep 
 In the affliction of these terrible dreams, 
 That shake us nightly : Better be with the dead, 
 Whom we, to gain our place, have sent to peace, 
 Than on the torture of the mind to lie 
 In restless ecstasy. 10 Duncan is in his grave ; 
 After life's fitful fever, he sleeps well ; 
 Treason has done his worst : nor steel, nor poison, 
 Malice domestic, foreign levy, nothing, 
 Can touch him further ! 
 
 Lady M. Come on; 
 
 Gjentle my lord, sleek o'er your rugged looks ; 
 Be bright and jovial 'mong'your guests to-night. 
 
 Macb. So shall I, love ; and so, I pray, be you: 
 Let your remembrance apply to Banquo ; 
 Present him eminence, 1 ' both with eye and tongue ; 
 unsafe the while, that we 
 
 Must lave our honours in these flattering streams ; 
 \nd make our faces vizards to our hearts, 
 Disguising what they are. 
 
 Lndij M. You must leave this. 
 
 J\Iacb. O, full of scorpions is my mind, dear wife ! 
 Thou know'st, that Banquo, and his Fleance, lives. 
 
 Lady M. Butinthemnature'scopy'snoteterne. 1 * 
 
 Macb. There's comfort yet ; they are assailable ; 
 Then be thou jocund : Ere the bat hath flown 
 :lis cloister'd flight ; ere, to black Hecate's sum- 
 mons, 
 
 The shard -borne beetle, 13 with his drowsy hums, 
 -lath runsr night's yawning peal, there shall be done 
 
 deed of dreadful" note. 
 
 Lady M. What's to be done ? 
 
 Macb. Be innocent of the knowledge, dearest 
 
 chuck, 14 
 
 Till thou applaud the deed. Come, seeling 15 night, 
 Skarf up the tender eye of pitiful day ; 
 \ad, with thy bloody and invisible hand, 
 
 (10) Agony. (11) Do him the highest honours. 
 (12) i. e. The copy, the lease, by which they hold 
 iu'ir lives from nature, has its time of termination. 
 (!J) The beetle borne in the air by its shards o 
 scaly wings. 
 (14) A term of endearment. do) Blinding,
 
 328 
 
 MACBETH. 
 
 Cancel, and tear to pieces, that great bond 
 Which keeps me pale! Light thickens; and the 
 
 crow 
 
 Makes wing to the rooky wood : 
 Good things of day begin to droop and drowse ; 
 Whiles night's black agents to their prey do rouse. 
 Thou marvell'st at my words ; but hold thee still ; 
 Things, bad begun, make strong themselves by ill : 
 So, pr'ythee, go with me. [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE III. The same. Jl park or lawn, wifh 
 a gate leading to the palace. Enter three Mur- 
 derers. 
 
 1 Jtfur. But who did bid thee join with us ? 
 
 3 Jtfur. Macbeth. 
 
 2 Jtfur. He needs not our mistrust; since he de- 
 
 livers 
 
 Our offices, and what we have to do, 
 To the direction just. 
 
 1 Jtfur. Then stand with us. 
 The west yet glimmers with some streaks of day : 
 Now spurs the lated traveller apace, 
 
 To gain the timely inn ; and near approaches 
 The subject of our watch. 
 
 3 Jtfur. Hark ! I hear horses. 
 Ban. [Within.] Give us a light there, ho! 
 
 2 Jtfur. Then it is he ; the rest 
 That are within the note of expectation, 1 
 Already are i'the court. 
 
 1 Jtfur. His horses go about. 
 
 3 Jtfur. Almost a mile : but he does usually, 
 So all men do, from hence to the palace gate 
 Make it their walk. 
 
 Enter Banquo and Fleance, a servant with a torch 
 preceding them. 
 
 2 Jtfur. A light, a light ! 
 
 3 Jtfur. 'Tis he. 
 1 Jtfur. Stand to't. 
 
 Ban. It will be rain to-night. 
 1 Jtfur. Let it come down. 
 
 [Assaults Banquo. 
 Ban. O, treachery ! Fly, good Fleance, fly, fly, 
 
 fly; 
 
 Thou may'st revenge. O slave ! 
 
 [Dies. Fleance and servant escape. 
 3 Jtfur. Who did strike out the light ? 
 
 1 Jtfur. Wart not the way ? 
 3 Jtfur. There's but one down ; the son is fled. 
 
 2 Jtfur. We have lost best half of our afl'air. 
 
 1 Jtfur. Well, let's away, and say how much i 
 done. [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE IV. A room of state in the palace, 
 banquet prepared. Enter Macbeth, Lady Mac- 
 beth, Rosse, Lenox, Lords, and attendants. 
 
 Macb. You know your own degrees, sit down : 
 
 at first 
 
 And last, the hearty welcome. 
 Lords. Thanks to your majesty. 
 
 Macb. Ourself will mingle with society, 
 And play the humble host. 
 Our hostess keeps her state ; 2 but, in best time, 
 We will require her welcome. 
 Lady Jtf. Pronounce it for me, sir, to all our 
 
 friends ; 
 For my heart speaks, they are welcome. 
 
 Enter first Murderer, to the door. 
 Macb. See, they encounter thee with their hearts 
 thanks: 
 
 (1) t. e. They who are set down in the list o 
 guests, and expected to supper. 
 
 Joth sides are even : Here I'll sit i'the midst : 
 Je large in mirth ; anon, we'll drink a measure 
 The table round. There's blood upon thy face. 
 Jtfur. 'Tis Banquo's then. 
 Macb. 'Tis better thee without, than he within, 
 s he despatch'd ? 
 Jtfur. My lord, his throat is cut ; that I did for 
 
 him. 
 Jtfocfr. Thou art the best o'the cut-throats : Yet 
 
 he's good, 
 
 That did the like for Fleance : if thou didst it, 
 Thou art the nonpareil. 
 
 Jtfur. Most royal sir, 
 
 fleance is 'scap'd. 
 Macb. Then comes my fit again: I had else 
 
 been perfect ; 
 
 kVhole as the marble, founded as the rock ; 
 As broad, and general, as the casing air : 
 8 ut now, I am cabin'd, cribb'd, confin'd, bound in 
 To saucy doubts and fears. But Banquo's safe ? 
 
 Jtfur. Ay, my good lord : safe in a ditch he bides, 
 With twenty trenched gashes on his head ; 
 The least a death to nature. 
 
 cb^ Thanks for that : 
 
 There the grown serpent lies ; the worm, that's fled, 
 
 Hath nature that in time will venom breed, 
 
 No teeth for the present. Get thee gone ; to-mor 
 
 row 
 We'll hear, ourselves again. [Exit Murderer. 
 
 Lady Jtf. My royal lord, 
 
 You do not give the cheer : the feast is sold, 
 That is not often vouch'd, while 'tis a making, 
 'Tis given with welcome : To feed, were best at 
 
 home; 
 
 From thence, the sauce to meat is ceremony : 
 Meeting were bare without it. 
 
 Jtfac6. Sweet remembrancer ! 
 
 Now, good digestion wait on appetite, 
 And health on both ! 
 
 Len. May it please your highness sit? 
 
 [The Ghost of Banquo rises, and sits in 
 
 Macbeth's place. 
 Macb. Here had we now our country's honour 
 
 roofd, 
 
 Were the srrac'd person of our Banquo present ; 
 Who may I rather challenge for unkindness, 
 Than pity for mischance ! 
 
 Rosse. His absence, sir. 
 
 Lays blame upon his promise. Please it your 
 
 highness 
 
 To srace us with your royal company? 
 Macb. The table's full. 
 
 Len. Here's a place reserv'd, sir. 
 
 Macb. Where? 
 Len. Here, my lord. What is't that 
 
 moves your highness ? 
 Macb. Which of you have done this ? 
 Lords. What, my good lord ? 
 
 Jtfacfr. Thou canst not say, I did it : never shake 
 Thy gory locks at me. 
 
 Rosse. Gentlemen, rise ; his highness is not well. 
 Lady Jtf. Sit, worthy friends : my lord is often 
 
 thus, 
 And hath been from his youth : 'Pray you, keep 
 
 seat; 
 
 The (it is momentary ; upon a thought 3 
 He will again be well : If much YOU note him, 
 You shall offend him, and extend his passion ;* 
 Feed, and regard him not. Are you a man ? 
 
 Macb. Ay, and a bold one, that dare look on thai 
 Which might appal the devil. 
 
 it! 
 
 2} Continues in her chair of state. 
 
 3) As quick as thought, (4) Prolong bis suffering.
 
 Seme V. 
 
 MACBETH. 
 
 Lady Jtf. proper stuff! 
 
 This is the very painting of your fear : 
 This is the air-drawn dagger, which, you said, 
 Led you to Duncan. 0, these flaws, 1 and starts, 
 (Impostors to true fear,) would well become 
 A woman's story, at a winter's fire, 
 Authoriz'd by her grandam. Shame itself! 
 Why do you make such faces ? When all's done, 
 You look but on a stool. 
 
 Macb. Pr'ythec, see there! behold! look! lo! 
 
 how say you ? 
 
 Why, what care 1 ? If thou canst nod, speak too. 
 If enamel-houses, and our graves, must send 
 Those that we bury, back, our monuments 
 Shall be the maws of kites. [Ghost disappears. 
 
 Lady M. 
 
 What ! quite unmann'd in folly ? 
 
 Macb. If I stand here, I saw him. 
 
 Lady M. 
 
 Fie, for shame ! 
 
 Macb. Blood hath been shed ere HOW, i'lhe 
 
 olden time, 
 
 Ere human statute purg'd the gentle weal ; 
 Ay, and since too, murders have been pcrform'd 
 Too terrible for the ear : the times have been, 
 That, when the brains were out the man would die, 
 And there an end ; but now, they rise again, 
 With twenty mortal murders on their crowns, 
 And push us from our stools : This is more stranze 
 Than such a murder is. 
 
 Lady M. My worthy lord, 
 
 Your noble friends do lack you. 
 
 Jtfocfe. I do forget : 
 
 Do not muse 2 at me, my most worthy friends ; 
 I have a strange infirmity, which is nothing 
 
 To those that know me. 
 to all ; 
 
 Come, love and health 
 
 Then I'll sit down: Give me some wine, fill 
 
 full : 
 
 I drink to the general joy of the whole table, 
 
 Ghost rises. 
 
 And to our dear friend Banquo, whom we miss ; 
 Would he were here ! to all, and him, we thirst, 
 And all to all. 3 
 
 Lords. Our duties, and the pledge. 
 
 Macb. A vaunt ! and quit my sight ! Let the 
 
 earth hide thee ! 
 
 Thy bones are marrowless, thy blood is cold ; 
 Thou hast no speculation in those eyes 
 Which thou dost glare with ! 
 
 LadyM. 
 
 Think of this, good peers, 
 
 But as a thing of custom : 'tis no other : 
 Only it spoils the pleasure of the time. 
 
 Macb. What man dare, I dare : 
 Approach thou like the rugged Russian bear, 
 The arm'd rhinoceros, or the Hyrcan tiger, 
 Take any shape but that, and my firm nerves 
 Shall never tremble : Or, be alive again, 
 And dare me to the desert with thy sword ; 
 If trembling I inhibit* thee, protest me 
 The baby of a girl. Hence, horrible shadow ! 
 
 [Ghost disappears. 
 
 Unreal mockery, hence ! Why, so ; being gone. 
 I am a man again. Pray you, sit still. 
 
 Lady M. "iou have displac'd the mirth, broke 
 
 the good meeting, 
 With most admir'd disorder. 
 
 Macb. Can such things be, 
 
 And overcome 5 us like a summer's cloud, 
 Without our special wonder? You make me strang 
 Even to the disposition that I owe,' 
 When now I think you can behold such sights, 
 
 (1) Sudden gusts. (2) Wonder. 
 
 (3) i. e. All good wishes to all. (4) Forbid. 
 
 (5) Pass over. (6) Possess. (7) Magpies. 
 
 And keep the natural ruby of your cheeks, 
 When mine are blanch'd with fear. 
 Jtosse. What sitrhts, my lord ? 
 
 Lady M. I pray you, speak not ; he grows worse 
 
 and worse j 
 
 Question enrages him : at once, good night : 
 ! Stand not upon the order of your going, 
 But go at once. 
 
 Len. Good night, and better health 
 
 Attend his majesty ! 
 Lady M. A kind good night to all ! 
 
 [Exeunt Lords and attendants. 
 Macb. It will have blood ; they say, blood will 
 
 have blood : 
 Stones have been known to move, and trees to 
 
 speak; 
 
 Augurs, and understood relations, have 
 By magot-pies,' and choughs, and rooks, brought 
 
 forth 
 
 The sccrct'st man of blood. What is the night ? 
 Lady M. Almost at odds with morning, which 
 
 is which. 
 Macb. How say'st thou, that Macduff denies 
 
 his person, 
 
 At our great bidding ? 
 
 Lady M. Did you send to him, sir? 
 
 Macb. I hear it by the way ; but I will send : 
 There's not a one* o'f them, but in his house 
 1 keep a servant feed. I will to-morrow 
 (Betimes I will,) unto the weird sisters: 
 More shall they speak ; for now I am bent to know, 
 By the worst means, the worst : for mine own good, 
 All causes shall rjivc way. 1 am in blood 
 Slept in so far, that, should I wade no more, 
 Returning were as tedious as go o'er : 
 Strange things I have in head, that will to hand ; 
 Which must be acted, ere they may be scann'd. 9 
 Lady M. You lack the season of a'll natures, sleep. 
 Macb. Come, we'll to sleep : My strange and 
 
 self-abuse 
 
 Is the initiate fear, that wants hard use : 
 We are yet but your.g in deed. [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE V.The healh. Thunder. Enter He- 
 cate, meeting the three Witches. 
 
 1 Witch. Why, how now, Hecate? you look 
 angcrly. 
 
 Hec. Have I not reason, bedlams, as you are 
 Saucy, and overbold? How did you dare 
 To trade and traiiic with Macbeth, 
 In riddles and affairs of death ; 
 And I, the mistress of your charms, 
 The close contriver of all harms, 
 Was never call'd to bear my part, 
 Or show the glory of our art ? 
 And, which is worse, 'all you have done 
 Hath been but for a wayward son, 
 Spiteful, and wrathful, who, as others do, 
 Loves for his own ends, not for you. 
 But make amends now : Get you gone, 
 And at the pit of Acheron, 
 Meet me i'the morning ; thither he 
 
 Will come to know his destiny. 
 
 Your vessels, and your spells, provide, 
 
 Your charms, and every thing beside : 
 
 I am for the air ; this night I'll spend 
 
 Unto a dismal-fatal end. 
 
 Great business must be wrought ere noon . 
 
 Upon the corner of the moon 
 
 There hangs a vaporous drop profound ; 10 
 
 (8) An individual. (9) Examined nicely. 
 (10) i. e. A drop that has deep or hidden quali- 
 ties. 
 
 2 T
 
 330 
 
 I'll catch it ere it come to ground : 
 And that, distiU'd by^magic slights 
 
 MACBETH. 
 
 Ad IV. 
 
 Shall raise such artificial sprites, 
 
 As, by the strength of their illusion, 
 
 Shall draw him on to his confusion : 
 
 He shall spurn fate, scorn death, and heai 
 
 His hopes 'bove wisdom, grace, and fear : 
 
 And you all know, security 
 
 Is mortals' chiefest enemy. 
 
 Song. [Within.] Come away, come away, fyc. 
 
 Hark, I am call'd ; my little spirit, see, 
 
 Sits in a foggy cloud, and stays for me. [Exit. 
 
 1 Witch. Come, let's make haste ; she'll soon be 
 
 back again. [Exeunt. 
 
 SCEJfE VI. Fores. A room in the pdace. En- 
 ter Lenox and another Lord. 
 
 Len. My former speeches have but hit your 
 
 thoughts, 
 
 Which can interpret further : only, I say, 
 Things have been strangely borne : The gracious 
 
 Duncan 
 
 Was pitied of Macbeth: marry, he was dead : 
 And the riant-valiant Bar.quo walk'd too late ; 
 Whom, you may say, if it please you, Fleance kill'd, 
 For Fleance fled. 'Men must not walk too late. 
 Who cannot want the thought, how monstrous 
 It was for Malcolm, and for Donalbain, 
 To kill their gracious father ? damned lact ! _ 
 How it did grieve Macbeth ! did he not straight, 
 In pious rage, the two delinquents tear, 
 That were the slaves of drink, and thralls of sleep? 
 Was not that nobly done ? Ay, and wisely too ; 
 For 'twould have anger'd any heart alive, 
 To hear the men deny it. So that, I say, 
 He has borne all things well: and I do think, 
 That, had he Duncan's sons under his key 
 (As, an't please heaven, he shall not,) they should 
 
 find 
 
 What 'twere to kill a father ; so should Fleanee. 
 But, peace ! for from broad words, and 'cause he 
 
 fail'd 
 
 His presence at the tyrant's feast, I hear 
 Macduff lives in disgrace : Sir, can you tell 
 Where he bestows himself? 
 
 Lord. The son of Duncan, 
 
 From whom this tyrant holds the due of birth, 
 Lives in the English court ; and is received 
 Of the most pious Edward with such grace, 
 That the malevolence of fortune nothing 
 Takes from his high respect : Thither Macduff 
 Is gone to pray the holy king, on his aid 
 To wake Northumberland, and warlike Siward : 
 That by the help of these (with Him above 
 To ratify the work,) we may again 
 Give to our table meat, sleep to our nights ; 
 Free from our feasts and banquets bloody knives ; 
 Do faithful homage, and receive free honours, 1 
 All which we pine for now : And this report 
 Hath so exasperate 2 the king, that he 
 Prepares for some attempt of war. 
 
 Ltn. Sent he to Macduff? 
 
 Lord, He did : and with an absolute, Sir, not I, 
 The cloudy messenger turns me his back, 
 And hums ; as who should say, You'll rue the lime 
 That dogs me icilh this answer. 
 
 Len. And that well might 
 
 Advise him to a caution, to hold what distance 
 His wisdom can provide. Some holy angel 
 Fly to the court of England, and unfold 
 His message ere he come ; that a swift blessing 
 
 May soon return to thia our suffering country 
 Under a hand accuw'd ! 
 Lord. My prayers with him ! 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 IS) 
 
 1 ) Honours freely bestowed. 
 
 2) For exasperated. 
 
 ACT IV. 
 
 SCE./VE I. A dark cave. In the middle a caul- 
 dron boiling. Thunder. Enter three Witches. 
 
 1 Witch. Thrice the brinded cat hath mew'd. 
 
 2 Witch. Thrice ; and once the hedge-pig whin'd. 
 
 3 Witch. Harper cries : 'Tis time, 'tis time. 
 
 1 Witch. Round about the cauldron go ; 
 
 In the poison'd entrails throw. 
 
 Toad, that under coldest stone, 
 
 Days and nights hast thirty-one 
 Swelter'd* venom sleeping got, 
 Boil thou first i'the charmed pot ! 
 
 Ml. Double, double toil and trouble ; 
 Fire, burn ; and, cauldron, bubble. 
 
 2 Witch. Fillet of a fenny snake, 
 In the cauldron boil and bake : 
 Eye of newt, and toe of frog, 
 Wool of bat, and tongue of dog, 
 Adder's fork, and blind-worm's sting, 
 Lizard's leg, and owlet's wing, 
 
 For a charm of powerful trouble, 
 Like a hell-broth boil and bubble. 
 
 .'III. Double, double toil and trouble, 
 Fire, burn; raid, cauldron, bubble. 
 
 3 Witch. Scale of dragon, tooth of wolf; 
 Witches' mummy ; maw, and gulf, 4 
 
 Of the ravin'd 5 salt-sea shark ; 
 Root of hemlock, digg'd i'the dark ; 
 Liver of blaspheming Jew ; 
 Gall of goat, and slips of yew, 
 Sliver'd in the moon's eclipse ; 
 Nose of Turk, and Tartar's lips 
 Finser of birth-strangled babe, 
 j Ditch-deliver'd by a drab, 
 Make the gruel thick and slab : 
 Add thereto a tiger's chaudron, c 
 For the ingredients of our cauldron. 
 
 Ml. Double, double toil and trouble ; 
 Fire, barn; and, cauldron, bubble. 
 
 2 Witch. Cool it with a baboon's blood, 
 Then the charm is firm and good. 
 
 Enter Hecate, and the other three Witches. 
 Hec. O, well dene ! I commend your pains ; 
 And every one shall share i'the gains. 
 And now about the cauldron sing, 
 Like elves and fairies in a ring, 
 Enchanting all that you put in. 
 
 SONG. 
 
 Black spirits and white, 
 
 Red spirits and grey ; 
 
 Jlingle, mingle, mingle, 
 
 You that mingle may. 
 
 2 Witch. By the pricking of my thumbs, 
 
 Something wicked this way comes : 
 
 Open, locks, whoever knocks. 
 
 Enter Macbeth. 
 
 Macb. How now, you secret, black, and mid- 
 night hags ? 
 W T hat is't you do ? 
 Ml. A deed without a name. 
 
 (3) This word is employed to signify that the 
 animal was hot, and sweating with venom, although 
 sleeping: under a cold stone. 
 
 (4) The throat. (5) Ravenous. (6) Entrails.
 
 Scu 7. 
 
 MACBETH. 
 
 331 
 
 Macb. I c6njure you, by that which you profess, [Great Birnara wood to high Dunsinane hill 
 ( Howe'er you come to know it,) answer me : | Shall come against him. [Desct 
 
 Though you untie the winds, and let them tight .Macb. _ That will never be j 
 
 Against the churches ; though the yesty 1 waves 
 
 Confound and swallow navigation up ; 
 
 Though bladed corn be lodg'd, 2 and trees blown 
 
 down ; 
 
 Thouih castles topple 3 on their warders' heads ; 
 Though palaces, and pyramids, do slope 
 Their heads to their foundations ; though the trea- 
 sure 
 
 Of nature's germins* tumble all together, 
 Even till destruction sicken, answer me 
 To what I ask you. 
 
 1 Witch. Speak. 
 
 2 Witch. Demand. 
 
 3 Witch. We'll answer. 
 
 1 Witch. Say, if thou'd'st rather hear it from our 
 
 mouths, 
 Or from our masters' ? 
 
 .Mar b. Call them, let me see them. 
 
 1 Witdi. Pour in sow's blood, that hath eaten 
 Her-nine furrow ; grease, that's sweated 
 From the murderer's gibbet, throw 
 Into the llanic. 
 
 .ill. Come, hinjh, or low ; 
 
 Thyself, and office, deftly* show. 
 
 Thunder. *1n Apparition of an armed Head rises. 
 Macb. Tell me, thou unknown power, 
 
 1 Witch. 
 
 He knows thy thought ; 
 
 Hear his speech, hut, say thou nought. 
 *1pp. Macbeth! Macbeth! Macbeth! beware 
 
 MacduiT; 
 
 Beware the thane of Fife. Dismiss me: Enough. 
 
 [Descends. 
 Macb. Whate'er thou art, for thy good caution, 
 
 thanks ; 
 Thou hast harp'd my fear aright : But one word 
 
 more : 
 1 Witch. He will not be commanded: Here's 
 
 another, 
 More potent than the first. 
 
 Thunder. Jin Apparition of a bloody Child rises. 
 
 *lpp. Macbeth ! Macbeth ! Macbeth ! 
 
 Macb. Had I three ears, I'd hear thee. 
 
 .lop. 
 
 Be bloody, bold, 
 
 And resolute : laugh to scorn the power of man, 
 For none of woman born shall harm Macbeth. 
 
 [Descends. 
 Macb. Then live, Macduff ; What need I fear of 
 
 thee? 
 
 But yet I'll make assurance doubly sure. 
 And take a bond of fate : thou shalt not live ; 
 That I may lell pale-hnarted fear, it lies, 
 And sleep in spite of thunder. What is this, 
 
 Thunder. 2i Apparition of a Child crowned, with 
 
 a tree in his hand, rises. 
 That rises like the issue of a king ; 
 And wears upon his baby brow the round 
 And top of sovereignty V 
 
 .-}ll. Listen, but speak not. 
 
 1pp. Be lion-mettled, proud ; and take no care 
 Who chafes, who frets, or where conspirers are : 
 Macbeth shall never vanquish'd be, until 
 
 (2) Laid flat by wind or rain. 
 
 (1) Frothy. 
 
 (3) Tumble. 
 
 (4) Seeds which have begun to sprout. 
 <5) Adroitly. 
 
 (6) Touch'd on a passion as a harper touches a I 
 string. 
 
 Descends. 
 
 ^yllo can impress the forest ; bid the tree 
 Unfix his earth-boundroot? sweet bodeuients! good! 
 Rebellious head, rise never, till the wood 
 Of Birnam rise, and our high-plac'd Macbeth 
 Shall live the lease of nature, pay his breath 
 To time, and mortal custom. Yet my heart 
 Throbs to know one thing ; Tell me, (if your art 
 Can tell so much,) shall Banquo's issue ever 
 llcisrn in this kingdom ? 
 
 'ft.'. Seek to know no more. 
 
 Macb. I will be satisfied : deny me this, 
 And an eternal curse fall on you ! Let me know : 
 Why sinks that cauldron ? and what noise 9 is this ? 
 
 [Hautboys. 
 
 1 Witch. Show! 
 
 2 Witch. Show ! 
 
 3 Witch. Show ! 
 
 .ill. Shov/ iiis eyes, and grieve his heart; 
 Come like shadows, so depart. 
 
 liziit Kinsfn appear, and pass over the stare in 
 : the la.-:t icitk a glass in his hand; Ban- 
 
 Macb. Thou art too like the spirit of Banquo : 
 
 down ! 
 
 Thy crown does sear mine eye-balls : And thy hair, 
 Thou other gold-bound brow, is like the first : 
 A third is like the former : Filthy hags ! 
 Why do you show me this? A fourth? Start, eves ! 
 \Vii:it ! will the line stretch out to the crack of 
 
 doom? 10 
 
 Another yet ? A seventh ? I'll see no more : 
 And yet the eighth appears, who bears a glass, 
 Which shows me many more ; and some I see, 
 That two-fold balls and treble sceptres carry : 
 Horrible sight ! Ay, now, I see, 'tis true ; " 
 For the blood-bolter'd 11 Banquo smiles upon me, 
 And points at them for his. What, is this so ? 
 
 1 Witch. Ay, sir, all this is so : But why 
 Stands Macbetn thus amazedly ? 
 Come, sisters, cheer we up his sprights, 1 * 
 And show the best of our delights ; 
 I'll charm the air to rive a sound, 
 While you perform your antique round : 
 That this great king may kindly say, 
 Our duties di(^ his welcome pay. 
 
 [.Music. The Witches dance, and vanish. 
 Macb. Where are they ? Gone ? Let this perni- 
 cious hour 
 
 Stand aye accursed in the calendar ! 
 Come in, without there ! 
 
 Enter Lenox. 
 
 Len. What's your grace's will ? 
 
 Macb. Saw you the wierd sisters ? 
 
 Len. No, my lord. 
 
 Macb. Came they not by you ? 
 
 Len. No, indeed, my lord. 
 
 Macb. Infected be the air whereon they ride ; 
 And damu'd, all those that trust them ! I did hear 
 The galloping of horse : Who was't came by ? 
 
 Len. 'Tis two or three, my lord, that bring you 
 word, 
 
 (7) The round is that part of a crown which en- 
 circles the head : the top is the ornament which 
 rises above it. 
 
 (S) Who can command the forest to serve him 
 like a soldier impressed ? 
 
 (9) Music. (10) The dissolution of nature. 
 
 (11) Be.-:!-irec! with blood. (12) t. e. Spirits,
 
 S38 
 
 MACBETH. 
 
 Act IV. 
 
 Macduff is fled to England. 
 
 Macb. .Fled to England? 
 
 Len. Ay, my good lord. 
 
 Macb. Time, thou anticipat'st 1 my dread ex- 
 ploits : 
 
 The flighty purpose never is o'ertook. 
 Unless the deed go with it : From this moment, 
 The very firstlings of my heart shall be 
 The firstlings of my hand. And even now 
 To crown my thoughts with acts, be it thought 
 
 and done : 
 
 The castle of Macduff I will surprise ; 
 . Seize upon Fife ; give to the edge o'the sword 
 His wife, his babes, and all unfortunate souls 
 That trace- 1 his line. No boasting like a fool ; 
 This deed I'll do, before this purpose cool : 
 But no more sights ! Where are these gentlemen ? 
 Come, bring me where they are. [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE //.Fife. A room in Macduff's castle. 
 Enter Lady Macduff, her Son, and Kosse. 
 
 L. Macd. What had he done, to make him fly 
 the land ? 
 
 Rosse. You must have patience, madam. 
 
 L. Macd. He had none : 
 
 His flight was madness : When our actions do not, 
 Our fears do make us traitors. 3 
 
 Rosse. You know not, 
 
 Whether it was his wisdom, or his fear. 
 
 L. Macd. Wisdom to leave his wife, to leave 
 
 his babes, 
 
 His mansion, and his titles, in a place 
 From whence himself does fly? He loves us not ; 
 He wants the natural touch :* for the poor wren, 
 The most diminutive of birds, will fi^Ht, 
 Her young ones in her nest, against the owl. 
 All is the fear, and nothing is the love ; 
 As little is the wisdom, where the flight 
 So runs against all reason. 
 
 Rosse. My dearest coz', 
 
 I pray you, school yourself: But, for your husband, 
 He is noble, wise, judicious, and best knows 
 The fits o'the season. 1 dare not speak much 
 
 further : 
 
 But cruel are the times, when we are traitors, 
 And do not know ourselves ; when we hold rumour 
 From what we fear, yet know not what we fear ; 
 But float upon a wild and violent sea, 
 Each way, and move. I take my leave of you : 
 Shall not be long but I'll be -here again : 
 Things at the worst will cease, or else climb up- 
 ward 
 
 A To what they were before. My pretty cousin, 
 Blessing upon you ! 
 
 L. Macd. Father'd he is, and yet he's fatherless. 
 
 Rosse. I am so much a fool, should I stay longer, 
 It would be my disgrace, and your discomfort: 
 I take my leave at once. [Exit Rosse. ] 
 
 L. Macd. Sirrah, 5 your father's dead ; 
 
 And what will you do now ? How will you live? 
 
 Son. As birds do, mother. 
 
 L. Macd. What, with worms and flies ? 
 
 Son. With what I get, I mean ; and so do they. 
 
 L. Macd. Poor bird ! thou'dst never fear the net, 
 
 nor lime, 
 The pit-fall, nor the gin. 
 
 Son. Why should I, mother ? Poor birds they 
 
 are not set for. 
 "My father is not dead, for all your saying. 
 
 (1) Preventest, by taking away the opportunity. 
 
 (2) Follow. 
 
 (3) t. e. Our flight is considered as evidence ofl of reproach 
 bur treason. - 
 
 L. Macd. Yes, he is dead ; how wilt thou do for 
 a father ? 
 
 Son. Nay, how will you do for a husband ? 
 
 L. Macd. Why, I can buy me twenty at any 
 market. 
 
 Son. Then you'll buy 'em to sell again. 
 
 L. Macd. Thou speak'st with all thy wit ; and 
 
 yet, i'faith, 
 With wit enough for thee. 
 
 Son. Was my father a traitor, mother? 
 
 L. Macd. Ay, that he was. 
 
 Son. What is a traitor ? 
 
 L. Macd. Why, one that swears and lies. 
 
 Son. And be all traitors, that do so ? 
 
 L. Macd. Every one thtit does so, is a traitor, 
 and must be hanged. 
 
 Son. And must they all be hang'd, that swear 
 and lie ? 
 
 L. Macd. Every one. 
 
 Son. Who must hang them ? 
 
 L. Macd. Why, the honest men. 
 
 Son. Then the liars and swearers are fools : for 
 there are liars and swearers enough to beat the 
 honest men, and hang up them. 
 
 L. Macd. Now, God help thee, poor monkey? 
 But, how wilt thou do for a father? 
 
 Son. If he were dead, you'd weep for him : if you 
 would not, it were a good sign that I should quick- 
 ly have a new father. 
 
 L. Macd. Poor prattler ! how thou talk's! ! 
 Enter a Messenger. 
 
 Mess. Bless you, fair dame ! I am not to you 
 
 known, 
 
 Thouah in your slate ofhonour I arn perfect. 6 
 I doubt, some danger does approach you nearly : 
 [f you will take a homely man's advice, 
 Be not found here ; hence, with your little ones. 
 To fright you thus, methinks, I am too savage ; 
 To do worse to you, \vere fell cruelty, 
 Which is loo nigh your person. Heaven preserve 
 
 you ! 
 I dare abide no longer. [Exit Messenger. 
 
 L. Macd. Whither should I fly ? 
 
 I have done no harm. But I remember now 
 I am in Ihis earthly world ; where, to do harm, 
 Is often laudable : to do good, sometime, 
 Accounted dangerous folly : Why then, alas ! 
 Do I put up that womanly defence, 
 To say I have done no" harm? What are these 
 faces ? 
 
 Enter Murderers. 
 Mur. Whrre is your husband ? 
 L. Macd. I hope in no place so unsanctified, 
 Where such as thou may'st find him. 
 Mur. He's a traitor. 
 
 Son. Thou ly'sl, thou shag-ear'd villain. 
 Mur. What, you egg? 
 
 [Stabbing him. 
 1 oung fry of treachery ? 
 
 Son. He has killed me, mother ; 
 
 Run away, I prav you. [.Dies. 
 
 [Exit Lady Macduff, crying murder, 
 and pursued by the Murderers. 
 
 SCENE ///.England..-? room in the King's 
 palace. Enter Malcolm and Macduff. 
 
 Mai. Let us seek out some desolate shade, and 
 there 
 
 (4) Natural affection. 
 
 (5) Sirrah was not in our author's time a term 
 
 (6) I am perfectly acquainted with your rank.
 
 Scene III. 
 
 MACBETH. 
 
 333 
 
 Weep our sad bosoms empty. 
 
 Macd. Let us rather 
 
 Hold fast the mortal sword ; and, like pood men, 
 Bestride our downfaU'n birthdom :' Each new 
 
 morn, 
 
 New widows howl ; new orphans cry ; new sorrows 
 Strike heaven on the face, that it resounds 
 As if it felt with Scotland, and yell'd out 
 Like syllable of dolour. 
 
 Mai. What I believe, I'll wail ; 
 
 What know, believe ; and, what I can redress, 
 As I shall find the time to friend, 2 I will. 
 What you have spoke, it may be so, perchance. 
 This tyrant, whose sole name blisters our tongue, 
 Was once thought honest : you have lov'd him well ; 
 
 none, 
 
 He hath not touch'd you yet. 
 something 
 
 I am young ; but 
 
 You may deserve of him through me ; and wisdom 
 To offer up a weak, poor, innocent lamb, 
 To appease an angry god. 
 
 Macd. I am not treacherous. 
 
 Mai. But Macbeth is. 
 
 A good and virtuous nature may recoil, 
 In an imperial charge. 3 But 'crave your pardon ; 
 That which you are, my thoughts cannot transpose : 
 Angels are bright still, though the brightest fell : 
 
 Luxurious,* avaricious, false, deceitful, 
 Sudden, 6 malicious, smacking of every sin 
 
 That has a name : But there's no bottom, , 
 
 In my voluptuousness : your wives, your daughters, 
 Your matrons, and your maids, could not fill up 
 The cistern of my lust ; and my desire 
 All continent impediments would o'er-bear, 
 That did oppose my will : Better Macbeth, 
 Than such a one to reign. 
 
 Macd. Boundless intemperance 
 
 In nature is a tyranny ; it hath been 
 The untimely emptying of the happy throne, 
 And fall of many kings. But fear not yet 
 To take upon you what is yours : you may 
 Convey your pleasures in a spacious plenty. 
 And yet seem cold, the time you may so hood-wink. 
 We have willing dames enough ; there cannot be 
 That vulture in you, to devour so many 
 As will to greatness dedicate themselves, 
 Finding it so inclin'd. 
 
 Mai. With this, there grows, 
 
 In my most ill-compos'd affection, such 
 A stanchless avarice, that were I king, 
 I should cut off the nobles for their lands ; 
 Desire his jewels, and this other's house : 
 And my more-having would be as a sauce 
 
 Though all things foul would wear the brows of To make me hunger more ; that I should forge 
 
 Quarrels unjust acrain.st the good, and loyal, 
 Destroying them for wealth. 
 
 Macd. ~ This avarice 
 
 Sticks deeper ; prows with more pernicious root 
 Than summer-seeding lust : and it, hath been 
 The sword of our slain kings : Yet do not fear ; 
 Scotland hath foysons 7 to fill up your will, 
 
 grace, 
 
 Yet grace must still look so. 
 Macd. 
 
 I have lost my hopc-s. 
 
 Mai. Perchance, even there, where I did 
 
 my doubts. 
 Why in that rawness left you wife and child 
 
 line! 
 
 (Those precious motives,!! 
 Without leave-taking ? I 
 
 es,thosc strong knots of love,) 
 
 pray you, 
 
 Let not my jealousies be your dishonours, 
 But mine own s:)l<-tie= : You may be rightly just. 
 Whatever I shall think. .__. , 
 
 Macd. Bleed, bleed, poor country! i As justice, verity, temperance, stableness, 
 
 Great tyranny, lay thou thy basis sure, | Bountv, perseverance, mercy, lowliness, 
 
 For goodness dares not check thee ! wear thou thy Devotion, patience, couratre, fortitude, 
 
 Of your mere own : All these are portable, 8 
 With other graces wck'h'cl. 
 Mai. But I have none : The king-becoming 
 grace*, 
 
 Thy title is affeer'd. 4 Fare thee well, lord : 
 t would not be the villain that thou think'st 
 For the whole space that's in the tyrant's grasp, 
 And the rich east to boot. 
 
 Mai. Be not offended : 
 
 I speak not as in absolute fear of you. 
 I think, our country sinks beneath the yoke ; 
 It weeps, it bleeds ; and each new day a gash 
 Is added to her wounds : I think, withal, 
 There would be hands uplifted in my right ; 
 And here, from gracious England, have I offer 
 Of goodly thousands : But, for all this, 
 When I shall tread upon the tyrant's head, 
 Or wear it on my sword, yet my poor country 
 Shall have more vices than it had before ; 
 More suffer, and more sundry ways than ever, 
 By him that shall succeed. 
 
 Macd. What should he be ? 
 
 Mai. It is myself I mean : in whom I know 
 All the particulars of vice so crafted, 
 That, when they shall be open'd, black Macbeth 
 Will seem as pure as snow ; and the poor state 
 Esteem him as a lamb, being compar'd 
 With my confineless harms.' 
 
 Macd. Not in the legions 
 
 Of horrid hell, can come a. devil more damn'd 
 In evils, to top Macbeth. 
 
 Mai. I grant him bloody, 
 
 (1) Birthright. 
 
 (2) Befriend. 
 
 (3) t. e. A good mind may recede from goodness 
 jn the execution of a royal commission. 
 
 I have no relish of them ; but abound 
 
 In the division of each several crime, 
 
 Acting it many ways. Nay, had I power, I should 
 
 Pour the s-.veet milk of concord into hell, 
 
 Uproar the universal peace, confound 
 
 All unity on earth. 
 
 Macd. O Scotland ! Scotland ! 
 
 Mai. If such a one be fit to govern, speak ; 
 I am as I have spoken. 
 
 .Macd. Fit to govern ! 
 
 No, not to live. nation miserable, 
 With an untitled tyrant bloody-scepter'd, 
 When shall thou see thy wholesome days again ? 
 Since that the truest issue of thy throne 
 By his own interdiction stands accars'd, 
 And does blaspheme his breed ? Thy royal father 
 Was a most sainted king ; the queen, that bore thee, 
 Oftner upon her knees than on her feet, 
 Died every day she lived. Fare thee well ! 
 These evils, thou repeat'st upon thyself, 
 Have banish'd me from Scotland. 0, my "breast, 
 Thy hope ends here ! 
 
 Mai. Macduff, this noble passion, 
 
 Child of integrity, hath from my soul 
 Wip'd the black scruples, reconcil'd my thoughts 
 To thy good truth and honour. Devilish Macbeth 
 By many of these trains hath sought to win me 
 Into his power : and modest wisdom plucks me 
 
 (4) Legally settled by those who had the final 
 adjudication. 
 
 (5) Lascivious. 
 7) Plenty. 
 
 (6) Passionate. 
 (8) May be endured,
 
 334 
 
 MACBETH. 
 
 Act ir. 
 
 From over-credulous haste :' But God above 
 Deal between thee and me ! for even now 
 I put myself to thy direction, and 
 Unspeak mine own detraction, here abjure 
 The taints and blames I laid upon myself, 
 For strangers to my nature. I am yet 
 Unknown to woman ; never was forsworn ; 
 Scarcely have coveted what was mine own ; 
 At no tirne broke my faith ; would not betray 
 The devil to his fellow ; and delight 
 No less in truth, than life : my first false speaking 
 Was this upon myself : What I am truly, 
 Is thine, and my poor country's, to command: 
 Whither, indeed, before thy here-approach, 
 Old Siward, with ten thousand warlike men, 
 All ready at a point, was setting forth : 
 Now we'll together ; And the chance, of goodness, 
 Be like our warranted quarrel ! Why arc you silent? 
 Macd. Such welcome and unwelcome things at 
 
 once, 
 Tis hard to reconcile. 
 
 Enter a Doctor. 
 
 Mai. Well; more anon. Comes the king forth, 
 I pray you ? 
 
 Doct. Ay, sir: there arc a crew of wretched souls, 
 That stay 'his cure : their malady convinces" 
 The great assay of art ; but, at his touch, 
 Such sanctity hath heaven given his hand, 
 They presently amend. 
 
 Mai. I thank you, doctor. \Ez. Doct. 
 
 Macd. What is the disease he means 7 
 
 Mai. 'Tis call'd the evil : 
 
 A most miraculous work in this good king ; 
 Which often since my here-remam in. England, 
 I have seen him do. How he solicits heaven, 
 Himself best knows : but strangely-visited people, 
 All swoln and ulcerous, pitiful to the eye, 
 The mere despair of surgery, he cures ; 
 Hanging a golden stamp 3 about their necks, 
 Put on with holy prayers : and 'tis spoken, 
 To the succeeding royalty he lenvcs 
 The healing benediction. With this strange virtue, 
 He hath a heavenly gift of prophecy ; 
 And sundry blessings hang about his throne, 
 That speak him full of grace. 
 
 Enter Rosse. 
 
 Macd. See, who comes. here? 
 
 Mai. My countryman ; but yet I know him not. 
 
 Macd. Sly ever-gentle cousin, welcome hither. 
 
 Mai. I know him now : Good God, betimes 
 
 remove 
 The means that make us strangers ! 
 
 Rouse. Sir, Amen. 
 
 Macd. Stands Scotland where it did ? 
 
 Rosse. Alas, po.or country ; 
 
 Almost afraid to know itself! It cannot 
 Be eall'd our mother, but our lirave: where nothing, 
 But who knows nothing, is once seen to smile ; 
 Where sighs, and groans, and shrieks that rent the 
 
 air, 
 
 Are made, not mark'd : where violent sorrow seems 
 A modern ecstasy ; A the dead man's knell 
 Is there scarce ask'd, for who ; and good men's 
 
 lives 
 
 Expire before the flowers in their caps, 
 Dying, or ere they sicken. 
 
 Macd. O, relation 
 
 Too nice, and yet too true ! 
 
 HJ Over-hasty credulity. 
 
 (2) Overpowers, subdues. 
 
 (3) The coin called an angel, 
 
 Mai. What is the newest grief? 
 
 Rosse. That of an hour's age doth hiss the 
 
 speaker ; 
 Each minute teems a new cne. 
 
 Macd. How does my wife ? 
 
 Rouse. Why, well. 
 
 Macd. And all my children ? 
 
 Rosse. Well too. 
 
 Macd. The tyrant has not batter'd at their peace ? 
 
 Rosve. No ; they were well at peace, when I did 
 leave them. 
 
 Macd. Be not a niggard of your speech ; How 
 goes it ? 
 
 Rosse. When I came hither to transport th'e 
 
 tidings, 
 
 Which I have heavily borne, there ran a rumour 
 Of many worthy fellows that were out ; 
 Which w.is to rny belie'.' witness'd the rather, 
 For that I saw the tyrant's power a-foot : 
 Now is the time of help ; votir eye in Scotland 
 Would create soldiers, make our women light, 
 To doff* their dire distresses. 
 
 Mai. Be it their comfort, 
 
 We arc coming thither : gracious England hath 
 Lent us good Siward, and ten thousand men ; 
 An older, and a better soldier, none, 
 That Christendom gives out. 
 
 licsse. 'Would I could answer 
 
 This comfort with the like ! But I have words, 
 That would be howl'd out in the desert air, 
 Where hearing should not latch them. 
 
 Macd. What concern they ? 
 
 The general cause ? or is it a fee-grief,' 
 Due to some single breast ? 
 
 Rosse. No mind, that's honest, 
 
 But in it shares some wo ; though the main part 
 Pertains to you alone. 
 
 Macd. If it be mine, 
 
 Keep it not from me, quickly let me have it. 
 
 Rosse. Let not your ears despise my tongue for 
 
 ever, 
 
 Which shall possess them with the heaviest sound, 
 That ever yet they heard. 
 
 Macd. Humph ! I guess at it. 
 
 Rosse. Your castle is surpris'd ; your wife, and 
 
 babes, 
 
 Savagely slaughter'd : to relate the manner, 
 Were, on the quarry 3 of these murder' d deer, 
 To add the death of you. 
 
 Mai. Merciful heaven ! 
 
 VVhat, man ! ne'er pull your hat upon your brows ; 
 [rive sorrow words : the grief, that dot's not speak, 
 Whispers the o'er-frausrht heart, and bids it break. 
 
 Macd. My children too ? 
 
 Rosse. Wife, children, servants, all 
 
 That could be found. 
 
 Macd. And I must be from thence ! 
 
 My wife kili'd too ? 
 
 Rosse. I have said. 
 
 Mai. Be comforted : 
 
 Let's make us med'cines of our great revenge, 
 To cure this deadly grief. 
 
 Macd. He has no children. All mv pretty ones ? 
 Did you say, all ? 0, hell-kite ! All ! 
 What, all my pretty chickens, and their dam, 
 At one fell swoon ? 
 
 Mai. Dispute it like a man. 
 
 Macd. I shall do so ; 
 
 But I must also feel it as a man : 
 [ cannot but remember such things were, 
 
 4} Common distress of mind. (5) Put off*. 
 6) Catch. (7) A grief that has a single owner. 
 8) The game after it b killed.
 
 , //. 
 
 MACBETH. 
 
 335 
 
 That were most precious to me. Did heaven look 
 
 on, 
 
 And would not take their part ? Sinful Macduff, 
 They were all struck for thee ! naught that I am, 
 Not for their own demerits, but for mine, 
 Fell slaughter on their souls : Heaven rest them 
 
 now! 
 JVM. Be this the whetstone of your sword : let 
 
 grief 
 
 Convert to anger ; blunt not the heart, enrage it. 
 Macd. O, I could play the woman with mine 
 
 eyes, 
 
 And braggart with my tongue ! But, gentle heaven, 
 Cut short all intermission ;' front to front, 
 Bring thou this fiend of Scotland, and myself; 
 Within my sword's length set him ; if he 'scape, 
 Heaven forgive him too ! 
 
 Mai. This tune goes manly. 
 
 Come, go we to the king ; our power is ready ; 
 Our kick is nothing but our leave : Macbeth 
 Is ripe for shaking, and the powers above 
 Put on their instruments. Receive what cheer you 
 
 may; 
 The night is long, that never finds the day. [Exe. 
 
 ACT V. 
 
 SCENE I. Dunsinane. A room in the castle. 
 Enter a Doctor of Physic, and a waiting Gen- 
 tlewoman. 
 
 Doct. I have two nights watched with you, but 
 can perceive no truth in your report. W : hen was it 
 she last %valked ? 
 
 Gent. Since his majesty went into the field, I 
 have seen her rise from her bed, throw her night- 
 gown upon her, unlock her closet, take forth paper, 
 fold it, write upon it, read it, afterwards seal it, and 
 again return to bed; yet all this while in a most 
 fast sleep. 
 
 Doct. A great perturbation in nature ! to receive 
 at once the benefit of sleep, and do the effects ol 
 watching. In this slumbry agitation, besides her 
 walking, and other actual performances, what, at 
 any time, have you heard her say ? 
 
 Gent. That, sir, which I will not report after her. 
 
 Doct. You may, to me ; and 'tis most meet you 
 should. 
 
 Gent. Neither to you, nor any one, having no 
 witness to confirm my speech. 
 
 Enter Lady Macbeth, with a taper. 
 Lo you, here she comes ! This is her very guise ; 
 and," upon my life, fast asleep. Observe her ; stand 
 close. 
 
 Doct. How came she by that light ? 
 
 Gent. Why, it stood by her : she has light by 
 her continually ; 'tis her command. 
 
 Doct. You see, her eyes are open. 
 
 Gent. Ay, but their sense is shut. 
 
 Doct. What is it she does now ? Look, how she 
 rubs her hands. 
 
 Gent. It is an accustomed action with her, to 
 seem thus washing her hands ; I have known hei 
 continue in this a quarter of an hour. 
 
 Lady JVf. Yet here's a spot. 
 
 Doct. Hark, she speaks : I will set down what 
 comes from her, to satisfy my remembrance the 
 more strongly. 
 
 Lady M. Out, damned spot ! out, I say ! One ; 
 Two ; Why, then 'tis time to do't : Hell is murky ! 2 
 
 (I) AH pause, (2) Dark, (3) Confounded, 
 
 Fie, my lord, fie ! a soldier, and afear'd ? What 
 need \ve fear who knows it, when none can call our 
 lower to account ? Yet who would have thought 
 .he old man to have had so much blood in him? 
 
 Doct. Do you mark that? 
 
 Lady M. The thane of Fife had a wife ; Where 
 s she now? \Vhat, will these hands ne'er be 
 :lean? No more o'that, my lord, no more o'that: 
 you mar all with this starting. 
 
 Doct. Go to, go to ; you have known what you 
 should not. 
 
 Gent. She hns spoke what she should not, I am 
 sure of that : Heaven knows what she has known. 
 
 Lady M. Here's the smell of the blood still : all 
 he perfumes cf Arabia will not sweeten this little 
 land. Oh! oh! oh! 
 
 Doct. What a sigh is there ! The heart is sorely 
 charged. 
 
 Gent. I would not have such a heart in my bo- 
 som, for the dignity of the whole body. 
 
 Doct. Well, well, well, 
 
 Gent. 'Pray God, it be, sir. 
 
 Doct. This" disease is beyond my practice : Yet 
 I have known those which have walked in their 
 sleep, who have died holily in their beds. 
 
 Lady M. Wash your hands, put on your night- 
 gown ; look not so pale : I tell you yet, again, Ban- 
 quo's buried ; he cannot come out of his grave. 
 
 Doct. Even so ? 
 
 Lady M. To bed, to bed ; there's knocking at 
 the gate. Come, come, come, come, give me your 
 hand ; What's done, cannot be undone : To bed, 
 to bed, to bed. [Exit Lady Macbeth. 
 
 Doct . Will she go now to bed ? 
 
 Gent. Directly. 
 
 Doct. Foul whisperings arc abroad : Unnatural 
 
 deeds 
 
 Do breed unnatural troubles : Infected minds 
 To their deaf pillows will discharge their secrets. 
 More needs she the divine, than the physician. 
 God, God, forgive us all ! Look after her ; 
 Remove from her the means of all annoyance, 
 And still keep eyes upon her : So, good night : 
 My mind she has mated, 3 and amaz'd my sight: 
 I think, but dare not speak. 
 
 Gent. Good night, good doctor. 
 
 [Extunt. 
 
 SCENE II. The country near Dunsinane. En- 
 ter, with drum and colours, Mcntcth, Cathness, 
 Angus, Lenox, and Soldiers. 
 
 Ment. The English power is near, led on by 
 
 Malcolm, 
 
 His uncle Siward, and the good Macduff'. 
 Revenges burn in them : for their dear causes 
 Would, to the bleeding, and the grim alarm, 
 Excite the mortified man. 4 
 
 Jlng. Near Birnam wood 
 
 Shall we well meet them ; that way are they coming. 
 
 Caih. Who knows, if Donalbain be with his 
 brother ? 
 
 Len. For certain, sir, he is not : I have a file 
 Of all the gentry ; there is Siward's son, 
 And many unrough 5 youths, that even now. 
 Protest their first of manhood. 
 
 Ment. What does the tyrant? 
 
 Catli. Great Dunsinane he strongly fortifies: 
 Some say, he's mad ; others, that, lesser hate him, 
 Do call it valiant fury : but, for certain, 
 He cannot buckle his distemper'd cause 
 Within the belt of rule. 
 
 Jlng. Now does he feel 
 
 (4) A religious ; an ascetic,
 
 MACBETH. 
 
 His secret murders sticking tn his hands ; 
 Now minutely revolts upbraid his faith-breach ; 
 Those he commands, more only in command, 
 Nothing in love : now does he feel his title 
 Hang loose about him, like a giant's robe 
 Upon a dwarfish thief. 
 
 Ment. Who then shall blame 
 
 His pester'd senses to recoil, and start, 
 When all that is within him does condemn 
 Itself, for being there ? 
 
 Cath. Well, march we on, 
 
 To give obedience where 'tis truly ow'd : 
 Meet we the medicin 1 of the sickly weal ; 
 And with him pour we, in our country's purge, 
 Each drop of us. 
 
 Len. Or so much as it needs, 
 
 To dew the sovereign flower, and drown the weeds. 
 Make we our march towards Birnam. 
 
 [Exeunt, marching. 
 
 SCENE III. Dunsinane. A room in the castle. 
 Enter Macbeth, Doctor, and attendants. 
 
 Macb. Bring me no more reports ; let them fry 
 
 all ; 
 
 Till Birnam wood remove to Dunsinane, 
 I cannot taint with fear. What's the boy Malcolm ? 
 Was he not born of woman / The spirits that know 
 All mortal consequents, pronoum-'d me thus : 
 Fear not, Macbeth; no man, that's born of woman, 
 
 Shall e'er have power on thee. Then fly, false 
 
 thanes, 
 
 And mingle with the English epicures : 
 The niind I sway by, and the heart I bear, 
 Shall never sagg 2 with doubt, nor shake with fear. 
 Enter a Servant. 
 
 The devil damn thee black, thou cream-fac'd loon ; 3 
 Where got'st thou that goose-look ? 
 
 Serv. There is ten thousand 
 
 Macb. Geese, villain ? 
 
 Sere. Soldiers, sir. 
 
 Macb. Go, prick thy face, and over-rell thv fear, 
 Thou lily-Iiver'd boy. " What soldiers, patch?* 
 Death of thy soul ! those linen cheeks of thine 
 Are counsellors to fear. What soldiers, whey-face ? 
 
 Serv. The English force, so please you. 
 
 Macb. Take thy face hence. Seyton ! I am 
 
 sick at heart, 
 
 When I behold Seyton, I say ! This push 
 Will cheer me ever, or disseat me now. 
 I have liv'd long enough : my way oflife 
 Is fall'n into the sear, 5 the yellow leaf: 
 And that which should accompany old age, 
 As honour, love, obedience, troops of friends, 
 I must not look to have ; but, in their stead, 
 Curses, not loud, but deep, mouth-honour, breath, 
 Which the poor heart would fain deny, but dare not. 
 
 Seylon ! 
 
 Edfer Seyton. 
 
 Sew. What is your gracious pleasure ? 
 Macb. What news more ? 
 
 Sey. All is confirm'd, my lord, which was re- 
 ported. 
 Jtfocft. I'll fitrht, till from my bones my flesh be 
 
 hack'd. 
 
 Give me my armour. 
 
 Sey. 'Tis not needed yet. 
 
 Macb. I'll put it on. 
 
 Send out more horses, skirr 6 the country round ; 
 Hang those that talk of fear. Give me mine ar- 
 mour. 
 
 m The physician. (2) Sink. (3) Base fellow. 
 (4) An appellation of contempt. (5) Dry. 
 
 How does your patient, doctor ? 
 
 Doct. Not so sick, my lord, 
 
 As she is troubled with thick-coming fancies, 
 That keep her from her rest. 
 
 Macb. Cure her of that : 
 
 Canst thou not minister to a mind diseas'd ; 
 Pluck from the memory a rooted sorrow ; 
 Raze out the written troubles of the brain ; 
 And, with some sweet oblivious antidote, 
 Cleanse the stuff'd bosom of that perilous stuff 
 Which weighs upon the heart ? 
 
 Doct. Therein the patient 
 
 Must minister to himself. 
 
 Macb. Throw physic to the dogs, I'll none of it. 
 Come, put mine armour on ; give me my staff: 
 Seyton, send out. Doctor, the thanes fly'from me: 
 Come, sir, despatch : If thou could'st, doctor, cast 
 The water of my land, find her disease, 
 And purge it to a sound and pristine health, 
 I would applaud thee to the very echo. 
 That should applaud again. Pull't off, I say. 
 What rhubarb, senna, or what purgative drug, 
 Would scour these Encrlish hence ? Hearest thou 
 of them? 
 
 Doct. Ay, my good lord ; your royal preparation 
 Makes us hear something. 
 
 Macb. Bring it after me. 
 
 I will not be afraid of death and bane, 
 
 Till Birnam forest come to Dunsinane. [Exit. 
 
 Doct. \Vere I from Dunsinane away and clear, 
 Profit again should hardly draw me here. [Exit. 
 
 SCENE IV. Country near Dunsinane : Jlwood. 
 in view. Enter, with drum and colours, Mal- 
 colm, Old Siward and his Son, Macduff, Men- 
 telh, Cathness, An^us, Lenox, Rosse, and Sol- 
 diers, marchiii%. 
 
 Mai. Cousins, I hope, the days are near at hand 
 That chambers will be safe. 
 
 Ment. N We doubt it nothing. 
 
 She. What wood is this before us ? 
 
 Ment. The wood of Birnam. 
 
 Mai. Let every soldier hew him down a bough, 
 And bcar't before him ; thereby shall we shadow 
 The numbers of our host, and make discovery 
 Err in report of us. 
 
 Sold. It shall be done. 
 
 Siio. We learn no other, but the confident tyrant 
 Keeps still in Dunsinane, and will endure 
 Our setting down befor't. 
 
 Mai. 'Tis his main hope : 
 
 For where there is advantage to be given, 
 Both more and less 7 have given him the revolt ; 
 And none serve with him but constrained things, 
 Whose hearts are absent too. 
 
 Macd. Let our just censures 
 
 Attend the true event, and put we on 
 Industrious soldiership. 
 
 Siie. The time approaches, 
 
 That will with due decision make us know 
 What we shall say we have, and what we owe. 
 Thoughts speculative, their unsure hopes relate 
 Bat certain issue strokes must arbitrate :* 
 Towards which, advance the war. 
 
 [Exeunt, marching. 
 
 SCENE V. Dunsinane. Within the castle. En- 
 ter, with drums and colours, Macbeth, Sevton 
 and Soldiers. 
 
 Macb. Hang out our banners on the outward 
 walls ; 
 
 (6} Scour. (7) t. e. Greater and lees. 
 (8) Determine.
 
 Scene VI, VII. 
 
 MACBETH. 
 
 The cry is still. They come : Our castle's strength 
 Will laugh a siege to scorn : here let them lie, 
 Till famine, and the ague, eat them up : 
 Were they not forc'd with those that .should be ours, 
 We might have met then^dareful, beard to beard, 
 And beat them backward home. What is that noise? 
 [Jl cry within, of women. 
 
 Sey. It is the cry of women, my good lord. 
 
 Macb. I have almost forgot the taste of fears : 
 The time has been, my senses would have eool'd 
 To hear a night-shriek ; and my fell 1 of hair 
 Would at a dismal treatise rouse, and stir 
 As life were in't : I have supp'd full with horrors ; 
 Direness, familiar to my slaught'rous thoughts, 
 Cannot once start me. Wherefore was that cry ? 
 
 Sey. The queen, my lord, is dead. 
 
 Maclt. She should have died hereafter ; 
 There would have been a time for such a word. 
 To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow, 
 Creeps in this petty pace from day to day, 
 To the last syllable of recorded time ; 
 And all our yesterdays have lighted fools 
 The way to dusty death. Out, out, briefcandle ! 
 Life's but a walking shadow ; a poor player, 
 That struts and frets his hour upon the stage, 
 And then is heard no more : it is a tale 
 Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, 
 Signifying nothing. 
 
 Enter a Messenger. 
 
 Thou com'st to use thy tongue ; thy story quickly. 
 
 Mess. Gracious my lord, 
 I shall report that which I say I saw, 
 But know not how to do it. 
 
 Macb. Well, say, sir. 
 
 Mess. As I did stand my watch upon the hill, 
 I look'd toward Birnam, and anon, methought, 
 The wood began to move. 
 
 Macb. Liar, and slave ! 
 
 [Striking him. 
 
 Mess. Let me endure your wrath, if't be not so : 
 Within this three mile may you see it coming ; 
 1 say, a moving grove. 
 
 Macb. If thou speak'st false, 
 
 Upon the next tree shall thou han alive, 
 Till famine cling 2 thee : if thy speech be sooth, 
 I care not if thou dost for me as much. 
 I pull in resolution ; and bcjrin 
 To doubt the equivocation of the fiend, 
 That lies like truth : Fear not, till Birnam tcood 
 Do come to Dunsinane; and now a wood 
 Comes toward Dunsinane. Arm, arm, and out! 
 If this, which he avouches, does appear, 
 There is nor flying hence, nor tarrying here. 
 I 'gin to be a- weary of the sun, 
 And wish the estate o'the world were now undone. 
 Ring the alarum bell : Blow, wind ! come, wrack ! 
 At least we'll die with harness 3 en our back. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE VI. The same. A plain before the cas- 
 tle. Enter, with drums and colours, Malcolm. 
 Old Siward, Macdufl', fyc. and their army, with 
 boughs. 
 Mai. Now near enough; your leavy screens throw 
 
 down, 
 
 And show like those you are : You, worthy uncle, 
 Shall, with my cousin, your right-noble son, 
 Lead our first battle : worthy Macduff", and we, 
 Shall take upon us what else remains to do, 
 According to our order. 
 Stto. Fare you well. 
 
 (1) Skin. (2) Shrivel. (3) Armour. 
 
 Do we but find the tyrant's power to-night, 
 Let us be beaten, if we cannot fight. 
 
 Macd. Make all our trumpets speak ; give them 
 
 all breath, 
 
 Those clamorous harbingers of blood and death. 
 [Exeunt. Jllarums continued. 
 
 SCENE VII. The same. Another part of the 
 plain. Enter Macbeth. 
 
 Macb. They have tied me to a stake ; I cannot fly, 
 But, bear- like, I must fight the course. What's he, 
 That was not born of woman? Such a one 
 Am I to fear, or none. 
 
 Enter Young Siward. 
 Yo. Siw. What is thy name ? 
 Macb. Thou'lt be afraid to hear it. 
 
 Yo. Shi. No ; though thOu call'st thyself a hot- 
 ter name 
 
 Than any is in hell. 
 
 Macb. My name's Macbeth. 
 
 Yo. Si?c. The devil himself could not pronounce 
 
 a title 
 
 More hateful to mine ear. 
 Macb. No, nor more fearful. 
 
 Yo. Siw. Thou liest, abhorred tyrant ; with my 
 
 sword 
 I'll prove the. lie thou speak'st. 
 
 [They fight, and Young Siward is slain. 
 Macb. Thou wast born of woman. 
 
 But swords I smile at, weapons laugh to scorn, 
 Brandish'd by man that's of a woman born. [Ex. 
 
 Marums. Enter MacdufF. 
 Macd. That way the noise is : Tyrant, show 
 
 thy face : 
 
 If thou be'st slain, and with no stroke of mine, 
 My wife and children's ghosts will haunt me still. 
 I cannot strike at wretched kernes, 4 whose arms 
 
 By this great clatter, one of greatest note 
 
 Seems bruited: 6 Let me find him, fortune ! 
 
 And more I beg not. [Exit. Jllarum. 
 
 Enter Malcolm and Old Siward. 
 Siw. This way, my lord ; the castle's gently 
 
 render'd : 
 
 The tyrant's people on both sides do fight ; 
 The noble thanes do bravely in the war ; 
 The day almost itself professes yours, 
 And little is to do. 
 
 Mai. We have met with foes 
 
 That strike beside us. 
 Stic. Enter, sir, the castle. 
 
 [Exeunt. Jllanim. 
 Re-enter Macbeth. 
 Macb. Why should I play the Roman fool, and 
 
 die 
 
 On mine own sword ? whiles I see lives, the gashes 
 Do better upon them. 
 
 Re-enter Macduff. 
 
 Macd. Turn, hell-hound, turn. 
 
 Macb. Of all men else I have avoided thee : 
 But get thee back, my soul is too much charg'd 
 With blood of thine already. 
 
 Macd. I have no words, 
 
 My voice is in my sword ; thou bloodier villain 
 Than terms can give thee out ! [They fight. 
 
 Macb. Thou loosest labour : 
 
 (4) Soldiers. (5) Reported with clamour, 
 SU
 
 3U8 
 
 
 MACBETH. 
 
 Act V. 
 
 As easy may'st thou the entrenchant air 1 
 With thy keen sword impress, as make me bleed : 
 Let fall thy blade on vulnerable crests ; 
 I bear a charmed life, which must not yield 
 To one of woman born. 
 
 Macd. Despair thy charm ; 
 
 And let the angel, whom thou still hast serv'd, 
 Tell thee, Macduff was from his mother's womb 
 Untimely ripp'd. 
 
 Macb. Accursed be that tongue that tells me so, 
 For it hath cow'd my better part of man ! 
 And be these juggling fiends no more believ'd, 
 That palter 2 with us in a double sense ; 
 That keep the word of promise to our ear, 
 And break it to our hope. I'll not fight with thee. 
 
 Macd. Then yield thee, coward, 
 And live to be the show and gaze o'the time. 
 We'll have thee, as our rarer monsters are, 
 Painted upon a pole ; and undcrwrit, 
 Here may you see the tyrant. 
 
 Macb. I'll not yield, 
 
 To kiss the ground before young Malcolm's feet, 
 And to be baited with the rabble's curse. 
 Though Birnam wood be come to Dunsinane, 
 And thou oppos'd. beingof no woman born, 
 Yet I will try the last : Before my body 
 I throw my warlike shield : lay on, Macduff; 
 And damn'd be him that first cries, Hold, enough. 
 [Exeunt, fighting. 
 
 Retreat. Umirish. Re-enter, with drum and 
 
 colours, Malcolm, Old Siward, Rosse, Lenox, 
 
 Angus, Cathness, Menteth, and soldiers. 
 
 Mai. I would, the friends we miss were safe ar- 
 riv'd. 
 
 Siw. Some must go off: and yet, by these, I see, 
 So great a day as this is cheaply bought. 
 
 Mai. Macduff is missing, and your noble son. 
 
 Rosse. Your son, my lord, has paid a soldier's 
 
 debt : 
 
 He onty liv'd but till he was a man ; 
 The which no sooner had his prowess confirm'd 
 In the unshrinking station where he fought, 
 But like a man he died. 
 
 Siw. Then he is dead ? 
 
 Rosse. Ay, and brought off the field : your cause 
 
 of sorrow 
 
 Must not be measur'd by his worth, for then 
 It hath no end. 
 
 Site. Had he his hurts before ? 
 
 Rosse. Aye, on the front. 
 
 Siw. 
 
 Why then, God's soldier be he ! 
 
 Had I as many sons as I have hairs, 
 I would not wish them to a fairer death : 
 And so his knell is knoll'd. 
 
 Mai. He's worth more sorrow, 
 
 And that I'll spend for him. 
 
 Siiv. He's worth no more ; 
 
 They say, he parted well, and paid his score : 
 So, God be with him ! Here comes newer comfort. 
 
 Re-enter Macduff; with Macbeth's head on a pole. 
 
 Macd. Hail, king ! for so thou art : Behold, 
 
 where stands 
 
 The usurper's cursed head : the time is free : 
 I see thee compass'd with thy kingdom's pearl, 3 
 That speak my salutation in their minds ; 
 Whose voices I desire .aloud with mine, 
 Hail, king of Scotland ! 
 
 AU. King cf Scotland, hail ! 
 
 [fuurisk. 
 
 .Mai. We shall not spend a large expense of time, 
 Before we reckon with your several loves, 
 And make us even with you. My thanes and kins- 
 men, 
 
 j Henceforth be earls, the first that ever Scotland 
 i In such an honour nam'd. What's more to do, 
 | Which would be planted newly wifh the time, 
 'As calling home our exil'd friends abroad, 
 That fled the snares of watchful tyranny ; 
 Producing forth the cruel ministers 
 Of this dead butcher, and his fiend-like queen ; 
 Who, as 'tis thought, by self and violent hands 
 Took off her life ; This, and what needful else 
 That calls upon us, by the grace of Grace, 
 We will perform in measure, time, and place : 
 So thanks to all at once, and to each one, 
 Whom we invite to see us crown'd at Scone. 
 
 [Flourish. Exeunt. 
 
 This play is deservedly celebrated for the pro- 
 priety of its fiction, and solemnity, grandeur, and 
 variety of its action ; but it has no nice discrimina- 
 tions of character ; the events are too great to ad- 
 mit the influence of particular dispositions, ar.dthe 
 course of the action necessarily determines the con- 
 duct of the agents. 
 
 The danger of ambition is well described ; and 
 I know not whether it may not be said, in defence 
 of some parts which now seem improbable, that 
 in Shakspeare's time it was necessary to warn cre- 
 dulity against vain and illusive predictions. 
 
 The passions are directed to their true end. Lady 
 Macbeth is merely detested ; and though the cou- 
 rage of Macbeth preserves some esteem, yet every 
 reader rejoices at his fall. 
 
 JOHNSON. 
 
 (1) The air, which cannot be cut. (2) Shuffle. (3) The kingdom's wealth or ornament.
 
 ( 33U ) 
 
 KING JOHN. 
 
 PERSONS REPRESENTED. 
 
 King John. 
 
 Prince Henry, his son ; afterward King Henry HI. 
 
 Arthur, duke of Bretagne, son of Geffrey, late duke 
 
 of Bretagne, tin elder brother ./ King 
 
 John. 
 
 William Marshall, earl of Pembroke. 
 Geffrey Fitz-Peter, earl of Essex, chief justiciary 
 
 of England. 
 
 William Lonsword, earl of Salisbury. 
 Robert Bigot," earl ofjfarjtlk. 
 Hubert de Burgh, chamberlain to the A:',ir. 
 Robert Faulconbridge, soil cf ,Si.- Robert Faidcon- 
 
 bridze. 
 Philip Faulronbridge, his half-brother, bastard son 
 
 to King Richard the First. 
 James Gurney, sfr.-ant to Ladti Faulconbridge. 
 Peter of Pomfret, a prophet. 
 
 Philip, king of France. 
 
 Lewis, the dauphin. 
 
 Arch-duke of Austria. 
 
 Cardinal Pandulph, the pope's legate. 
 
 Melon, a French lord. 
 
 Chatillon, ambassador from France to King John. 
 
 Elinor, the icidoic of King Henry II. and mother of 
 
 King John. 
 
 Constance, mother to Arthur. 
 Blanch, daughter to ^Iphonso, king of Castile, and 
 
 iiiece to King John. 
 Lady Faulconbrklge, mother to the bastard, and 
 
 Robert Faidconbritlge. 
 
 Lords, ladies, citizens of +1ngiers, sheriff, heralds, 
 officers, soldiert, messengers, and other attend- 
 ants. 
 
 Scene, sometimes in England, and sometimes in 
 France. 
 
 ACT I. i The thunder of my cannon shall be heard : 
 
 So, hence ! Be thou the trumpet of our wrath, 
 SCEJfE /.Northampton. A room of state in 'And sullen prcsaire ol'vour own decav. 
 
 . i i n _ j _._ T V T L r^i: . i .. *--. ... t 
 
 the palace. Enter King John, Queen Elinor, 
 Pembroke, Essex, Salisbury, and olliers, tcith 
 
 Chatillon. 
 
 An honourable conduct let him have : 
 Pembroke, look to't : Farewell, Chatillon. 
 
 King John. 
 
 [Exeunt Chatillon and Pembroke, 
 ! Eli. What now, my son ? have I not ever said, 
 
 Ni How that ambitious (Constance would not cease, 
 OW, say, Chatillon, what would France with 'fill she had kindled France, and all the world, 
 
 us ? ; I pon the ri?ht and party of her son ? 
 
 Chat. Thus, after greeting, speaks the king of This might have been prevented, and made whole, 
 
 France, 'With very easy arguments of love ; 
 
 In my behaviour, 1 to the majesty, [Which now the manage 2 of two kingdoms must 
 
 The borrow'd maiesty of England here. j With fearful bloody issue arbitrate. 
 
 Eli. A strange beginning ; borrow'd majesty ! j K. John. Our strong possession, and our right 
 K.John. Silence," croud" mother ; hear the em- lor us. 
 
 bassv. j FM. lour strong possession, much more than 
 
 Chat. Phifip of France, in right and true behalf . your right ; 
 
 Of thy deceased brother Geffrey's son, i Or clse n must S wrong with you, and me : 
 
 Arthur Planta-jcnct, lays hiX-! lawful claim - Sf> mucn I: '. v conscience whispers in your ear : 
 
 To this fair island, and the territories ; j u hich none but heaven, and you, and I, shall hear. 
 
 To Ireland, Poictiers, Anjou, Touraine, Maine: 
 Desiring thee to lay aside the sword, 
 Which sways usurpingly these several titles ; 
 And put the same into young Arthur's hand, 
 Thv nephew, and right royal sovereign. 
 
 A". John. What follows, if AYR disallow of this? 
 Chat. The proud control of nYrce ar.d bloody war, 
 To enforce these rights so forcibly withheld. " 
 K. John. Here have we w::r for war, and 
 
 for blood, 
 Controlment for controlment : so answer Franco. 
 
 Chat. Then take my kind's dcf.ancc from my 
 
 mouth, 
 The furthest limit of my emb: 
 
 Enter the Sheriff of SSorthamptonshire, who whis- 
 pers Essex. 
 
 Essex. My liege, hcreis the strangest controversy, 
 Come from the country to be judg'd by you, 
 That ere I heard : Shall I produce the men ? 
 
 A. John. Let them approach. [Exit Sheriff. 
 Our abbies, and our priories, shall pay 
 
 sfrifT, v'.lh Robert Faulconbridge, and 
 Philip, his bastard brother. 
 
 e - enter 
 
 This expedition's charge. What men are you ? 
 
 Bunt. Your faithful j-ubject I, a gentleman, 
 Born in Northamptonshire ; and eldest son, 
 
 K. John. Bear mine to hi;u, and so depart in; As I suppose, to Robert Faulconbridge ; 
 
 peace : ' A soldier, by the honour-giving hand 
 
 Be thou as lightning in the eyes of France ; Of Co?ur-de-lion knighted in the field. 
 
 For ere thou canst report 1 will be there, A". John. What art thou ? 
 
 (1) In the manner I now do. ' (2) Conduct, administration.
 
 340 
 
 KING JOHN. 
 
 Jet 1. 
 
 Rob. The son and heir to that same Faulcon- 
 bridge. 
 
 K. John. Is that the elder, and art thou the heir ? 
 You came not of one mother then, it seems. 
 
 Bast. Most certain of one mother, mighty kin?, 
 That is well known ; and, as I think, oile father : 
 But, for the certain knowledge of that truth, 
 I put you o'er to heaven, and to iny mother ; 
 Of that I doubt, as all men's children may. 
 
 Eli, Out on thee, rude man ! thou dost shame 
 
 thy mother, 
 And wound her honour with this diffidence. 
 
 Bast. I, madam ? no, I have no reason for it ; 
 That is my brother's plea, and none of mine ; 
 The which if he can prove, 'a pops me out 
 At least from fair five hundred pound a year ; 
 Heaven guard my mother's honour, and my land ! 
 
 K. John. A good blunt fellow : Why, being 
 
 younger born. 
 Doth he lay claim to thine inheritance ? 
 
 Bast. I know not why, except to get the land. 
 But once he slandcr'd me with bastardy : 
 But whe'r 1 I be as true begot, or no, 
 That still I lay upon my mother's head ; 
 But, that I am as well begot, my liege, 
 (Fair fall the bones that took the pains for me !) 
 Compare our faces, and be judge yourself. 
 If old sir Robert did beget us b'otn. 
 And were our father, and this son like him ; 
 
 O, old sir Robert, father, on my knee 
 
 I give heaven thanks, I was not like to thee. 
 
 K. John. Why, what a madcap hath heaven lent 
 us here ! 
 
 Eli. He hath a trick 1 of Ccstir-de-lion's face, 
 The accent of his tongue aftecteth him : 
 Do you not read some tokens of my son 
 In the large composition of this man? 
 
 K. John. Mine eye hath weii examined his part?, 
 
 And finds them perfect Richard. Sirrah, speak, 
 
 What doth move you to claim your brother 
 
 Bast. Because he hath a half-face, like n; 
 With that half-face would ha have all my land : 
 A half-fac'd groat five hundred pound a year! 
 
 In sooth, good friend, your father might have kept 
 This calf, bred from his cow, from all the world ; 
 In sooth, he might: then, if he were my brother's, 
 My brother might not claim him ; nor your father, 
 Being none of his, refuse him : This concludes, 
 My mother's son did get your father's heir ; 
 Your father's heir must have your father's land. 
 
 Rob. Shall then my father's will be of no force, 
 To dispossess that child which is not his ? 
 
 Bast. Of no more force to dispossess me, sir, 
 Thai* was his will to get me, as I think. 
 
 Eli. Whether hadst thou rather, be a Faulcon 
 
 bridge, 
 
 And like thy brother, to enjoy thy land ; 
 Or the reputed son of Co?ur-c!e-hon, 
 Lord of thy presence, 3 and no land beside? 
 
 Bast. Madam, an if my brother had my shape, 
 And I had his, ^ir Robert his, like him ; 
 And if my legs were {wo such riding-rods, 
 My arms such eel-skins stufPd ; my face so thin, 
 That in mine ear I durst not stick a rose, 
 Lest men should say, Look, where three-farthings 
 
 goes ! 
 
 And, to his shape, were heir to all this land, 
 'Would I might never stir from off this place, 
 I'd give it every foot to have this face ; 
 I would not be sir Nob 4 in any case. 
 
 Eli. I like thee well ; Wilt "thou forsake thy for- 
 tune, 
 
 Bequeath thy land to him, and follow me ? 
 I am a soldier, and now bound to France. 
 
 Bast. Brother, take you my land, I'll take my 
 
 chance : 
 
 Your free hath got five hundred pounds a year ; 
 ;Yet sell your face for five pence, and 'tis dear. 
 Madarn, I'll follow you unto the death. 
 
 P.''. Nny, I would have you go before me thither. 
 
 Bust. Our country manners give our betters way. 
 
 K. Joint. What is thy name ? 
 
 :r'sland?l Baal. Philip, my liege ; so is my name begun; 
 ly father ; |Philip, good old sir Robert's wife's eldest son. 
 
 A'. John. From henceforth bear his name whose 
 form thou bear'st : 
 
 Rob. My gracious iie7e, when that my fiitherliv'd, 'Kneel thou down Philip, but arise more great; 
 Your brother did employ my father much ; 'Arise sir Richard, and Plantaprnpt. 
 
 Bast. Well, sir, by this you cannot get my land ; 
 Your talc must be, how he employed my mother. 
 
 Rob. And once despatch'd him in an embassy 
 To Germuny, there, with the emperor, 
 To treat of high anairs touching that time : 
 The advantage of his absence took the king, 
 And in the mean time sojourn'd at my father's ; 
 Where how he did prevail, I shame to speak : 
 But truth is truth ; large lengths of seas and shores 
 Between my father and my mother lay 
 (As I hare heard my father speak hiniself,) 
 When this same lusty gentleman was got. 
 Upon hi* death-bed he by will bequeath'd 
 His lands to me ; and took it, 0:1 his death, 
 That this, my mother's son, was none of his ; 
 And, if he were, he came into the world 
 Full fourteen weeks before the course of time. 
 Then, good my liege, let me have what is mine, 
 Mv father's land, as was my father's will. 
 
 K. John. Sirrah, your brother is legitimate ; 
 Your father's wife did, after wedlock, bear him : 
 And, if she did play false, tiic fault was hers ; 
 Which fault lies on the hazards of all husbands 
 That marry wives. Tell me, how if my brother, 
 Who, as you sav, took pains to get this son, 
 Had of your father claim'd this son for his 1 
 
 (1) Whether. (2) Trace, outline. 
 C3) Dignity of appearance. 
 
 Bast. Brother, by the mother's side, give me 
 
 your hand ; 
 
 My father gave me honour, TOUT'S gave, land : 
 Now blessed be the hour, by ni^ht or day, 
 When I was got, sir Robert was away. 
 
 Eli. The very spirit, of Plantagenef ! 
 I am thy srrandame, Richard ; call me so. 
 
 Bast. Madam, by chance, but not by truth: 
 
 What though ? 
 Something about, a little from the right, 
 
 In at the window, or else o'er the hutch : 
 Who dares not stir bv day, must watt by night; 
 
 And have is have, however men do cat'ch : 
 Near or far off", we'il won is still v/ell shot ; 
 And I am I, howe'er ! was begot. 
 
 K. John. Go, Faulconbridge ; now hast thou 
 
 thy desire, 
 
 \ landless knight makes thee a landed 'squire. 
 Come, madam, and come, Richard ; we must speed 
 For France, for France : for it is more than need. 
 
 Bast. Brother, adieu ; Good fortune come to thee ! 
 For thou wast got i'the way of honesty. 
 
 [Exeunt all but the Bastard. 
 A foot of honour better than I ivas ; 
 But many a many foot of land the worse. 
 
 Well, now can I make any Joan a lady : 
 
 Good den, 11 sir Richard, God-a-mercy,feKow; 
 
 (4) Robert. (5) Good CTening.
 
 Scene /. 
 
 KING JOHN. 
 
 341 
 
 And if his name be George, I'll call him Peter: 
 For new-made honour doth forget men's names ; 
 'Tis too respective, ' and too sociable, 
 For your conversion. 2 Now your traveller, 
 He and his tooth-pick at my worship's mess ; 
 And when my knightly stomach is sufnc'd, 
 "Why then I suck tuy teeth, and catechise 
 
 My picked man of countries : 3 Cily dear sir, 
 
 (Thus, leaning on mine elbow, I begin,) 
 / shall beseech you That is question now ; 
 And then comes answer like an ABC-book: 1 
 O, sir, says answer, at your best command; 
 
 .it your employment ; at your service, sir: 
 
 .No sir, says question, /, sicee I sir, at yoyrs : 
 
 And so, ere answer knows what question would 
 
 (Saving in dialogue of compliment; 
 
 And talking of the Alps, and Apennines, 
 
 The Pyrenean, and the river Po,) 
 
 It draws towards supper in conclusion so. 
 
 But this is worshipful society, 
 
 And fits the mounting spirit, like myself: 
 
 For he is but a bastard to the time, 
 
 That doth not smack of observation 
 
 (And so am I, whether I smack, or no ;) 
 
 And not alone in habit and device, 
 
 Exterior form, outward accoutrement ; 
 
 But from the inward motion to deliver 
 
 Sweet, sweet, sweet poison for the age's tooth: 
 
 Which, though I will not practise to deceive, 
 
 Yet, to avoid deceit, I mean to learn : 
 
 For it shall strew the footsteps of my risin?. 
 
 But who comes in such haste, in riding r^bu - .' 
 
 What woman-post is this 1 hath she no husband, 
 
 That will take pains to blow a horn before her ! 
 
 Enter IMJIJ Faulconbridge and James Gurney. 
 
 O me ! it is my mother: How now, g_ood lady? 
 What brings you here to court so hastily ? 
 
 Lady F. Where is that slave, thy brother ? where 
 
 is lie ? 
 That holds in chase ir.ine honour up and down ? 
 
 Bast. My brother Robert ? old sir Robert's son? 
 Colbrand the giant, that same mighty man ? 
 Is it sir Robert's son, that you seek so ? 
 
 Lady F. Sir Robert's son ! Ay, thou unreverend 
 
 bo .V. 
 
 Sir Robert's son : Why scom'st thou at sir Robert ? 
 He is sir Robert's son ; and s-o art thou. 
 Bast. James Gurnev, wilt thou sive us leave a 
 
 while? 
 
 Gur. Good leave, good Philip. 
 Bast. Philip '! sparrow ! James, 
 
 There's toys 5 abroad ; anon I'll tell thee more. 
 
 [Exit Gurney. 
 
 Madam, I was not old sir Robert's son ; 
 Sir Robert mi^rht have eat his part in me 
 Upon Good-Friday, and ne'er broke his fast : 
 Sir Robert could do well ; Marry (to confess !) 
 Could he get me ? Sir Robert could not do it ; 
 We know his handy-work : Therefore, good 
 
 mother, 
 
 To whom am I beholden for these limbs ? 
 Sir Robert never holp to make this leg. 
 
 Lady F. Hast thou conspired with thy brother too, 
 That for thine own gain should'st defend mine 
 
 honour? 
 
 What means this scorn, thou most untoward knave ? 
 Bast. Knight, knight, good mother, Basilisco- 
 
 like: 
 What ! I am dubb'd ; I have it on my shoulder. 
 
 (1) Respectable. (2) Change of condition. 
 (3J My travelled fop. (4) Catechism. 
 (5) Idle reports. 
 
 But, mother, I am not sir Robert's son ; 
 
 I have disclaim'd sir Robert, and my land ; 
 
 Legitimation, name, and all is gone : 
 
 Then, good my mother, let me know my father ; 
 
 Some proper man, I hope ; Who was it, mother ? 
 
 Lady I. Hast thou denied thyself a Faulcon- 
 bridge ? 
 
 Bast. As faithfully as I deny the devil. 
 
 Lady F. King Richard Coeur-de-lion was thy 
 
 father ; 
 By Ion? and vehement suit I was seduc'd 
 
 To make room for him in my husband's bed : 
 
 Heaven lay not my transgression to my charge ! 
 
 Thou art the issue of my dear offence, 
 
 Which v. as so strongly nrg'd, past my defence. 
 
 7Jr;i-;. Now, bv this liaht, were I to get again, 
 Madam, I would not wish a better father. 
 Some sins do bear their privilege on earth, 
 And so doth yours ; your fault was not your folly : 
 Needs must vou lay your heart at his dispose, 
 Subjected tribute to commanding love, 
 Asrainst whose uiry and unmatched force 
 The awless lion could not wage the fight, 
 Nor keep his princely heart from Richard's hand. 
 He, that perforce robs lions of their hearts, 
 Mav easily win a woman's. Ay, my mother, 
 \Vhh all my heart I thank thee for my father ! 
 Who lives and dares but say, thou didst not well 
 When I was got, I'll send his soul to hell. 
 Come, lady, I will show thee to my kin ; 
 
 And they shall say, when Richard me begot, 
 If thou had'st said him nay, it had been sin : 
 
 Who says it ivas, he lies ; I say, 'twas not. [Exe. 
 
 ACT II. 
 
 /.France. Before the walls of An- 
 giers. Enter, on one side, the Archduke of Aus- 
 tria, and forces; on the other, Philip, King oj 
 France, and forces ; Lewis, Constance, Arthur, 
 and attendants. 
 
 Lev;. Before Angiers well met, brave Austria. 
 Arthur, that -^reat forerunner of thy blood, 
 Rich;ird, that robb'd the lion of his heart, 
 And fought the holy wars in Palestine, 
 By this brave dake came early to his grave : 
 And, for amends to his posterity, 
 At our importance,' hither is he come, 
 To spread his colours, boy, in thy behalf; 
 And to rebuke the usurpation 
 Of thy unnatural uncle, English John : 
 Embrace him, love him, give him welcome hither. 
 
 ilrth. God shall forgive you Cceur-de-Iion's deatli , 
 The rather, that you give" his offspring life, 
 Shadowing their right under your wings of war: 
 I give you welcome with a powerless hand, 
 But with a heart full of unstained love : 
 Welcome before the gates of Anglers, duke. 
 
 Lno. A noble boy ! Who would not do thee right ? 
 
 .Just. Upon thy cheek lay I this zealous kiss, 
 As seal to this indenture of my love ; 
 That to my home I will no more return, 
 Till Angiers, and the right thou hast in France, 
 Together with that pale, that white-fac'd shore, 
 Whose foot spurns back the ocean's roaring tides, 
 And coops from other lands her islanders, 
 Even till that England, hedg'd in with the main, 
 That water-walled bulwark, still secure 
 
 (6) A character in an old drama, called Soliman 
 and Perseda. 
 
 (7) Importunity.
 
 342 
 
 KING JOHN. 
 
 Jc< 77. 
 
 And confident from foreign purposes, jWhiles we, God's wrathful agent, do correct 
 
 Even till that utmost corner of the west ; Their proud contempt that beat his peace to heaven. 
 
 Salute thee for her king : till then, fair boy, j K. Phi. Peace be to England ; ii' that war returri 
 
 Will I not think of home, but follow arms. [From France to England, there to live in peace ! 
 
 Const. O, take his mother's thanks, a widow's England we love ; ;ind, for that England's sake, 
 
 thanks, Wiih burden of our armour here we sweat: 
 
 Till your strong hand shall helpto give him strength, This toil of ours should be a work of thine ; 
 To make a more requital to your love. But thou from loving England art so far, 
 
 Just. The peace of heaven is theirs, that liftlThat thou hast under-wrought 5 his lawful king, 
 
 their swords jCut off the sequence of posterity, 
 
 Li such a just and charitable war. Outfaced infant state, and done a rape 
 
 A". PA?. Well then, to work: our cannon shall Upon the maiden virtue of the crown. 
 
 Look here upon thy brother Geffrey's face ; 
 These eyes, these brows, were moulded out of his : 
 
 be bent 
 
 Against the brows of this resisting town. 
 Cull for our chiefest men of discipline, 
 To cell the plots of best, advantages : J 
 "We'll lay before thi 
 Wade to the marke: 
 But we will make it , 
 
 Const. Stay for an answer to your embassy, | And this is Geffrey's : In the name of God, 
 Lest unadvised you stain your swords with blood : jHow comes it then, that thou art call'd a king, 
 
 This little abstract doth contain that large, 
 jWhich died in Geffrey ; and the hand of th 
 lis town our royal bones, jShall draw this brief 7 into as huge a volume, 
 
 el-place in Frenchmen's blood, That Geffrey was thy elder brother horn, 
 it subject to this boy. And this his son ; England was Geffrey'.-* rig! 
 
 My lord Chatillon may from England brin 
 That right in peace, which here we urge in war ; 
 And then we shall repent each drop of blood, 
 That hot rash haste so indirectly shed. 
 
 Enter Chatillon. 
 
 When living blood doth in these temples beat, 
 Which owe the crown that thou o'cr-mastereat? 
 K. Joh,i. From nhora hast thou this great com- 
 mission, France, 
 
 | To draw my answer from thy articles ? 
 
 K. Phi. From that supernal 3 judge, that 
 
 ou ? hts 
 
 stirs 
 
 K. PJ:!. A wonder, ladv ! lo, upon thy wish, . K ou ? ts 
 
 Our me.sea.ror Chatillon Is arriv'd.- , '? a "- v , 1)! .' c ; lst "' V, ro . n?: !l " {ilor . !t 3 r . 
 
 o look into the biota and stains 
 
 Whose leisure I have staid, have p-ivcn him lime 
 To land his legions all as soon as I : 
 liis marches are expedient- to this town, 
 His forces strong, his soldier? confident. 
 With him along is come the mother-queen, 
 An Ate 1 ," stirring him to blood and strife ; 
 With her her niece, the lady Blanch of Spain ; 
 With them a bastard of the king deceas'd : 
 And all the unsettled humours of the land, 
 TJish, inconsiderate, fiery voluntaries 
 
 ELI. \\ iu is it. thou dost call UMirper, France 1 
 
 (!o:tnt. Let. me make answer ; thy usurpinsr son. 
 
 Eli. Out, insolent ! thy bastard .-hall be. kin:.' ; 
 That thou niay'st be a queen, and check the world ! 
 
 Const. My bed was ever lo thy son as true, 
 | As thine was to thy husband : and this boy 
 I Like r in feature lo his father Geffrey, 
 (Than thou and John in manners ; b'eing as like, 
 As rain to wafer, or devil to his dam. 
 My boy a bastard ! Bv my soul, I think, 
 
 ri' p._li ' . i ' 
 
 >ii?u. un;uiiaiui;iavc i;.'J y VIUIIUMIGO. ITI' ..-* 11. i 
 
 With ladies' faces, and fierce dragons' spleens, \ s lath f. never was so true begot ; 
 
 Have sold their fortunes at their native homes, II n c > an lf lho . u w " 1 hls , mo( 
 
 i> ... .1 i_- .1 _ i.. . ____ii ii__. i_. i PM. 1 here s a "rinn mot nor. hov. 
 
 Bearing their birthrights proudly en their backs, 
 To make a hazard of new fortunes here. 
 In brief, a braver choice of dauntless spirits, 
 Than now the English bottoms have waft o'er, 
 Did never float upon the swelling tide, 
 To dp offence and scath 4 in Christendom. 
 The interruption of their churlish drums 
 
 [Drums beat. 
 
 Cuts off more circumstance : they are at hand, 
 To parley, or to fight ; therefore, prepare. 
 
 A. Phi. How much unlook'd for is this expedi- 
 tion ! 
 
 .lust. By how much unexpected, by so much 
 W r e must awake endeavour for defence ; 
 For courage mounteth with occasion : 
 Let them alone be welcome then, we are prepar'd. 
 Enter King John, Elinor, Blanch, the Bastard, 
 Pembroke, and forces. 
 
 K. John. Peace be to France ; if France in 
 
 peace permit 
 
 Our just and lineal entrance to our own ! 
 If not ; bleed France, and peace ascend to heaven ! 
 
 (1) Best stations to over-awe the town. 
 
 (2^ Immediate, expeditious. 
 
 f3) The goddess of revenge, (1) Mifchicf. 
 
 i mother. 
 Eli. There's a good mother, boy, that blots thy 
 
 father. 
 Const. There's a good grandam, boy, that 
 
 would blot thee. 
 .lust. Peace ! 
 
 Bast. Hear the crier. 
 
 "lust. What the devil art thou 1 
 
 Bust. One that will play the devil, sir, with 
 
 you, 
 
 An 'a may catch your hide and you alone. 
 You arc the hare of whom the proverb goes. 
 Whose valour plucks dead lions by the beard; 
 I'll smoke your skin-coat, 3 an I ca'ch you right ; 
 Sirrah, look to't; i'faith, I will, i'faith. 
 
 Blanch. O, well did he become that lion's robe, 
 That did disrobe the lion of that robe ! 
 
 Bast. It, lies as sightly on the back of him, 
 As great Alcides' shoes upon an ass : 
 But, ass. I'll take that burden from your back; 
 Or lay on that, shall make your shoulders crack. 
 3ust. What cracker is this same, that dcafs oui 
 
 ears 
 With this abundance of superfluous breath? 
 
 (5) Undermined. (G) Succession. 
 
 (7| A short writing. (8) Celestial. 
 
 '9 ) Austria wears a lion's skin,
 
 Seeftf I. 
 
 KING JOHN. 
 
 343 
 
 K. PJii. Lewis, determine what \ve shall do ! Our trumpet eall'd you to this gentle park. 4 
 
 straight. 
 
 Lew. Women and fools, break off your confer- 
 ence. 
 
 King John, this is the very sum of all, 
 England, and Ireland, Anjou, Touraine, Maine, 
 In right of Arthur do I claim of thee : 
 Wilt thou resign them, and lay down thy arms ? 
 
 K. John. My life as soon : I do defy thee, 
 
 France. 
 
 Arthur of Bretagne, yield thee to my hand ; 
 And, out of my dear love, I'll give thee more 
 Than e'er the coward hand of France can win : 
 Submit thee, boy. 
 
 Eli. Come to thy grandam, child. 
 
 Const. Do, child, go to it' grandam, child ; 
 Give grandam kingdom, and it' grandam will 
 Give it a plum, a cherry, and a fig : 
 There's a good grandam. 
 
 Jlrth. Good my mother, peace ! 
 
 I would, that I were low laid in my grave ; 
 
 I am not worth this coil 1 that's made for me. 
 
 Eli. His mother shames him so, poor boy, he 
 
 weeps. 
 Const. Now shame upon you, whe'r 2 she does, 
 
 or no ! 
 
 I 1 is grandam' s wrongs, and not his mother's shames, 
 Draw those heaven-moving pearls from his poor 
 
 eyes, 
 
 Which heaven shall take in nature of a fee ; 
 Ay, with these crystal beads heaven shall be brib'd 
 To do him justice, and revenge on you. 
 
 Eli. Thou monstrous slanderer of heaven and 
 earth ! 
 
 Const. Thou monstrous injurer of heaven and 
 
 earth ! 
 
 Call not me slanderer: Ihou, and thine, usurp 
 The dominations, royalties, and rights, 
 Of this oppressed boy : This is thy eldest son's son, 
 Infortunr.te in nothing but in thee ; 
 Thy sins are visited in this poor child ; 
 The canon of the law is laid on him, 
 Being but the second generation 
 Removed from thy sin-conceiving womb. 
 
 K. John. Bedlam, have done. 
 
 Const. I have but this to say, 
 
 That he's not only plagued for her sin, 
 But God hath ma'de her sin and her the plague 
 On this removed issue, plagu'd for her, 
 And with her plague, her sin ; his injury 
 Her injury, the beadle to her sin ; 
 All puiush'd in the person of this child, 
 And all for her ; A plague upon her ! 
 
 Eli. Thou unadvised scold, I can produce 
 A will, that bars the title of thy son. 
 
 Const. Ay, who doubts that ? a will ! a wicked will ; 
 A woman's will ; a cankcr'd grandam's will ! 
 
 K. Phi. Peace, lady ; pause, or be more tempe- 
 rate : 
 
 It ill beseems this presence, to cry aim- 1 
 To these ill-tuned repetitions. 
 Some trumpet summon hither to the walls 
 These men of Anglers ; let us hear them speak, 
 Whose title they admit, Arthur's or John's. 
 
 Trumpets sound. Enter Citizens upon the walls. 
 
 1 Cil. Who is it, that hath warn'd us to the walls ? 
 
 K. Phi. 'Tis France, for England. 
 
 K. John. England, for itself: 
 
 Vou men of Angiers, and my loving subjects, 
 
 K. Phi. You loving men of Angiers, Arthur's 
 subjects, 
 
 (1) Bustle. (2) Whether. (3) To encpurage. 
 
 K. John. For our advantage ; Therefore, hear 
 
 us first. 
 
 These flags of France, that are advanced here 
 Before the eye and prospect of your town, 
 Have hither march'd to your endamagement : 
 The cannons have their Dowels full of wrath ; 
 And ready mounted are they, to spit forth 
 Their iron indignation 'gainst your walls : 
 All preparation for a bloody siege, 
 And merciless proceeding by these French, 
 Confront your city's eyes, your winking gates ; 
 And,, but ibr our approach, those sleeping stones, 
 That as a waist do girdle you about, 
 By the compulsion of their ordnance 
 By this time from their fixed beds of lime 
 Had been dishabited, and wide havoc made 
 For bloody power to rush upon your peace. 
 But, on the sight of us, your lawful king, ' 
 Who painfully, with much expedient march, 
 Have brought a countercheck before your gates, 
 To save unscratch'd your city's threaten'd cheeks, 
 Behold, the. French, aihaz'd, vouchsafe aparle: 
 And now, instead of bullets wrapp'd in fire, 
 To make a shaking fever in your walls. 
 They shoot but calm words, folded up in smoke, 
 To make a faithless error in your ears : 
 Which trust accordingly, kind citizens, 
 And let us in, your king ; whose labour'd spirits, 
 Fonvcaried 5 in this action of swift speed, 
 Crave harbourage within your city walls. 
 
 K. Phi. When I have said, make answer to us 
 
 both. 
 
 Lo, in this right hand, whose protection 
 Is most divinely vow'd upon the right 
 Of him it holds, stands young Plantagenet ; 
 Son to the elder brother of this man, 
 And king o'er him, and all that he enjoys : 
 For tiiis down-trodden equity, we tread 
 In warlike march these greens before your town : 
 Being no further enemy to you, 
 Than the constraint of hospitable zeal, 
 In the relief of this oppressed child, 
 Religiously provokes. Be pleased then 
 To pay that duty, which you truly owe, 
 To him that owes it ; namely, this young prince : 
 And then our arms, like to a muzzled bear, 
 Save in aspect, have all offence seal'd up ; 
 Our cannons' malice vainly shall be spent . 
 Against the invulnerable clouds of heaven ; 
 And, with a blessed and unvex'd retire, 
 With unhaek'd swords, and helmets all unbruis'd, 
 We will bear home that lusty blood again, 
 Which here we came to spout against your town, 
 And leave your children, wives, and you, in peace. 
 But if you fondly pass our proffer'd offer, 
 'Tis not the rondure' of your old-fac'd walls 
 Can hide you from our messengers of war ; 
 Though all these English, and their discipline, 
 Were harbour'd in their rude circumference. 
 Then, tell us, shall your city call us lord, 
 In that behalf which we have challeng'd it? 
 Or shall we give the signal to our rage, 
 And stalk in blood to our possession i . 
 
 1 Cit. In brief, we are the king of England's 
 
 subjects ; 
 For him, and in his right, we hold this town. 
 
 K. John. Acknowledge then the king, and let 
 me in. 
 
 1 Cit. That can we not : but he that proves the 
 king, 
 
 Conference. 
 Owns. 
 
 (5) Worn out. 
 (?) Circle.,
 
 344 
 
 KING JOHN. 
 
 Jet 11, 
 
 To him will we prove loyal ; till thai time, 
 Have we ramm'd up our gates against the world. 
 K. John, Doth not the crown of England prove 
 
 the king ? 
 
 And, if not that, I bring you witnesses, 
 Twice fifteen thousand hearts of England's breed, 
 Bast, Bastards, and else. 
 K. John, To verify our title with their lives. 
 K. Phi, As many, and as well-born bloods as 
 
 those, 
 
 Bast. Some bastards too. 
 
 K. Phi. Stand in his face, to contradict his claim. 
 1 Cit. Tillyoucompoundwhoserightisworthiest, 
 We, for the worthiest, hold the right from both. 
 K.John. Then God forgive the sin of all those 
 
 souls, 
 
 That to their everlasting residence, 
 Before the dew of evening fall, shall fleet, 
 In dreadful trial of our kingdom's king ! 
 K. Phi. Amen, Amen ! Mount, chevaliers ! to 
 
 arms ! 
 Bast, St. George, that swing'd the dragon, and 
 
 e'er since, 
 
 Sits on his horseback at mine hostess' door, 
 Teach us some fence ! Sirrah, were I at home, 
 At your den, sirrah, [To Austria,] with your 
 
 lioness, 
 
 I'd set an ox head to your lion's hide, 
 And make a monster of you. 
 
 Peace ; no more. 
 
 Bast. 0, tremble ; for you hear the lion roar. 
 K. John. Up higher to the plain ; where we'll 
 
 set forth, 
 
 In best appointment, all our regiments. 
 Bast. Speed then, to take advantage of the field. 
 K. Phi, It shall be so ; [To Lewis.] and at the 
 
 other hill 
 Command the rest to stand. God, and our right ! 
 
 SCENE II. The same. Alarums and Excur- 
 sions ; then a Retreat. Enter a French Herald, 
 with trumpets, to the gates. 
 F. Her. You men of Angiers, open wide your 
 gates, 
 
 And let young Arthur, duke of Bretagne, in ; 
 
 Who, by the hand of France, this day hath made 
 
 Much work for tears in many an English mother, 
 
 Whose sons lie scatter'd on the bleeding ground : 
 
 Many a widow's husband grovelling lies, 
 
 Coldly embracing the discolour'd earth ; 
 
 And victory, with little loss, doth play 
 
 Upon the dancing banners of the French ; 
 
 Who are at hand, triumphantly display'd, 
 
 To enter conquerors, and to proclaim 
 
 Arthur of Bretagne, England's king, and yours. 
 
 Enter an English Herald, with trumpets. 
 
 Cit. Heralds, from off our towers we might behold, 
 From first to last, the onset and retire 
 Of both your armies ; whose equality 
 By our b'est eyes cannot be censured : l 
 Blood hath bought blood, and blows have answer'd 
 
 blows ; 
 
 Strength match'd with strength, and power con- 
 fronted power : 
 
 Both are alike ; and both alike we like. 
 One must prove greatest : while they weigh so even, 
 We hold our town for neither ; yet for both. 
 
 Enter, at one side, King John, with his power; 
 Elinor, Blanch, and the Bastard ; at the other, 
 King Philip, Lewis, Austria, and forces, 
 
 K. John. France, hast thou yet more blood to 
 
 * cast away ? 
 
 Say, shall the current of our right run on ? 
 Whose passage, vex'd with thy impediment, 
 Shall leave his native channel, and o'er-swell 
 With course disturb'd even thy confining shores ; 
 Unless thou let his silver water keep 
 A peaceful progress to the ocean. 
 
 K. Phi. England, thou hast not sav'd one drop 
 
 of blood, 
 
 In this hot trial, more than we of France ; 
 Rather, lost more : And by this hand I swear, 
 That sways the earth this climate overlooks, 
 Before we will lay down our just-borne arms, 
 We'll put thee down, 'gainst whom these arms we 
 
 bear, 
 
 Or add a royal number to the dead ; 
 Gracing the scroll, that tells of this war's loss, 
 With slaughter coupled to the name of kings. 
 
 Bast. Ha, majesty! how high thy glory tower?, 
 When the rich blood of kings is set on fire ! 
 O, now doth death line his dead chaps with sleel ; 
 The swords of soldiers are his teeth, his fangs ; 
 And now he feasts, mouthing the flesh of men, 
 In undetermin'd differences of kings. 
 Why stand these royal fronts amazed thus 1 
 Cry, havoc, kings ! back to the stained field, 
 You equal patents, 2 fiery-kindled spirits ! 
 Then let confusion of one part confirm 
 
 The other's peace; till then, blows, blood, and 
 
 death ! 
 K. John. Whose party do the townsmen yet 
 
 admit? 
 K. Phi. Speak, citizens, for England ; who's 
 
 your king ? 
 1 Cit. The king of England, when we know the 
 
 king. 
 K. Phi. Know him in us, that here hold up his 
 
 right. 
 
 K. John. In us ? that are our own great deputy, 
 And bear possession of our person here; 
 'Lord of our presence, Angiers, and of you. 
 
 1 Cit. A greater power than we, denies all this ; 
 E. Her, Rejoice, you men of Angiers, ring your And, till it be undoubted, we do lock 
 
 bells ; 
 
 King John, your king and England's, doth approach, 
 Commander of this not malicious day ! 
 Their armours, that march'd hence so silver-bright, 
 Hither return all gilt with Frenchmen's blood ; 
 There stuck no plume in any English crest, 
 That is removed by a staff of France ; 
 Our colours do return in those same hands 
 That did display them when we first march'd forth ; 
 And, like a jolly troop of huntsmen, come 
 Our lusty English, all with purpled hands, 
 Dyed in the dying slaughter of their foes : 
 Open your gates, and give the victors way. 
 
 (1) Judged, determined. (2) Potentates. 
 
 nUJU| till lb UC UllUUUUICUy WO UU JUCii 
 
 Our former scruple in our strong-barr'd gates : 
 King'd of our fears ; until our fears, resolv'd, 
 Be by some certain king purg'd and depos'd. 
 Bast . By heaven, these scroyles 3 of Angiers flout 
 
 you, kings ; 
 
 And stand securely on their battlements, 
 As in a theatre, whence they gape and point 
 At your industrious scenes and acts of death. 
 Your royal presences be rul'd by me ; 
 Do like the mutines 4 of Jerusalem. 
 Be friends a while, and both conjointly bend 
 Your sharpest deeds of malice on this 'town : 
 By east and west let France and England mount 
 
 (3) Scabby fellows. (4) Mutineers.
 
 Scene I. 
 
 KING JOHN. 
 
 315 
 
 Their battering cannon, charged to the mouths ; 
 
 Till their soul-fearing clamours have brawl'd down 
 
 The flinty ribs of this contemptuous city : 
 
 I'd play incessantly upon these jades, 
 
 Even till unfenced desolation 
 
 Leave them as naked as the vulgar air. 
 
 That done, dissever your united strengths, 
 
 And part your mingled colours once again ; 
 
 Turn face to face, and bloody point to point : 
 
 Then, in a moment, fortune shall cull forth 
 
 Out of one side her happy minion ; 
 
 To whom in favour she shall give the day, 
 
 And kiss him with a glorious victory. 
 
 How like you this wild counsel, mighty states ? 
 
 Smacks it not something of the policy / 
 
 K. John. Now, by the sky Uiat hangs above our 
 
 heads, 
 
 I like it well ; France, shall we knit our powers, 
 And lay this Anglers even with the ground ; 
 Then, after, fight who shall be king of it / 
 
 Bast. An if thou hast the mettle of a kin?, 
 Being wrong'd, as we are, by this peevish town, 
 Turn" thou the mouth of thy artillery, 
 As we will ours, against these saucy walls : 
 And when that we nave dash'd them to the ground, 
 Why, then defy each other ; and, pell-mell, 
 Make work upon ourselves, for heaven, or hell. 
 
 K. Phi. Let it be so: Say, where will you 
 assault? 
 
 K. John. We from the west will scud destruction 
 Into the city's bosom. 
 
 .fttsf. I from the north. 
 
 K. Phi. Our thunder from the south, 
 
 Shall rain their drift of bullets on this town. 
 
 Bast. O prudent discipline ! From north to south, 
 Austria and France shoot in each other's mouth : 
 
 I'll stir them to it : Come, away, away ! 
 
 1 Cit. Hear us, great kings : vouchsafe a while 
 
 to stay, 
 
 And I shall show you peace, and fair-faced league ; 
 Win you this city without stroke, or wound ; 
 Rescue those breathing lives to die in beds, 
 That here come sacrifices for the field : 
 PerseVer not. but hear me, mighty kings. 
 
 K. John. Speak on, with favour ; we are bent 
 to hear. 
 
 1 Cit. That daughter there of Spain, the lady- 
 Blanch, 
 
 Is near to England ; Look upon the years 
 Of Lewis the Dauphin, and that lovely maid : 
 If lusty love should go in quest of beauty, 
 Where should he find it fairer than in Blanch ? 
 If zealous 1 love should go in search of virtue, 
 Where should he find it purer than in Blanch ? 
 If love ambitious sought a match of birth, 
 Whose veins bound richer blood than lady Blanch ? j 
 
 Such as she is, in beauty, virtue, birth, 
 
 Is the young Dauphin every way complete : 
 
 If not complete, say, he is not she ; 
 
 And she again wants nothing, to name want, 
 
 If want it be not, that she is not he : 
 
 He is the half part of a blessed man, 
 
 Left to be finished by such a she ; 
 
 And she a fair divided excellencej 
 
 Whose fulness of perfection lies in him. 
 
 O, two such silver currents, when they join, 
 
 Do glorify the banks that bound them in : 
 
 And two such shores to two such streams made one, 
 
 Two such controlling bounds shall you be, kings, 
 
 To these two princes, if you marry them. 
 
 This union shall do more than battery can, 
 
 To our fast-closed gates ; for, at this match, 
 With swifter spleen* than powder can enforce, 
 The mouth of passage shall we fling wide ope, 
 And give you entrance ; but, without this match, 
 The sea enraged is not half so deaf, 
 Lions more confident, mountains and rocks 
 More free from motion ; no, not death himself 
 In mortal fury half so peremptory, 
 As we to keep this city. 
 
 ast. Here's a stay, 
 
 That shakes the rotten carcase of old "death 
 Out of his rags ! Here's a large mouth, indeed, 
 That spits forth death, and mountains, rocks, and 
 
 Sf.vs ; 
 
 Talks as familiarly of roaring lions, 
 As maids of thirteen do of puppy-dogs ! 
 What cannoneer begot this lusty blood ? 
 He speaks plain cannon, lire, and smoke, and 
 
 bounce ; 
 
 He gives the bastinado with his tongue 
 Our ears are cudgcFd ; not a word of his, 
 But buffets better than a fist of France : 
 Zounds ! I was never so bethump'd with words, 
 Since I lirst call'd my brother's lather, dad. 
 
 Eli. Son, list to this conjunction, make this match ; 
 Give with our niece a dowry large enough : 
 For by this knot thou shall so surely tie 
 Thy now unsur'd assurance to the crown, 
 That yon green boy shall have no sun to ripe 
 The bicom that promiselh a mighty fruit. 
 I see a yielding in the looks of France ; 
 .Mark, how they whisper: urge them, while their 
 
 soals 
 
 Are capable of this ambition : 
 Lest zeal, now melted, by (he windy breath 
 Of soft petitions, pity, and remorse, 
 Cool and congeal again to what it was. 
 
 1 Cit. Why answer not the double majesties 
 This friendly treaty of our threaten'd town ? 
 
 K. Pki. Speak "England first, that hath been 
 
 forward first 
 To speak unto this city : W r hat say you ? 
 
 K. John. If that the Dauphin there, thy princely 
 
 son, 
 
 Can in this book of beauty read, I love, 
 Her dowry shall weigh equal with a queen : 
 For Anjou, and fair Touraine, Maine, and Poictiers, 
 And all that we upon this side the sea 
 (Except this city new by us besieg'd,) 
 Find-liable to our crown and dignity, 
 Shall gild her bridal bed ; and make her rich 
 In titles, honours, and promotions. 
 As she in beauty, education, blood, 
 Holds hand with any princess of the world. 
 
 A". Phi. What say'st thou, boy ? look in the lady's 
 face. 
 
 Lew. I do, my lord, and in her eye I find 
 
 (I) Pious. 
 
 (2) Speed. 
 
 (3) Picture. 
 
 : A wonder, or a wondrous miracle, 
 
 I The shadow of myself form'd in her eye ; 
 
 I Which, being but the shadow of your son, 
 
 j Becomes a sun, and makes your son a shadow : 
 
 I 1 do protest, I never lov'd myself, 
 
 Till now infixed I beheld myself, ' 
 
 Drawn in the flattering table 3 of her eye. 
 
 [Whispers u'itH Blanch. 
 
 Bast. Drawn in the flattering table of her eye ! 
 Hang'd in the frowning wrinkle of her brow ! 
 And quarterd in her heart ! he doth espy 
 
 Himself love's traitor : This is pity now, 
 That hang'd, and drawn, and quarter'd, there 
 
 should be, 
 In such a love, so vile a lout as he. 
 
 Blanch. My uncle's will, in this respect, is mine x 
 If he sec aught in you, that makes him like, 
 2X
 
 346 
 
 KING JjOHN. 
 
 Act III. 
 
 That any thing he sees, which mores his liking, 
 I can with ease translate it to my will ; 
 Or, if you will, (to speak more properly,) 
 J will enforce it easily to my love. 
 Further I will not flatter you, my lord, 
 That all I see in you is worthy love, 
 Than this, that nothing do I see in you 
 (Though churlish thoughts themselves should be 
 
 your judge,) 
 That I can find should merit any hate. 
 
 K. John. What say these young ones ? What 
 say vou, my niece ? 
 
 Blanch. Tnat she is bound in honour still to do 
 What you in wisdom shall vouchsafe to say. 
 
 K. John. Speak then, prince Dauphin ; can you 
 love this lady ? 
 
 Lew. Nay, aslc me if I can refrain from love, 
 For I do love her most unfeignedly. 
 
 A'. John. Then do I give Volquessen, Touraine, 
 
 Maine, 
 
 Poictiers, and Anjou, these five provinces, 
 With her to thee ; and this addition morCj 
 Full thirty thousand marks of English coin. 
 Philip of Franco, if thou be pleas'd withal, 
 Command thy son and dauglit.fr to join hands. 
 
 K. Phi. It likes us well ; Young princes, close 
 your hands. 
 
 Just. And your lips too ; for, I am well assur'cl, 
 That I did so," when I was lirst assur'd. 1 
 
 K. Phi. Now, citizens of Angiers, ope your gates, 
 Let in that amity which you have made ; 
 For at saint Mary's chapel, presently, 
 The rites of marriage shall be solemniz'd. 
 Is not the lady Constance in this troop ? 
 I know, she is not ; for this match, made up, 
 Her presence would have interrupted much : 
 Where is she and her son ? tell me, who knows. 
 
 Lew. She is sad and passionate 2 at your high- 
 ness' tent. 
 
 K. Phi. And, by my faith, this league, that we 
 
 have made, 
 
 Will give her sadness very little cure. 
 Brother of England, how may we content 
 This widow ladv ? In her right we came ; 
 Which we, God knows, have turned another way, 
 
 To our own vantage. 3 
 K. John. 
 
 We will heal up all : 
 
 That smooth-faced gentleman, tickling commo- 
 dity, 5 
 
 Commodity, the bias of the world ; 
 The world, who of itself is peised 6 well, 
 Made to run even, upon even ground ; 
 Till this advantage, this vile drawing bias, 
 This sway of motion, this commodity, 
 Makes it take head from all indiflerency, 
 From all direction, purpose, course, intent : 
 And this same bias, this commodity, 
 This bawd, this broker, this all-changing word, 
 Clapp'd on the outward eye of fickle France, 
 Hath drawn him from his own determin'd aid, 
 From a resolv'd and honourable war, 
 To a most base and vile-concluded peace. 
 And why rail I on this commodity ? 
 But for because he hath not woo'd me yet : 
 Not that I have (he power to clutch' my hand, 
 When his fair angels 8 would salute my palm : 
 But for my hand, as unattempted yet, 
 Like a poor beggar, raileth on the rich. 
 Well, whiles I am a beggar, I will rail, 
 And say, there is no sin, but to be rich ; 
 And being rich, my virtue then shall be, 
 To say, there is no vice, but beggary : 
 Since kings break faith upon commodity, 
 Gain, be my lord ! for I will worship thee ! [Exit. 
 
 ACT III. 
 
 SCENE I. The same. The French king's ttnt. 
 Enter Constance, Arthur, and Salisbury. 
 
 Const. Gone to be married ! gone to swear a 
 
 peace ! 
 False blood to false blood join'd ! Gone to be 
 
 friends ! 
 
 Shall Lewis have Blanch ? and Blanch those pro- 
 vinces ? 
 
 It is not so ; thou hast misspoke, misheard ; 
 Be well advis'd. tell o'er thy tale a<rain : 
 It cannot be ; thou dost but say, 'tis so : 
 I trust, I may not trust thee ; for thy word 
 Is but the vain breath of a common man : 
 Believe me, I do not believe thee, man ; 
 I have a king's oath to the contrary. 
 
 T^'hrm chtilt lift rtricVi'/l Cf\f tt-tiie Pi-I^Vi 
 
 For we'll create young Arthur duke of Bretasrne, 
 
 And earl of Richmond ; and this rich fair town 
 
 We make him lord of. Call the lady Constance; 
 
 Some speedy messenger bid her repair 
 
 To our solemnity: I trust we shall, 
 
 If not fill up the measure of her will, 
 
 Yet in some measure satisfy her so, 
 
 That we shall stop her exclamation. 
 
 Go we, as well as haste will suffer us, 
 
 To this unlook'd for, unpreoared pomp. 
 
 [Exeunt all but thf Bastard. The Citizens Why dost thou look so sadly on my son ? 
 
 retire from the walls. What means that hand upon that breast of thine ? 
 
 Bast. Mad world! mad kings! mad composition!! Why holds thine eye that lamentable rheum, 
 John, to stop Arthur's title in the whole, I Like a proud river'peering 10 o'er his bounds ? 
 
 Hath willingly departed with a part : (Be these sad signs confirmers of thy words ? 
 
 And France (whose armo_ur conscience buckled on ; Then speak again ; not all thv former tale, 
 
 j Thou shall be punish'd for thus friirhting me, 
 
 For I am sick, and capable' of fenrs : 
 
 Oppress'd with wrongs, and therefore full of fears; 
 
 A widow, husbandless, subject to fears ; 
 
 A woman, naturally born to fears ; 
 
 And though thou now confess, thou didst but jest, 
 
 With my vex'd spirits I cannot take a truce, 
 
 But they will quake and tremble all this day. 
 j What dost thou mean bv shaking of thy head ? 
 
 Whom zeal and charity brought to the field, 
 As God's own soldier,) rounded 4 in the ear 
 With that same purpose-changer, that sly devil ; 
 That broker, that still breaks the pate of faith ; 
 That daily break-vow ; he that wins of all, 
 Of kings, of beggars, old men, young men, maids ; 
 Who having no external thing; to lose 
 But the word maid, cheats the poor maid of that; 
 
 (1) Affianced. (2) Mournful. (3) Advantage. 
 (4) Conspired, (5) Interest. 
 
 But this one word, whether thy tale be true. 
 
 Sal. As true, as, I believe, you think them false, 
 Tliat give vou cause to prove my saying true. 
 
 Const. 0, if thou teach me to believe this sorrow, 
 Teach thou this sorrow how to make me die ; 
 And let belief and life encounter so, 
 As doth the fury of two desperate men, 
 Which, in the very meeting, fall, and die. 
 
 (6) Poised, balanced. (7) Clasp. 
 
 (S) Coin, (9) Susceptible. (10) Appearing.
 
 Scene. I. 
 
 RING JOHN. 
 
 347 
 
 Lewis marry Blanch ! O, boy, tiien where art them ? K. Phi. By heaven, lady, you shall have no cause 
 France friend with England! what becomes of To curse the fair proceedings of this day: 
 
 me ? Have I not pawn'd to you my majesty ? 
 
 Fellow, be gone ; I cannot brook thy sight ; Const. You have beguil'd me with a counterfeit. 
 
 This news hath made thee a most ugly man. j Resembling majesty ; which, being touch'd, and 
 
 Sal. What other harm have I, good lady, done, tried, 
 
 Proves valueless : You are forsworn, forsworn ; 
 You came in arms to spill mine enemies' blood, 
 
 But spoke the harm that is by others done / 
 
 Const. Which harm within itself so heinous is, 
 As it makes harmful all that speak of it. 
 Arth. I do beseech you, madam, be content. 
 Const. If thou, that bid'st me be content, wert 
 
 grim, 
 
 Uglv, and sland'rous to thy mother's womb, 
 Fulf of unpleasing blots, and sightless 1 stains, 
 Lame, foolish, crooked, swart, prodigious, 2 
 Patch'd with foul moles, and eye-offending marks, 
 I would not care, I then would be content ; 
 For then I should not love thcc ; no, nor thou 
 Become thy great birth, nor deserve a crown. 
 But thou art fair ; and at thy birth, dear boy ! 
 Nature and fortune join'd to make thce great : 
 Of nature's "rifts thou may'st with lilies boast, 
 And with the half-blown rose : but fortune. O ! 
 She is corrupted, fhan-j'd. and won from thce ; 
 She adulterates hourly with thine uncle John ; 
 
 But now in arms you strengthen it with yours: 
 The grappling vigour and rough frown of war, 
 Is cold in amity and painted peace, 
 I And our oppression hath made up this league : 
 Ann, arm, you heavens, against these perjur'd 
 
 kings ! 
 
 A vidow cries ; be husband to me, heavens ! 
 Let not. (he hours of this ungodly day 
 Wear out the day in peace : but, ere sunset, 
 Set armed discord 'twixt these perjur'd kings ! 
 Hear me, O, hear me ! 
 
 . i.'.tst. Lady Constance, peace. 
 
 Const. War ! war ! no peace ! peace is to me 
 
 . 
 
 OLymoges! O Austria! thou dost shame 
 That bloody sjioi! : Thou slave, thou wretch, thou 
 coward ; 
 
 And with her golden hand hr-.th pluck'd on France; Thou little valiant, great in villany ! 
 
 To tread down fair respect of sovereignty, 
 And made his mnjesty the bawd to d: 
 France is a bawd to fortune, and king John ; 
 That strumpet fortune, that usurping John : 
 Tell me, thou fellow, is not France forsworn ? 
 Envenom him with words : or get thee gone, 
 And leave those woes alone, which I alone 
 Am bound to under-bear. 
 
 Sal. Pardon me, madam, 
 
 I may not go without you to the kin-rs. 
 
 Thou ever strong upon the stronger side ! 
 Thou fortune's champion, that dost never fight 
 Kut when her humorous ladyship is by 
 To (each thee .saii-iy ! thou art perjur'd too, 
 And sooth'st, up greatness. What a fool art thou, 
 A ramping fool ; to brag, and stamp, and swear, 
 Upon my party ! Thou cold-blooded slave, 
 Hast thou not spoke like thunder on my side ? 
 1 Been sworn my soldier / bidding me depend 
 1 Upon thy stars, thy forlune, and thy strength ? 
 
 Const. Thou may'st, thou shall, I will not go with And dost thou now iall over to my foes ? 
 
 thee : 
 
 I will instruct my sorrows to be proud ; 
 For grief is proud, and makes his owner stout. 
 To me, and to the state 3 of my great grief, 
 Let kings assemble ; for my grief's so great, 
 That DO supporter but the huge firm earth 
 Can hold it up : here I and sorrow sit ; 
 Here is my throne, bid kings come Bow to it. 
 
 [She throws herself on the ground. 
 
 Enter A'l/ig- John, Kin* Philip, Lewis, Blanch, 
 
 Elinor, Bastard, Austria, and atte)ti:ants. 
 K. Phi. 'Tis true, fair daughter ; and this bless- 
 ed day, 
 
 Ever in France shall be kept festival : 
 To solemnize this day, the glorious sun 
 Stays in his course, and plays the alchemist; 
 Turning, with splendour of his precious eye, 
 The meagre cloddy earth to glittering gold : 
 The yearly course, that brings this day about, 
 Shall never see it but a holyday. 
 
 Const. A wicked day, and not a holyday ! 
 
 '[Rising. 
 
 What hath this day deserv'd ? what hath it done ; 
 That it in golden letters should be set, 
 Among the high tides,* in the kalendar? 
 Nay, rather, turn this day out of the week ; 
 This day of shame, oppression, perjury: 
 Or, if it'must stand still, let wives with child 
 Pray, that their burdens may not fall this day, 
 Lest that their hopes prodigiously be cross'd : 
 But on this day, let seamen fear no wreck ; 
 No bargains break, that are not this day made : 
 This day all things begun come to ill end ; 
 Yea, faith itself to hollow falsehood change ! 
 
 IThou wear a lion's hide ! dofp it for shame, 
 And hung a calf 's-skin on those recreant limbs. 
 I .lust. 0, that a man should speak those words 
 
 to me ! 
 Bast. And hang a calf's-skin on those recreant 
 
 limbs. 
 
 ilust. Thou dar'st not say so, villain, for thy life. 
 Bast. And hang a calf's-skin on those recreant 
 
 limbs. 
 
 K. John. We like not this ; thou dost forget 
 thyself. 
 
 Enter Pandulph. 
 
 K. Phi. Here comes the holy legate of the pope. 
 
 Pand. Hail, you anointed deputies of heaven ! 
 To thee, king John, my holy errand is. 
 I Pandulph, 'of fair Milan cardinal, 
 And from pope Innocent the legate here, 
 Do, in his name, religiously demand, 
 Why thou against the church, our holy mother, 
 So wilfully dost spurn ; and, force perforce, 
 Keep Stephen Langton, chosen archbishop 
 Of Canterbury, from that holy see? 
 This, in our 'foresaid holy father's name, 
 Pope Innocent, I do demand of thee. 
 
 K. John. What earthly name to interrogatories, 
 Can task the free breath of a sacred king? 
 Thou canst not, cardinal, devise a name 
 So slight, unworthy, and ridiculous, 
 To charge me to an answer, a? the pope. 
 Tell him this tale ; and from the mouth of England^ 
 Add thus much more, That no Italian priest 
 Shall tithe or toll in our dominions ; 
 JBut as we under heaven are supreme head, 
 'So, under him, that great supremacy, 
 
 (1) Unsightly. (2) Portentous. (3) Seated in state. 
 
 (4) Solemn seasons. 
 
 (5) no off.
 
 348 
 
 KING JOHN. 
 
 3d III. 
 
 Where we do rejgn, we will alone uphold, 
 Without the assistance of a mortal hand : 
 So tell the pope ; all reverence set apart, 
 To him, and his usurp'd authority. 
 
 A'. Phi. Brother of England, you blaspheme in 
 this. 
 
 K. John. Though you, and all the kings of 
 
 Christendom," 
 
 Arc led so grossly by this meddling priest, 
 Dreading the curse that money may buy out ; 
 And, by the merit of vile gold,"dross, dust, 
 Purchase corrupted pardon of a man, 
 Who, in (hat sale, sells pardon from himself: 
 Though you, and all the rest, so grossly led, 
 This |ucgling witchcraft with revenue cherish ; 
 Vet I, alone, alone do me oppose _ , 
 
 Against the pope, and count his friends my foes. 
 
 Pond. Then, by the lawful power that I have, 
 Thou shall stand curs'd, and excommunicate : 
 And blessed shall he be, that doth revolt 
 From his allegiance to a heretic ; 
 And meritorious shall that hand be call'd, 
 Canonized, and worshiped as a saint, 
 That takes away bv anv secret course 
 Thy hateful life. 
 
 Const. O, lawful let it be, 
 
 That I have room with Home to curse a while ! 
 Good father cardinal, cry thou, amen, 
 To my keen curses : for, without my wrong, 
 
 That need must needs infer this principle, 
 
 That faith would live again by death of need ; 
 O, then, tread down mv need, and faith mounts up ; 
 Keep mv need up. and faith is trodden down. 
 K. John. The king is mov'd, and answers not 
 
 to this. 
 
 Const. O, be rcmov'd from him, and answer well. 
 ,1ust. Do so, king Philip ; hang no more in doubt. 
 Bast. Hang nothing but a calf's-skin, most sweet 
 
 lout! 
 
 ,K. Phi. I am pcrplex'd, and know not what to say. 
 Pa iid. What can'st thou say, but will perplex 
 
 thee more, 
 
 If thou stand excommunicate, and curs'd? 
 A". Phi. Good reverend father, make my person 
 
 yours, 
 
 And tell me, how you would bestow yourself. 
 This royal hand and mine are newly knit ; 
 And the conjunction of our inward souls 
 Married in league, coupled and link'd together 
 With all religious strength of sacred vows ; 
 The latest breath that gave the sound of words, 
 ,Was deep-sworn faith, peace, amity, true love, 
 j Between our kingdom*, and our royal selves ; 
 [And even before this truce, but new before, 
 | No longer than we well could wash our hands, 
 To clap this royal bargain up of peace, 
 Heaven knows, they were besmear'd and over- 
 stain'd 
 
 There is no tongue hath power to curse him right. I With slaughter's pencil ; where revenge did paint 
 Pand. There's law and warrant, lady, for my (The fearful dificrence of incensed kings: 
 
 curse. 
 
 Const. And for mine too ; when law can do no 
 right. 
 
 Let it be lawful, that law bar no wrong: 
 
 Law cannot give my child his kingdom here ; 
 
 For he, that holds his kini'dom, holds the law : 
 
 Therefore, since law itself is perfect wrong, 
 
 How can the law forbid my tongue to curse ? 
 Pand. Philip of France, on peril of a curse, 
 
 Let go the hand of that arch-heretic ; 
 
 And~raise the power of France upon his head, 
 
 Unless he do submit himself to Rome. 
 
 And shall these hands, so lately purai'd of blood, 
 So neivly join'd in love, so strong in both, 
 Unyoke this seizure, and this kind regreet? 2 
 ; Play fast and loose with faith ? so jest with heaven, 
 Make such unconstant children of ourselves, 
 As now again to snatch our palm from palm ; 
 lUnswear faith sworn ; and on the marriage bed 
 iOf smiling peace to march a bloody host, 
 j And make a riot on the gentle brow 
 Of true sincerity / holy sir, 
 My reverend father, let it not be so : 
 i Out of your grace, devise, ordain, impose 
 Eli. Look'st thou pale, France? do not let gojSome gentle order; and then we shall be blcss'd 
 thv hand. To do your pleasure, and continue friends. 
 
 Panil. All form is formless, order orderless, 
 Srivo what is opposite to England's love. 
 
 Const. Look to that, devil ! lest that France 
 repent, 
 
 :d is opposite to En<; 
 Therefore, to arms ! be champion of our church ! 
 
 And, by disjoining hands, hell lose a soul. 
 dust. King Philip, listen to the cardinal. 
 Bast. And hang a calf's-skin on his recreant' 
 
 limbs. 
 
 vfrut. Well, ruffian, I must pocket up these] A cased lion by the mortal paw, 
 wrongs, A fasting tiger safer by the tooth, 
 
 Because " [Than keep in peace that hand which thou dost hold. 
 
 Bast. Your breeches best may carry them. A". Phi. I may disjoin my hand, but not my faith. 
 
 Pand, So mak'st thou fuitli an 
 
 A'. John. Philip, what say'st thou to the car- 
 dinal ? 
 
 Const. What should he say, but as the cardinal ? 
 
 Lew. Bethink you, father ; for the difference 
 Is, purchase of a "heavy curse from Rome, 
 Or the light loss of England for a friend: 
 Forego the easier. 
 
 Blanch. That's the curse of Rome. 
 
 Const. O Lewis, stand fast ; the devil tempts 
 
 thee here, 
 In likeness of a new untrimined 1 bride. 
 
 Blanch. The lady Constance speaks not from 
 
 her faith, 
 But from her need. 
 
 Const. 0, if thou grant my need, 
 
 Which only lives but by the death of faith, 
 
 (1) 'When unadorn'd, adorn'd the most.' 
 
 Thomson's Avtmui^ 206. 
 
 n enemy to faith ; 
 
 And, like a civil war, set'st oath to oath, 
 Thy tongue against thy tongue. O, let thy vow 
 First made to heaven, first be to heaven perform'd ; 
 i That i:s, to be the champion of our church ! 
 i What since thou swor'st, is sworn against thyself. 
 And may not be performed by thyself : 
 jFor that, which tnou hast sworn to do amiss, 
 Is not amiss when it is truly done ; 
 And being not done, where doing tends to ill, 
 The truth is then most done not doing it : 
 The better act of purposes mistook 
 Is, to mistake again ; though indirect, 
 Yet indirection thereby grows direct, 
 And falsehood falsehood cures ; as lire cools fire. 
 Within the scorched veins of one new burn'd. 
 It is religion, that doth make vows kept ; 
 
 (2) Exchange of salutation.
 
 Setne III. 
 
 KING JOHN. 
 
 349 
 
 But thou hast sworn against religion ; France, I am burn'd up with inflaming wrath ; 
 
 By what thou swear'st, against the thing thou \ A rage, whose heat^hath Ibis condition, 
 
 swear'st ; 
 
 And mak'st an oath the surety for thy truth 
 Against an oalh : The Irulh thou arl unsure 
 To swear, swear only not to be forsworn ; 
 Else, what a mockery should it be to swear ! 
 But Ihou dosl swear only to be forsworn ; 
 And most forsworn, to keep what thou dosl s^vear. 
 Therefore, Ihy latter vows, against thy first, 
 Is in thyself rebellion to thyself: 
 And better conquest never canst thou make, 
 Than arm thy constant and thy nobler parts 
 Against those giddy loose suggestions : 
 Upon which better" part our prayers come in, 
 If thou vouchsafe them ; but, if not, then know, 
 The peril of our curses light on thee ; 
 So heavy, as thou shall not shake Ihem off, 
 Bui, in despair, die under their black weight. 
 
 Jlust. Rebellion, flat rebellion ! 
 
 Bast. Will't not be ? 
 
 Will not a calf's-skin stop that mouth of thine ? 
 
 Lew. Father, to arms ! 
 
 Blanch. Upon thy wedding day ? 
 
 Afrainst the blood thai thou hast married ? 
 
 That, nothing can allay, nothing but blood, 
 The blood, and dearesl-valu'd blood, of France. 
 K. Phi. Thy rage shall burn thce up, and thou 
 
 shall lurrf 
 
 To ashes, ere our blood shall quench that fire : 
 Look to thyself, thou art in jeopardy. 
 A'. John. No more than he that threats. To 
 arms let's hie ! [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE II. The same. Plains near Angiers. 
 Alarums, Excursions, Enter the Bastard, with 
 Austria's head. 
 
 Bast. Now, by my life, this day grows won- 
 drous hot; 
 
 Some airy devil hovers in the sky, 
 And pours down miscliief. Austria's head lie there ; 
 While Philip breathes. 
 
 Enter King John, Arthur, and Hubert. 
 A". John. Hubert, keep this boy: Philip, make 
 
 up: 
 
 My mother is assailed in our tent, 
 And ta'en, I fear. 
 
 'Const. 
 
 O, upon my knee, 
 
 Made hard with kneeling', I do pray to thee, 
 Thou virtuous dauphin, alter not the doom 
 
 _ . 
 
 What, shall our feast be kept with slausrhter'd men 1 Bast. My lord, I rescu'd her ; 
 
 Shall braying trumpets, and loud churlish drums, Her highness is in safety, fear you not ; 
 Clamours of hell be measures' to our pomp ? But on, my liege : for very little pains 
 O husband, hear me ! ah, alack, how new j " j11 "ring this labour to a happy end. [Exeunt. 
 
 Is husband in ray mouth! even for that name, \SCEJfE III TI-e s'tme Uanans Excur- 
 Which till this time my tongue did ne'er pronounce, Retrtat. Knfcr' Kiwr John, Elinor, 
 
 Upon my knee I bey, go not to arms Arth (/ Bastm , Hubert, and Lords. 
 
 Against mine uncle. 
 
 K. John. So shall it be ; vour grace shall stay 
 behind, [To Elinor. 
 
 jSo strongly guarded. Cousin, look not sad : 
 
 Fore-thought by heaven. [To Arthur. 
 
 Blanch. Now shall I sec thy love ; What motive: Thy jrrandam loves thee ; and thy uncle will 
 
 may As dear be to thee as thy father was. 
 
 Be stronger wilh thee than the name of wife ? ! tflr.'A. O, this will make my mother die with grief. 
 Const. That which upholdeth him that thce A". Jokn. Cousin, [To the Bastard.] away for 
 
 upholds, England ; haste before : 
 
 His honour : 0, thine honour, Lewi?, thine honour ! And, ere pur coming, see thou shake the bags 
 
 Lew. I mu?e,' J your majesty doth seem so cold, iOf hoarding; abbots : angels 4 imprisoned 
 W r hen such profound respects do pull you on. ;Sel thou nt liberty : the fat ribs of peace 
 Pand. I will denounce a curse upon his head. i Must by Iho hungry now be fed upon : 
 A". Phi. Thou shall not need : England, I'll fall; Use our commission in his utmost force. 
 
 from thee. 
 
 Const. O fair return of bnnish'd majesty ! 
 Eli. O foul revolt of French inconstancy! 
 K. John. France, thou shall rue liiis hour within 
 
 this hour. 
 Bast. Old time the clock-seller, lhal bald sexlon 
 
 time, 
 
 Is it as he will ? well Ihen, France shall rue. 
 Blanch. The sun's o'ercast with blood : Fair 
 
 day, adieu ! 
 
 Which is the side that I must vo withal ? 
 I am with both : each army hath a hand ; 
 And, in their rase, I having ho'.d of both, 
 They whirl asunder, and dismember me. 
 Husband, I cannot pray that thou may'st win ; 
 Uncle, I needs musl pray that thou may'st lose ; 
 Father, I may not wish the fortune thine ; 
 Grandam, 1 will not wish thy wishes thrive : 
 Whoever wins, on that side shall I lose ; 
 Assured loss, before the mt'tch bo play'd. 
 Lew. Lady, with me ; with me thy fortune lies. 
 Blanch. There where my fortune lives, there my 
 
 life dies. 
 
 K. John. Cousin, go draw our puissance 3 to- 
 gether. [Exit Bastard. 
 
 Bast. Bell, book, and candle, shall not drive me 
 
 back, 
 
 When gold and silver becks me to come on. 
 I leave your highness : Grandam, I will pray 
 (If ever I remember to be holy) 
 For your fair safety ; so I kiss your hand. 
 Eli. Farewell, my gentle cousin. 
 K. Jok;'.. Coz, farewell. 
 
 [Exit Bastard. 
 
 Eli. Come hither, little kinsman ; hark, a word. 
 [She takes Arthur aside. 
 K. John. Come hither, Hubert. O my gentle 
 
 Hubert, 
 
 j We owe thee much ; within this wall of flesh 
 jThere is a soul, counts thee her creditor, 
 ! And with advantage means to pay thy love : 
 'And, my good friend, thy voluntary oath 
 'Lives in this bosom, dearly cherished, 
 (iivc, me thy hand. I had a thing to say, 
 But I will lit it with some betler time. 
 By heaven, Hubert, I am almost asham'd 
 To say what good respect I have of thee. 
 Hub. I am much bounden to your majesty. 
 A*. John. Good friend, thou hast no cause to syj 
 so yet : 
 
 (I) Music for dancing. 
 
 (2) Wonder. 
 
 (3) Force. 
 
 (4) Gold coin.
 
 350 
 
 KING JOHN*. 
 
 Act IIL 
 
 But thou shalt have ; and creep time ne'er so slow, 
 
 Vet it shall come, for me to do thee good. 
 
 I had a thing to say, But let it go : 
 
 The sun is in the heaven, and the proud day, 
 
 Attended with the pleasures of the world, 
 
 Is all too wanton, and too full of gawds, 1 
 
 To give me audience : If the midnight bell 
 
 Did, with his iron tongue and brazen mouth, 
 
 Sound one unto the drowsy race of night ; 
 
 If this same were a church-yard where we stand, 
 
 And thou possessed with a thousand wrongs ; 
 
 Or if that surly spirit, melancholy, 
 
 Had bak'd thy blood, and made it. heavy-thick, 
 
 (Which, elsc,'runs tickling up and down the veins, 
 
 Making that idiot, laughter, keep men's eyes, 
 
 And strain their checks to idle merriment, 
 
 A pnssion hateful to rny purposes ;) 
 
 Or if that thou could'st see nu; without eyos, 
 
 Hear me without thine ears, and make reply 
 
 Without a tongue, usinir conceit- alone, 
 
 Without eyes, ears, and harmful sound of words ; 
 
 Then, in despite of brooded watchful day, 
 
 I would into thy bosom pour my thoughts : 
 
 But ah, I will not: Yet I love thee well ; 
 
 And, by my troth, I think, thou iov'st me well. 
 
 Hub. So well, that what you bid me under- 
 take, 
 
 Though that my death were adjunct 3 to my act, 
 By heaven, I'd do't. 
 
 A'. John. Do not I know, thon would'st? 
 
 Good Hubert, rfubert, Hubert, throw thine eye 
 On yon young boy : I'll tell thee what, my 
 
 friend, 
 
 He is a very serpent in my way : 
 And, whercsoe'er this foot of mine doth tread, 
 He lies before me : Dost thou understand me 1 
 Thou art his keeper. 
 
 Hub. And I will keep him so, 
 
 That he shall not offend your majesty. 
 
 A'. John. Death. 
 
 Hub. My lord ? 
 
 K. John. A srrave. 
 
 Hub. He shall not live. 
 
 K. John. Enough. 
 
 I could be merry now: Hubert, I love thee ; 
 Well, I'll not say what I intend for thee : 
 Remember. Madam, fare you well : 
 I'll send those powers o'er to your majesty. 
 
 Ell. My blessing go with thee ! 
 
 A'. John. For England, cousin : 
 
 Hubert shall be your man, attend on you 
 With all true duty. On toward Calais, ho ! 
 
 [Exeunt, 
 
 SCENE IV. Thf- same. The French king's 
 tent. Enter King Philip, Lewis, Pandulph, 
 and attendants. 
 
 K. Phi. So, by a roaring tempest on the flood, 
 A whole armado* of convicted 51 snil 
 Is scatter'd and disjoin'd from fellowship. 
 
 Pand. Courage and comfort! all shall yet go 
 well. 
 
 K. Phi. What can go well, when we have run 
 
 so ill ? 
 
 Are we not beaten ? Is not Anglers lost ? 
 Arthur ta'en prisoner? divers dear friends slain? 
 And bloody England into England gone, 
 O'erbearing interruption, spite of France ? 
 
 Lew. What he hath won, that hath he fortified : 
 So hot a speed with such advice dispos'd, 
 Such temperate order in so fierce a cause, 
 
 (1) Showy ornaments. 
 (3) Joined. 
 
 (2) Conception. 
 (4) Fleet of war, 
 
 Doth want example : Who hath read, or heard, 
 Of any kindred action like to this ? 
 K. 'Phi. Well could I bear that England had 
 
 this praise, 
 So we could find some pattern of our shame. 
 
 Enter Constance. 
 
 L.ookj v.-ho comes here ! a grave unto a soul ; 
 tlolclmg the eternal spirit, against her will, 
 n the vile prison of affiicted breath : 
 : pr'ythee, lady, go away with me. 
 
 Const. Lo. now ! now see the issue of your peace ! 
 
 A'. Phi. Patience, good lady! comfort, gentle 
 Constance ! 
 
 Cc nst. No, I defy all counsel, all redress, 
 3ut that which ends all counsel, true redress, 
 Death, death : O amiable lovely death ! 
 Thou odoriferous stench ! sound rottenness ! 
 \rise forth from the couch of lasting night, 
 Thou hale and terror to prosperity, 
 \nd I Avill kiss thy detestable bones ; 
 \nd put my eye-balls in thy vaulty brows ; 
 \nd ring these fingers with thy household worms ; 
 \nd stop this gap of breath with fulsome dust, 
 \nd be a carrion monster like thyself: 
 
 ome, grin on me ; and I will think thou smil'st, 
 And buss thee as thy wife ! Misery's love, 
 0. eome to me ! 
 
 K. Phi. O fiir affliction, peace. 
 
 Const. No, no, I will not, having breath to cry : 
 (), that my tongue were in the thunder's mouth ! 
 Then witn a passion would I shake the world ; 
 \nd rouse from sleep that fell anatomy, 
 Which cannot hear a lady's feeble voice, 
 Which scorns a modern' invocation 
 
 Pand. Lady, you utter madness, and not. sorrow. 
 
 Const. Thou art not holy to belie me so ; 
 [ am not mad : this hair I tear, is mine ; 
 \ly name is Constance ; I was Geffrey's wife ; 
 Young Arthur is my son, and he is lost : 
 [ am not mad ; I would to heaven, I were ! 
 For then, 'tis like I should forget myself: 
 I), if I could, what grief should I forget ! 
 Preach some philosophy to make me"mad, 
 And thou shalt be canoniz'd, cardinal ; 
 For, being not mad, but sensible of grief, 
 My reasonable part produces reason 
 How I may be deliver'd of these woes, 
 And teaches me to kill or hang myself; 
 [f I were mad, I should forget my son ; 
 Or madly think, a babe of clouts were he : 
 I am not mad ; too well, too well I feel 
 
 he different plague of each calamity. 
 
 A'. Phi. Bind up those tresses : O, what love I 
 
 note 
 
 In the fair multitude of those her hairs ! 
 Where but by chance a silver drop hath fallen, 
 Even to that drop ten thousand wiry friends 
 Do glew themselves in sociable grief; 
 Like true, inseparable, faithful loves, 
 Sticking together in calamity. 
 
 Const. To England, if you will. 
 
 K. Phi. Bind up your hairs. 
 
 Con.it. Yes, that I \yill ; and wherefore will I do it ? 
 I tore them from their bonds ; and cried aloud, 
 O that these hands could .'o redeem my son, 
 .fo they have given these hairs their liberty ! 
 But now I envy at their liberty, 
 And will again commit them to their bonds, 
 
 Because my poor child is a prisoner. 
 
 And, father cardinal, I have heard you say, 
 That we shall see and know our friends in 'heaven : 
 
 (5) Overcome. (6) Refuse, (7). Common,
 
 Seene 1. 
 
 KING JOHN. 
 
 If that be true, I shall see my boy again ; 
 For, since the birth of Cain, the first male child, 
 To him that did but yesterday suspire, 1 
 There was not such a gracious 2 creature born. 
 But now v.ill canker sorrow eat my bud, 
 And c\\;i? the native beauty from his cheek, 
 And he v.ill look as hollow as a gin 
 As dim and meagre as an ague's fit ; 
 And so he'll die ; and, rising so again, 
 When I shall meet him in the court of heaven, 
 I shall not know him : therefore never, never 
 Must I behold mv pretty Arthur more. 
 
 Pond. You hofd foo heinous a respect of grief. 
 
 Const. He talks to me, that never had a son. 
 
 A'. Phi. You are as fond of grief, as of your child. 
 
 Const. Grief fills the room up of my absent child, 
 Lies in his bed, walks up and down with me ; 
 Puts on lu's pretty looks, repeats his words, 
 Remembers me of all his gracious parts, 
 Stuff's out his vacant garments with his form ; 
 Then, have I reason to be fond of grief. 
 Fare you well : had you such a loss as I, 
 I co_uld give better comfort than you do. 
 I will not keep this form upon my head, 
 
 [Tearing off her head-dress. 
 When there is such disorder in my wit. 
 O lord ! my boy, my Arthur, my fair son ! 
 
 My Hie, my joy, my food, my all the world ! . __ 
 
 Mv widow-comfort, and my sorrows' cure ! [Exit. Methinks, I see this hurly all on foot ; 
 
 if. Phi. I fear some outrage, and I'll follow her. -^nd, O, what better matter breeds for v 
 
 | Lev-. And lose it, life and all, as Arthur did. 
 I Pand. How green are you, and fresh in this old 
 
 world ! 
 
 ! John lays you plots ; the times conspire with you : 
 iFor he, that steeps his safety in true blood, 
 Shall tind but bloody safety, and untrue. 
 (This act, so evilly born, sliall cool the hearts 
 Of all his people, and freeze up their zeal ; 
 That none so small advantage shall step forth, 
 To check his reign, but they will cherish it : 
 No natural exhalation in the sky, 
 No 'scape of nature, no distemper'd dav, 
 No common wind, no customed event, " 
 But they will pluck away his natural cause, 
 And call them meteors, prodigies, and signs, 
 Abortives, presages, and tongues of heaven, 
 Plainly denouncing veiisreance upon John. 
 
 Leic. May be, he will not touch young Arthur's 
 
 life, 
 But hold himself safe in his prisonment. 
 
 Pand. O, sir, when he shall hear of your ap- 
 proach, 
 
 If that young Arthur be not gone already, 
 F.ven at that news lie dies : and then the'hearts 
 Of all liis people shall revolt from him, 
 And kiss the lips of unacquainted change ; 
 And pick strong; matter of revolt, and wrath, 
 ,0m of the bloody fingers' ends of John. 
 
 [Exit. 
 
 Lew. There's nothing in this world, can make 
 
 me joy : 
 
 Life is as tedio'us as a twice-told tale, 
 Vexing the dull ear of a drowsy man ; 
 And bitter shame hath spoiTd the sweet world's 
 
 taste, 
 That it yields nought, but shame, and bitterness. 
 
 Pand. Before the curing 1 of a strong disease, 
 Even in the instant of repair and health, 
 The fit is strongest ; evils, that take leave, 
 On their departure most of all show evil : 
 What have you lost by losing of this day ? 
 
 Lew. All days of glory, joy, and happiness. 
 
 Pand. If you have won it, certainly you had. 
 No, no : when fortune means to men most good, 
 She looks upon them with a threatening evu. 
 'Tis stranire, to think how much kin;. r John hath lost 
 In this which he accounts so clenrly won : 
 Are not you grieved, that Arthur is' his prisoner ? 
 
 Lew. As heartily, as he is glad hn hath him. 
 
 Pand. Your mind is all as youthful as your blood. 
 Now hear me speak with a prophetic spirit ; 
 For even the breath of what I mean to speak 
 Shall blow each dust, each straw, each little rub, 
 Out of the path which shall directly lead 
 Thy foot to England's throne : and, therefore, mark. 
 John hath seiz'd Arthur ; and it cannot be, 
 That, whiles warm life plays in that infant's veins, 
 The misplac'd John should entertain an hour, 
 One minute, nay, one quiet breath of rest : 
 A sceptre, snatch'd with an unruly hand, 
 Must be as boisterously maintain'd as gain'd : 
 And he, that stands upon a slippery place, 
 Makes nice of no vile hold to stay" him up : 
 That John may stand, then Arthur needs must fall ; 
 So be it, for it cannot be but so. 
 
 Lew. But what shall I gain by young Arthur's 
 fall? 
 
 Pand. You, in the right of lady Blanch, your 
 
 wife, 
 May then make all the claim that Arthur did. 
 
 (1) Breathe, __ (2) Graceful, (3) Tapestry. 
 
 Than I have nanrd ! The b=tard Faulconbridge 
 Is now in England, ransacking the church, 
 Offending charity : If but a dozen French 
 Were there in arms, they would be as a call 
 To train ten thousand English to their side ; 
 Or, as a little snow, tumbled about, 
 Anon becomes a mountain. O noble Dauphin, 
 Go with me to the king: : Tis wonderful, 
 What may be wrought out of their discontent: 
 Now that their souls are topful of offence, 
 For England go ; I will whet on the king. 
 Lezc. Strong reasons make strong actions : Let 
 
 us go ; 
 If you say, ay, the king will not say, no. [Exeunt. 
 
 ACT IV. 
 
 SC.E.Y.E 7. Northampton. A room in tht castle. 
 Enter Hubert and two Attendants. 
 
 Hub. Heat me these irons hot : and, look thou 
 
 stand 
 
 Within the arras : 3 when I strike mv foot 
 Upon the bosom of the ground, rusn forth ; 
 And bind the boy, which you shall find witii me, 
 Fast to the chair : be heedful : hence, and watch. 
 1 Attend. I hope, your warrant will bear out 
 
 the deed. 
 
 Hub. Uncleanly scruples ! Fear not you : look 
 to't. [Exeunt Attendant*. 
 
 \ oung lad, come forth ; I have to say with you. 
 
 Enter Arthur. 
 
 .Irih. Good morrow, Hubert. 
 
 Hub. Good morrow, little prince. 
 
 .'Irth. As little prince (having so great a title 
 To be more prince) as may he. You are sad. 
 
 Hub. Indeed, I have been merrier. 
 , flr/A. Mercy on me | 
 
 Methmks, nobody should be sad but I : 
 Yet, I remember, when I was in France, 
 Young gentlemen would be as sad as night,
 
 352 
 
 KING JOHN. 
 
 Act IV. 
 
 Only for wantonness. By my Christendom, 
 
 So I were out of prison, and kept sheep, 
 
 I should be as merry as the day is long ; 
 
 And so I would be here, but that I doubt 
 
 My uncle practises more harm to me : 
 
 He is afraid of me, and I of him : 
 
 Is it my fault that I was Geffrey's son? 
 
 No, indeed, is't not ; And I would to heaven, 
 
 I were your son, so you would love me, Hubert. 
 
 Hub. If I talk to him, with his innocent prate 
 He will awake my mercy, which lies dead : 
 Therefore I will be sudden, and despatch, [Jlside. 
 
 Jlrth. Are you sick, Hubert? you look pale to- 
 day : 
 
 In sooth, I would vou were a little sick ; 
 That I might sit all ni:ht, and watch with you : 
 1 warrant, I love you more than you do me. 
 
 Hub. Give me the iron, I say, and bind him here. 
 
 Jlrth. Alas, what need you be so boist'rous 
 
 rough? 
 
 I will not struggle, I will stand stone-still. 
 For heaven's sate, Hubert, let me not be bound ! 
 Nay, hear me, Hubert ! drive these men away, 
 And I will sit as quiet as a lamb ; 
 I will not stir, nor wince, nor speak a word, 
 Nor look upon the iron angerly : 
 Thrust but these men away, and I'll forgive you, 
 Whatever torment ycu do put me to. 
 
 Hub. Go, stand within ; let me alone with him. 
 
 1 Attend. I am best pleas'd to be from such a 
 d.'ed. [Exeunt Attendants. 
 
 Jlrth. Alas ! I then have chid away my friend ; 
 He hath a stern look, but a gentle heart : 
 Let him come back, that his compassion may 
 
 in., i j v . _ . 
 
 Hub. His words do take possession of iny bo- Give life to yours. 
 
 som. Hub. Come, boy, prepare yourself. 
 
 Read here, young Arthur. [Shoioing a paper.] Jlrth. Is there no remedy ? 
 
 How now, foolish rheum ? \Jiside. ' Hub. None, but to lose your eyes. 
 
 Turning dispiteous torture out of door! ; Jlrth. O heaven! that there were but a mote 
 
 I must be brief; lest resolution drop in yours, 
 
 Out at mine eyes, in tender womanish tears. A grain, a dust, a gnat, a wand'ring hair, 
 
 Can you not read it '.' i.s it not fair writ V Any annoyance in that precious sense ! 
 
 Jlrth. Too fairly, Hubert, for so foul effect : j Then, feeling what small things are boist'rous there, 
 Must you with hot irons burn out both mine eyes ? Your vile intent must needs seem horrible. 
 
 Hub. Young boy, I must. 
 
 *li-tk. And will you ? 
 
 Hub. "And I will. 
 
 tirth. Have you the heart? W T hen your head 
 
 did but ache, 
 
 I knit my handkerchief about your brows, 
 (The best I had, a princess wrought it me,) 
 And I did never ask it you again : 
 And with my hand at midnight held your head; 
 And, like the watchful minutes to the hour, 
 Still and anon cheer'd up the heavy time ; 
 Saying, What lack you ? and, Where lies your 
 
 grief? 
 
 Or, What good love may I perform for you ? 
 Many a poor man's son would have lain still, 
 And ne'er have spoke a loving word to you ; 
 But you at your sick service had a prince. 
 Nay, you may think, my love was crafty love, 
 And call it cunning ; Do, an if you will : 
 If heaven be pleas'd that yon must use me ill, 
 Why, then you must. Will you put out mine 
 
 eyes ? 
 
 These eyes, that never did. nor never shall, 
 So much as frown on you ? 
 
 Hub. I have sworn to do it ; 
 
 And with hot irons must I burn them out. 
 
 Jlrth. Ah, none, but in this iron age, would do it ! 
 The iron of itself, though heat red-hot, 
 Approaching near these eyes, would drink my 
 
 tears, 
 
 And quench his fiery indignation, 
 Even in the matter of mine innocence : 
 Nay, after that, consume away in rust, 
 But for containing fire to harm mine eye. 
 Are vou more stubborn-hard than hammer'd iron? 
 An if an angel should have come to me, 
 And told me. Hubert should put out mine eyes, 
 I would not have beliey'd no tongue, but Hubert's. 
 
 Hub. Come forth. 
 
 [Stamps. 
 
 Re-enter Attendants, with cord, irons, $c. 
 
 Do as I bid yon do. 
 Jlrth. O, save me, Hubert, save me ! my eyes 
 
 are out, 
 ETCH with the fierce looks of these bloody men. 
 
 (1) In croeltv I hare not deserted. 
 
 Hub. Is this your promise ? go to, hold your 
 tongue. 
 
 Jlrth. Hubert, the utterance of a brace of tongues 
 Must needs want pleading for a pair of eyes : 
 [Let me not hold my tongue ; let me not," Hubert ! 
 Or, Hubert, if you will, cut out my tongue, 
 So I may keep mine eyes ; O, spare mine eyes ; 
 Though to no use, but still to look on you !' 
 Lo, by my troth, the instrument is cold, 
 And would not harm me. 
 
 Hub. I can heat it, boy. 
 
 Jlrth. No, in good soolh; the fire is dead with 
 
 grief, 
 
 Being create for comfort, to be us'd 
 In undeserv'd extremes : ' See else yourself ; 
 There is no malice in this burning coal ; 
 The breath of heaven hath blown his spirit out, 
 And streiv'd repentant ashes on his hea'd. 
 
 Hub. But with my breath I can revive it, boy. 
 
 *ldh. And if you do, you will but make it blush, 
 And glow with shame of your proceedings, Hubert : 
 ?\av, if, perchance, will sparkle in your eyes ; 
 And, like a dug that is compell'd to fight/ 
 Snatch at his master that doth tarre 2 him on. 
 Ail things, that you should use to do me wrong, 
 Deny their office : only you do lack 
 That mercy, which fierce fire, and iron, extends, 
 Creatures of note, for mercy-lacking uses. 
 
 Hub. Well, see to live ; "I will not touch thine 
 
 eyes 
 
 For all the treasures that thine uncle owes : 3 
 Vet. am I sworn, and I did purpose, boy, 
 With this same very iron to burn them out. 
 
 Jlrth. O, now you look like Hubert! all this 
 
 while 
 Yon were disguised. 
 
 Hub. Peace : no more. Adieu ; 
 
 Your uncle must not know but you are dead : 
 I'll fill these doirged spies with false reports. 
 And, pretty child, sleep doubtless, and secure, 
 That Hubert, for the wealth of all the world, 
 Will not offend thee. 
 
 Jlrth. O heaven ! I thank you, Hubert. 
 
 Hub. Silence; no more: Goclose'ly'in with me; 
 Much danger do I undergo for thee. [Exeunt. 
 
 (2) Set him on. (S) Owns, (4) Secretly,
 
 Scent 11. 
 
 KING JOHN. 
 
 353 
 
 SCENE ILThe same. A room of state in the 
 
 palace. Enter King John, crowned ; Pembroke, 
 
 Salisbury, and other lords. The king takes his 
 
 state. 
 
 K. John. Here once again we sit, once again 
 
 crown'd, 
 And look'd upon, I hope, with cheerful eyes. 
 
 Pern. This once again, but that your highness 
 
 pleas'd, 
 
 Was once superfluous : you were crown'd before, 
 And that high royalty was ne'er pluck'd off; 
 The faiths of men ne'er stained with revolt ; 
 Fresh expectation troubled not the land, 
 With any long'd-for change, or better state. 
 
 Sal. Therefore, to be possess'd with double pomp, 
 To guard 1 a title that was rich before, 
 To gild refined gold, to paint the lily, 
 To throw a peruime_on the violet, 
 To smooth the ice, or add another hue 
 Unto the rainbow, or with taper-light 
 To seek the beauteous eye of heaven to garnish, 2 
 Is wasteful, and ridiculous excess. 
 
 Pern. But that your royal pleasure must be done, 
 This act is as an ancient tale new told ; 
 And, in the last repeating, troublesome, 
 Being urged at a time unseasonable. 
 
 Sal. In this, the antique and well-noted face 
 Of plain old form is much disfigured: 
 And, like a shifted wind unto a sail, 
 It makes the course of thoughts to fetch about ; 
 Startles and frights consideration ; 
 Makes sound opinion sick, and truth suspected, 
 For putting on so new a fashion'd robe. 
 
 Pern. When workmen strive to do better than 
 
 well. 
 
 They do coniound their skill in covetousness : 3 
 And, oftentimes, excusing of a fault, 
 Doth make the fault the worse by the excuse ; 
 As patches, set upon a little breach, 
 Discredit more in hiding of the fault, 
 Than did the fault before it was so patch'd. 
 
 Sal. To this effect, before you were new-crown'd, 
 We breath'd our counsel : but it pleas'd your high- 
 ness 
 
 To overbear it ; and we are all well pleas'd ; 
 Since all and every part of what we would, 
 Doth make a stand at what your highness will. 
 
 K. John. Some reasons of this double coronation 
 I have possess'd you with, and think them strong ; 
 And more, more strong (when lesser is my fear,) 
 I shall indue you with : Meantime, but ask 
 What you would have reform'd, that is not well ; 
 And well shall you perceive, how willingly 
 I will both hear and grant you your requests. 
 
 Pern. Then I, (as one that am the tongue of these, 
 To sound 4 the purposes of all their hearts,) 
 Both for myself, and them, (but, chief of all, 
 Your safety, for the which myself and them 
 Bend their best studies,) heartily request 
 The enfranchisement 5 of Arthur; whose restraint 
 Doth move the murmuring lips of discontent, 
 To break into this dangerous argument, 
 If, what in rest you have, in right you hold, 
 Why then your fears (which, as they say, attend 
 The steps of wrong,) should move you to mew up 
 Your tender kinsman, and to choke his days 
 With barbarous ignorance, and deny his youth 
 The rich advantage of good exercise ? 
 That the time's enemies may not have this 
 To grace occasions, let it be our suit, 
 That you have bid us ask his liberty , 
 
 (1) Lace. (2) Decorate. 
 
 (.3) Desire of excelling. (4) Publish. 
 
 Which for our goods we do no further ask, 
 Than whereupon our weal, on you depending, 
 Counts it your weal, he have his liberty. 
 K. John. Let it be so ; I do commit his youth 
 
 Enter Hubert. 
 
 To your direction. Hubert, what news with you ? 
 
 Pern. This is the man should do the bloody deed ; 
 He show'd his warrant to a friend of mine: 
 The image of a wicked heinous fault 
 Lives in nis eye ; that close aspect of his 
 Does show the mood of a much-troubled breast ; 
 And I do fearfully believe, 'tis done, 
 What we so fear'd he had a charge to do. 
 
 Sal. The colour of the king doth come and go, 
 Between his purpose and his conscience, 
 Like heralds 'twixt two dreadful battles set : 
 His passion is so ripe, it needs must break. 
 
 Pern. And, when it breaks, I fear, will issue 
 
 thence 
 The foul corruption of a sweet child's death. 
 
 K. John. We cannot hold mortality's strong 
 
 hand : 
 
 Good lords, although my will to give is living, 
 The suit which you demand is gone and dead : 
 He tells us, Arthur is deceas'd to-night. 
 
 Sal. Indeed, we fear'd, his sickness was past cure. 
 
 Pern. Indeed we heard how near his death he was, 
 Before the child himself felt he was sick : 
 This must be answer'd, either here, or hence. 
 
 K. John. Why do you bend such solemn brows 
 
 on me ? 
 
 Think you, I bear the shears of destiny ? 
 Have I commandment on the pulse of life? 
 
 Sal. It is apparent foul play : and 'tis shame, 
 That greatness should so grossly offer it : 
 So thrive it in your game ! and so farewell ! 
 
 Pern. Stay yet, lord Salisbury ; I'll go withthee. 
 And find the inheritance of this poor child, 
 His little kingdom of a forced grave. 
 That blood, which ow'd 6 the breath of all this isle, 
 Three foot of it doth hold ; Bad world the while ! 
 This must not be thus borne : this will break out 
 To all our sorrows, and ere long, I doubt. 
 
 [Exeunt Lords. 
 
 K. John. They burn in indignation ; I repent ; 
 There is no sure foundation set on blood ; 
 
 No certain life achiev'd by others' death. 
 
 Enter a Messenger. 
 
 A fearful eye thou hast ; Where is that blood, 
 That I have seen inhabit in those cheeks ? 
 So foul a sky clears not without a storm : 
 Pour down thy weather : How goes all in France ? 
 
 Mess. From France to England. Never such a 
 
 /power' 
 
 For any foreign preparation, 
 Was levied in the body of a land ! 
 The copy of your speed is learn'd by them ; 
 For, when you should be told they do prepare, 
 The tidings come, that they are all arriv'd. 
 
 K. John. O, where hath our intelligence been 
 
 drunk? 
 
 Where hath it slept ? Where is my mother's care ; 
 That such an army could be drawn in France, 
 And she not hear of it ? 
 
 Mess. "My liege, her ear 
 
 Is stopp'd with dust; the first of April, died 
 Your noble mother : And, as I hear, my lord, 
 The lady Constance in a frenzy died 
 Three days before : but this from rumour's tongue 
 I idly heard; if true, or false, I know not. 
 
 (5) Releasement, 
 
 (6) Owned, 
 2Y 
 
 (7) Force,
 
 354 
 
 KING JOHN. 
 
 Act IV, 
 
 K. John. Withhold thy speed, dreadful occasion ! 
 O, make a league with me, till I have pleas'd 
 My discontented peers ! What ! mother dead ? 
 How wildly then walks my estate in France ! 
 Under whose conduct came those powers of France, 
 That thou for truth giv'st out, are landed here ? 
 
 Mess. Under the dauphin. 
 Enter the Bastard, and Peter of Pomfret. 
 
 K. John. Thou hast made me giddy 
 
 With these ill tidings. Now, what says the world 
 To your proceedings ? do not seek to stuff 
 My head with more ill news, for it is full. 
 
 "Bast. But, if you be afeard to hear the worst, 
 Then let the worst, unheard, fall on your head. 
 
 K. John. Bear with me, cousin ; for I was amaz'd 1 
 Under the tide : but now I breathe again 
 Aloft the flood ; and can give audience 
 To any tongue, speak it ol what it will. 
 
 Bast. How I have sped among the clergymen, 
 The sums I have collected shall express. 
 But, as I travelled hither through the land, 
 I find the people strangely fantasied ; 
 Possess'd with rumours, full of idle dreams ; 
 Not knowing what they fear, but full of fear : 
 And here's a prophet, that I brought v/ith me 
 From forth the streets of Pomfret, whom I found 
 With many hundreds treading on his heels ; 
 To whom he sung, in rude harsh-sounding rhymes, 
 That, ere the next Ascension-day at noon, 
 Your highness should deliver up your crown. 
 
 K. John. Thou idle dreamer, wherefore didst 
 thou so ? 
 
 Peter. Foreknowing that the truth will fall out so. 
 
 K. John. Hubert, away with him ; imprison him ; 
 And on that day, at noon, whereon he says 
 I shall yield up my crown, let him be hang'd: 
 Deliver him to safety,'- 2 and return, 
 For I must use thee. O mv gentle cousin, 
 
 [Ertt Hubert with Peter. 
 Hear'st thou the news abroad, who are arriv'd ? 
 
 Bast. The French, my lord ; men's mouths are 
 
 full of it: 
 
 Besides, I met lord Bigot, and lord_Salisbury, 
 /With eyes as red as new-enkindled fire,) 
 And others more, going to seek the grave 
 Of Arthur, who, they say, is kill'd to-night 
 Onyour suggestion. 
 
 A. John. Gentle kinsman, go, 
 
 And thrust thyself into their companies : 
 I have a way to win their loves again ; 
 Bring them before me. 
 
 Bast. I will seek them out. 
 
 K, John. Nay, but make haste ; the better foot 
 
 before. 
 
 O, let me have no subject enemies, 
 
 When adverse foreigners affright my towns 
 
 With dreadful pomp of stout invasion ! 
 
 Be Mercury, set feathers to thy heels ; 
 
 And fly, like thought, from them to me again. 
 
 Hast. The spirit of the time shall teach me speed. 
 
 [Exit. 
 
 K. John. Spoke like a sprightful noble gentle- 
 man. 
 
 Go after him ; for he, perhaps, shall need 
 Some messenger betwixt me and the peers ; 
 And be thou he. 
 
 Mess. With all my heart, my liege. [Exit. 
 
 K. John. My mother dead ! 
 
 Re-enter Hubert. 
 
 Hub, My lord, they say, five moons were seen 
 to-night : 
 
 Four fixed ; and the fifth did whirl about 
 The other four, in wond'rous motion. 
 
 K. John. Five moons ? 
 
 Hub. Old men, and bedlams, 
 
 in the streets 
 
 Do prophesy upon it dangerously : 
 Young Arthur's death is common in their mouths : 
 And when they talk of him, they shake their heads, 
 And whisper one another in the ear ; 
 And he, that speaks, doth gripe the hearer's wrist ; 
 Whilst he, that hears, makes fearful action, 
 With wrinkled brows, with nods, with rolling 
 
 eyes. 
 
 I saw a smith stand with his hammer, thus, 
 The whilst his iron did on the anvil cool, 
 With open mouth swallowing a tailor's news ; 
 Who, with his shears and measure in his hand, 
 Standing on slippers (which his nimble haste 
 Had falsely thrust upon contrary feet,) 
 Told of a many thousand warlike French, 
 That were embattled, and rank'd in Kent : 
 Another lean unwash'd artificer 
 Cuts off his tale, and talks of Arthur's death. 
 
 K. John. Why seek'st thou tc. possess me with 
 
 these fears ? 
 
 Why urgest thou so ofl young Arthur's death ? 
 Thy hand hath murder'd him': I had mighty cause 
 To wish him dead, but thou hadst none to kill him. 
 
 Hub. Had none, my lord ! why, did you not pro- 
 voke me ? 
 
 K. John. It is the curse of kings, to be attended 
 By slaves that take their humours for a warrant 
 To break within the bloody house of life : 
 And, on the winking of authority, 
 To understand a law ; to know the meaning 
 Of dangerous majesty, when, perchance, it frowns 
 More upon humour than advis'd respect. 3 
 
 Hub. Here is your hand and seal for what 1 
 did. 
 
 K. John. O, when the last account 'twixt heaven 
 
 and earth 
 
 Is to be made, then shall this hand and seal 
 Witness against us to damnation ! 
 How oft the sight of means to do ill deeds, 
 Makes deeds ill done ! Hadest not thou been by, 
 A fellow by the hand of nature mark'd, 
 Quoted, 11 and sign'd, to do a deed of shame, 
 This murder had not come into my mind : 
 But, taking note of thy abhorr'd aspect, 
 Finding thee fit for bloody villany, 
 Apt, liable, to be employ'd in danger, 
 I faintly broke with thee of Arthur's death ; 
 And thou, to be endeared to a king, 
 Made it no consci*ice to destroy a prince. 
 
 Hub. My lord, 
 
 K. John. Hadst thou but shook thy head, 01 
 
 made a pause, 
 
 When I spake darkly what I purposed ; 
 Or turn'd an eye of doubt upon my face, 
 As bid me tell my tale in express words ; 
 Deep shame had struck me dumb, made me break 
 
 off, 
 And those thy fears might have wrought fears in 
 
 me : 
 
 But thou didst understand me by my signs, 
 And didst in signs again parley with sin ; 
 Yea, without stop, didst let thy heart consent, 
 And, consequently, thy rude hand to act 
 The deed, which both our tongues held vile to 
 
 name. 
 
 Out of my sight, and never see me more ! 
 My nobles leave me ; and my state is brav'd, 
 
 (1) Stunned, confounded, 
 
 (2) Custody, , (3) Deliberate consideration, (4) Observed,
 
 Siene III. 
 
 KING JOHN. 
 
 Even at my gates, with ranks of foreign powers : 
 
 Nay, in the body of this fleshly land, 1 
 
 Thfs kingdom, this confine ofblood and breath, 
 
 Hostility and civil tumult reigns 
 
 Between my conscience, and my cousin's death. 
 
 Hub. Ann you against your other enemies, 
 I'll make a peace between your soul and you. 
 Young Arthur is alive : This hand of mine 
 Is yet a maiden and an innocent hand, 
 Not painted with the crimson spots of blood. 
 Within this bosom never enter'd yet 
 The dreadful motion of a murd'rous thought, 
 And you have slander'd nature in my form ; 
 Which, howsoever rude exteriorly, 
 Is yet the cover of a fairer mind 
 Than to be butcher of an innocent child. 
 
 A". John. Doth Arthur live I O, haste thee to 
 
 the peers, 
 
 Throw this report on their incensed rage, 
 And make them tame to their obedience ! 
 Forsrive the comment that my passion made 
 Upoli thv feature ; for my rage was blind, 
 And foul imaginary eyes ofblood 
 Presented thee more hideous than thou art. 
 0, answer not ; but to my eloset bring 
 The angry lords, with all expedient 3 haste : 
 I c6njure thee but slowly ; run more fast. [Exe. 
 
 SCENE HI. The same, before the castle. En- 
 ter Arthur, en the iralls. 
 Arth. The wall is high; and yet will I leap 
 
 down : 
 
 Good around, be pitiful, and hurt me not ! 
 There's few, or none, do know me ; if they did, 
 This ship-boy's semblance hath disguis'd me quite. 
 I am afraid ;' and yet I'll venture it. 
 If I get down, and do not break my limbs, 
 I'll find a thousand shifts to get away : 
 As good to die, and go, as die, and stav. 
 
 [Leaps down. 
 
 me ! my uncle's spirit is in these stones : 
 Heaven take my soul, and England keep my bones ! 
 
 [Dies. 
 
 Enter Pembroke, Salisbury, and Bigot. 
 Sal. Lords, I will meet him at Saint Edmund's- 
 
 bury ; 
 
 It is our safety, and we must embrace 
 This gentle oner of the perilous time. 
 Pern. Who brought that letter from the cardinal ? 
 Sal. The Count Melun, a noble lord of France ; 
 Whose private with me, 3 of the dauphin's love, 
 Is much more general than these lines import. 
 Big. To-morrow momino- let ns meet him then. 
 Sal. Or, rather then set forward : for 'twill be 
 Two long days' journey, lords, or e'er we meet. 
 
 Enter the Bastard. 
 Bast. Once more to-day well met, distemper'd 4 
 
 lords ! 
 
 The kine, by me, requests your presence straight. 
 Sal. The king hath dispossexs'd himself of us ; 
 We will not line his thin bestained cloak 
 With our pure honours, nor attend the foot 
 That leaves the print of blood where'er it walks : 
 Return, and tell him so ; we know the worst. 
 Hast. Whate'er you think, good words, I think, 
 
 were best. 
 
 Sal. Our griefs, and not our manners, reason now. 
 Bast. But there is little reason in your grief; 
 Therefore, 'twere reason, you had manners now. 
 
 (1) His own body. 
 
 13) Private account, 
 5) Pity. 
 
 (2) Expeditious. 
 (4) Out of humour. 
 
 Pern. Sir, sir, impatience liath his privilege. 
 
 Hast. 'Tis true ; to hurt his master, no man else. 
 
 Sal. This is the prison : What is he lies here ? 
 [Seeing Arthur. 
 
 Pern. O death, made proud with pure and prince- 
 ly beauty ! 
 The earth had not a hole to hide this deed. 
 
 Sal. Murder, as hating what himself hath done, 
 Doth lay it open, to urge on revenge. 
 
 Big. Or, when he doom'd this beauty to a grave, 
 Found ?t too precious-princely for a grave. 
 
 Sal. Sir Richard, what think you? Have you 
 
 beheld, 
 
 Or have you read, or heard ? or could you think? 
 Or do you almost think, although you see, 
 That you do see ? could thought, without this object, 
 Form such another ? This is the very top, 
 The height, the crest, or crest unto the crest, 
 Of murder's arms : this is the bloodiest shame, 
 The wildest savagery, the vilest stroke, 
 That ever wall-ey'd wrath, or staring rage, 
 Presented to the ears of soft remorse. s 
 
 Pern. All murders past do stand excus'd in this : 
 And this, so sole, and so unmatchable, 
 Shall give a holiness, a purity, 
 To the yet-unbegotten sin of time ; 
 And prove a deadly bloodshed but a jest, 
 Exampled by this heinous spectacle. 
 
 Bast. It is a damned and a bloody work ; 
 The graceless action of a heavy hand, 
 If that it be the work of any hand. 
 
 Sal. If that it be the work of any hand ? 
 We had a kind of light, what would ensue : 
 It is the shameful work of Hubert's hand ; 
 The practice, and the purpose, of the king: 
 From whose obedience I forbid my soul, 
 Kneeling before this ruin of sweet life, 
 And breathing to his breathless excellence, 
 The incense of a vow, a holy vow ; 
 Never to taste the pleasures of the world, 
 Never to be infected with delight, 
 Nor conversant with ease and idleness, 
 Till I have set a glory to this hand, 6 
 By eivingit the worship of revenge. 
 
 Pern. Big. Our souls relijriousli 
 words. 
 
 religiously confirm thy 
 
 Enter Hubert. 
 
 Hub. Lords, I am hot with haste in seeking you : 
 Arthur doth live ; the kinsr hath sent for you. 
 
 Sal. O, he is bold, and blushes not at death : 
 A vaunt, thou hateful villain, get thee gone ! 
 
 Hub. I am no villain. 
 
 Sal. Must I rob the law? 
 
 [Drawing his sicord. 
 
 Bast. Your sword is bright, sir ; put it up again. 
 
 Sid. Not till I sheath it in a murderer's skin. 
 
 Hub. Stand back, lord Salisbury, stand back, I 
 
 say ; 
 
 By heaven, I think, my sword's as sharp as yours : 
 I would not have yon, lord, forget yourself, 
 Nor tempt the danger of my true' defence ; 
 Lest I, by marking of your rage, fortret 
 Your worth, your emitness, and nobility. 
 
 Big. Out, dunghill ! dar'st thou brave a noble- 
 man ? 
 
 Hub. Not for my life : but yet I dare defend 
 My innocent life against, an emperor. 
 
 Sal. Thou art a murderer. 
 
 Hub. Do not prove me so ;* 
 
 (6) Hand should be head : a glory is the circle of 
 rays which surrounds the heads of saints in pictures, 
 (V) Honest, (8) By compelling me to kill you,
 
 35G 
 
 KING JOHN. 
 
 AetV. 
 
 Yet, I am none : Whose tongue soe'er speaks false, 
 Not truly speaks ; who speaks not truly, lies. 
 
 Pern. Cut him to pieces. 
 
 Bast. Keep the peace, I say. 
 
 Sal. Stand by, or I shall gall you, Faulconbridge. 
 
 Bast . Thou wert better gall the devil, Salisbury : 
 If thou but frown on me, or stir thy foot, 
 Or teach thy hasty spleen to do me shame, 
 I'll strike thee dead. Put up thy sword betime ; 
 Or I'll so maul you and your toasting-iron, 
 That you shall think the devil is come from hell. 
 
 Big. Whatwiltthoudo,renownedFaulconbridge? 
 Second a villain, and a murderer ? 
 
 Hub. Lord Bigot, I am none. 
 
 Big. Who kill'd this prince ? 
 
 Hub. 'Tis not an hour since I left him well : 
 I honour'd him, I lov'd him ; and will weep 
 My date of life out, for his sweet life's loss. 
 
 Sal. Trust not those cunning waters of his eyes, 
 For villany is not without such rheum, 1 
 And he, long traded in it, makes it seem 
 Like rivers of remorse 2 and innocency. 
 Away, with me, and all you whose souls abhor 
 The uncleanly savours of a slaughter-house, 
 For I am stifled with this smell of sin. 
 
 Big. Away, toward Bury, to the dauphin there ! 
 
 Pern. There, tell the king, he may inquire us 
 out. [Exeunt Lords. 
 
 Bast. Here's a good world ! Knew you of this 
 
 fair work ? 
 
 Beyond the infinite and boundless reach 
 Of mercy, if thou didst this deed of death, 
 Art thou damn'd, Hubert. 
 
 Hub. Do but hear me, sir. 
 
 Bast. Ha ! I'll tell thee what ; 
 Thou art damn'd as black nay, nothing is so 
 
 black ; 
 
 Thou art more deep damn'd than prince Lucifer : 
 There is not yet so ugly a fiend of hell 
 As thou shall be, if thou didst kill this child. 
 
 Hub. Upon my soul, 
 
 Bast. If thou didst but consent 
 
 To this most cruel act, do but despair, 
 And, if thou want's! a cord, the smallest thread 
 That ever spider twisted from her womb 
 Will serve to strangle thee ; a rush will be 
 A beam to hang thee on ; or would'st thou drown 
 
 thyself, 
 
 Put but a little water in a spoon, 
 And it shall be as all the ocean, 
 
 Enough to stifle such a villain up. 
 
 I do suspect thee very grievously. 
 
 Hub. If I in act, consent, or sin of thought, 
 Be guilty of the stealing that sweet breath 
 Which was embounded in this beauteous clay, 
 Let hell want, pains enough to torture me ! 
 I left him well. 
 
 Bast. Go, bear him in thine arms. 
 
 I am amaz'd, 3 methinks ; and lose my way 
 Among the thorns and dangers of this world. 
 How easy dost thou take all England up ! 
 From forth this morsel of dead rovalty, 
 The life, the right, and truth of all this realm 
 Is fled to heaven ; and England now is left 
 To tug and scamble, and to part by the teeth 
 The unowed 4 interest of proud-swelling state. 
 Now, for the bare-pick'd bone of majesty, 
 Doth dogged war bristle his angry crest, 
 And snarleth in the gentle eyes of peace : 
 Now powers from home, and discontents at home, 
 Meet in one line ; and vast confusion waits 
 (As doth a raven on a sick-fallen beast,) 
 
 (1) Moisture. (2) Pity. (3) Confounded. 
 
 The imminent decay of wrested pomp. 
 Now happy he, whose cloak and cincture* can 
 Hold out this tempest. Bear away that child, 
 And follow me with speed ; I'll to the king : 
 A thousand businesses are brief in hand, 
 And heaven itself doth frown upon the land. 
 
 [Exevnt. 
 
 ACT V. 
 
 SCEJVE I. The same. Jl room in the palace. 
 Enter King John, Pandulph with the crown, 
 and attendants. 
 
 K. John. Thus have I yielded up into your hand 
 The circle of my glory. 
 
 Pand. Take again 
 
 [Giving John the croicn. 
 From this my hand, as holding of the pope, 
 Your sovereign greatness and authority. 
 
 K. John. Now keep your holy word: go meet 
 
 the French ; 
 
 And from his holiness use all your power 
 To stop their marches, 'fore we are inflam'd. 
 Our discontented counties do revolt ; 
 Our people quarrel with obedience ; 
 Swearing allegiance, and the love of soul, 
 To stranger blood, to foreign royalty. 
 This inundation of mistemper'd'humour 
 Rests by you only to be qualified. 
 Then pause not ; for the present time's so sick, 
 That present medicine must be minister'd, 
 Or overthrow incurable ensues. 
 
 Pand. It was my breath that blew this tem- 
 pest up, 
 
 Upon vour stubborn usage of the pope : 
 But, since you are a gentle convertite, 6 
 My tongue shall hush again this storm of war. 
 And make fair weather m your blustering land. 
 On this Ascension-day, remember well, 
 Upon your oath of service to the pope, 
 Go I to make the French lay down their arms. 
 
 [Exit. 
 
 K. John. Is this Ascension-day? Did not the 
 
 prophet 
 
 Say, that, before Ascension-day at noon, 
 My crown I should give off"? Even so I have : 
 I did suppose, it should be on constraint ; 
 But, heaven be thank'd, it is but voluntary. 
 
 Enter the Bastard. 
 
 Bast. All Kent hath yielded ; nothing there 
 
 holds put, 
 
 But Dover castle : London hath receiv'd, 
 Like a kind host, the dauphin and his powers : 
 Your nobles will not hear you, but are gone 
 To offer service to your enemy ; 
 And wild amazement hurries up and down 
 The little number of your doubtful friends. 
 
 K. John. Would not my lords return to me 
 
 again, 
 After they heard young Arthur was alive? 
 
 Bast. They found him dead, and cast into the 
 
 streets ; 
 
 An empty casket, where the jewel of life 
 By some damn'd hand was robb'd and ta'en away. 
 
 'K. John. That villain Hubert told me, he did 
 live. 
 
 Bast. So, on my soul, he did, for aught he knew. 
 But wherefore do you droop ? why look you sad ? 
 Be great in act, as you have been'in thought ; 
 
 (4)_Unowned. (5) Girdle. (6) Convert
 
 Scent II. 
 
 KING JOHN. 
 
 357 
 
 Let not the world sec fear, and sad distrust, 
 
 Govern the motion of a kingly eye : 
 
 Be stirring as the time ; be fire with fire ; 
 
 Threaten the threat'ner, and outface the brow 
 
 Of bragging horror : so shall inferior eyes, 
 
 That borrow their behaviours from the great, 
 
 Grow great by your example, and put on 
 
 The dauntless spirit of resolution. 
 
 Away ; and glister like the god of war, 
 
 When he intendeth to become the field : 
 
 Siiow boldness, and aspiring confidence. 
 
 What, shall they seek the lion in his den, 
 
 And fright him there? and make him tremble there ? 
 
 O, let it not be said .'Forage, and run 
 
 To meet displeasure further from the doors ; 
 
 And grapple with him, ere he come so nigh. 
 
 K. John. The legate of the pope hath been 
 
 with me, 
 
 And I have made a happy peace with him ; 
 And he hath promis'd to dismiss the powers 1 
 Led by the dauphin. 
 
 Bast. O, inglorious league ! 
 
 Shall we, upon the footing of our land, 
 Send fair-play orders, and make compromise, 
 Insinuation, parley, and base truce, 
 To arms invasive ? shall a beardless boy, 
 A cocker'd 2 silken wanton, brave pur fields, 
 And flesh his spirit in a warlike soil, 
 Mocking the air with colours idlv spread, 
 And find no check? Let us, my liege, to arms : 
 Perchance, the cardinal cannot make your peace ; 
 Or if he do, let it at least be said, 
 They saw we had a purpose of defence. 
 
 K. John. Have you the ordering of this present 
 time. 
 
 Bast. Away then, with good couraTC ; yet, 1 know, 
 O ur party may well meet a prouder foe. f Extunt. 
 
 II. Jl plain, near St. Ednwnd'x.Pury. 
 Enter, in arms, Lewis, Salisbury, Mclun, Pem- 
 broke, Bigot, and solditrs. 
 
 Lew. My lord Melun, let this be copied out, 
 And keep it safe for our remembrance : 
 Return the precedent to these lords again ; 
 That, having our fair order written down, 
 Both they, and we, perusin? o'er these notes, 
 May know wherefore we took the sacrament, 
 And keep our faiths firm and inviolable. 
 
 Sal. Upon our sides it never shall be broken. 
 And, noble dauphin, albeit we swear 
 A voluntary zeal, and unursr'd faith, 
 To your proceedings ; yet, believe me, prince, 
 I am not glad that such a sore of time 
 Should seek a plaster by contemn'd revolt, 
 And heal the inveterate canker of one wound 
 Bv making many : O, it grieves my soul, 
 That I must, draw this metal from my side, 
 To be a widow-maker ; O, and there, 
 Where honourable rescue, and defence, 
 Cries out upon the name of Salisbury : 
 But such is the infection of the timej! 
 That, for the health and physic of our right, 
 We cannot deal but with the very hand 
 Of stern injustice and confused wrong. 
 And is't not pity, O my grieved friends ! 
 That we, the sons and children of this isle, 
 Were born to see so sad an hour as this ; 
 Wherein we step after a stranzer march 
 L^pon her gentle bosom, and fill up 
 Her enemies' ranks, (I must withdraw and weep 
 Upon the spot of this enforc'd cause,) 
 To grace the gentry of a land remote, 
 
 (1) Forces. (2) Fondled. (3) Embraceth. 
 
 And follow unacquainted colours here ? 
 
 What, here ? O nation, that thou could'st remove ! 
 
 That Neptune's arms, who clippeth 3 thee about. 
 
 Would bear thee from the knowledge of thyself, 
 
 And grapple thee unto a Pagan shore ; 
 
 Where these two Christian armies might combine 
 
 The blood of malice in a vein of league, 
 
 And not to spend it so unneighbourly ! 
 
 Lew. A noble temper dost thou show in this ; 
 And great affections, wrestling in thy bosom, 
 Do make an earthquake of nobility. 
 0, what a noble combat hast thou fought, 
 Between compulsion and a brave respect !* 
 Let me wipe off this honourable dew, 
 That silverly doth progress on thy cheeks : 
 My heart hath melted at a lady's tears, 
 Being an ordinary inundation 
 But this effusion of such manly drops, 
 This shower, blown up by tempest of the soul, 
 Startles mine eyes, and makes me more amaz'd 
 Than had I seen the vaulty top of heaven 
 Figur'd quite o'er with burning meteors. 
 Lift up thy brov,-, renowned Salisbury, 
 And with a great heart heave away this storm : 
 Commend these waters to those baby eyes, 
 That never saw the giant world enrag'd ; 
 Nor met with fortune other than at feasts, 
 Full warm of blood, of mirth, of gossiping. 
 Come, come ; for thou shalt thrust thy hand as deep 
 Into the purse of rich prosperity, 
 As Lewis himself: so, nobles, shall you all, 
 That knit your sinews to the strength of mine. 
 
 Enter Pandulph attended. 
 
 And even there, methinks, an angel spake : 
 Look, where the holy legate comes apace, 
 To give us warrant from the hand of heaven ; 
 And on our actions set the name of rieht, 
 With holy breath. 
 
 Pond. Hail, noble prince of France ! 
 
 The next is this, King John hath reconcil'd 
 Himself to Rome ; his spirit is come in, 
 That so stood out against the holy church, 
 The great metropolis and see of Rome : 
 Therefore thy threal'ning colours now wind up, 
 And tame the savage spirit of wild war ; 
 That, like a lion foster'd up at hand, 
 It may lie gently at the foot of peace, 
 And be no further harmful than in show. 
 
 Lew. Your grace shall pardon me, I will notback ; 
 [ am too high-born to be propertied, 4 
 To be a secondary at control, 
 Or useful serving-man, and instrument, 
 To any sovereign state throughout the world. 
 Your breath first kindled the dead coal of wars, 
 Between this chastis'd kingdom and myself, 
 And brought in matter that should feed this fire ; 
 And now 'tis far too huge to be blown out 
 With that same weak wind which enkindled it. 
 You taught me how to know the face of right, 
 Acquainted me with interest to this land, 
 Yea, thrust this enterprize into my heart ; 
 And come you now to tell me, John hath made 
 His peace with Rome ? What is that peace to me ? 
 [,' by the honour of my marriage-bed, 
 After young Arthur, claim this land for mine ; 
 And, now it is half-conquer'd, must I back, 
 Because that John hath made his peace with Rome ? 
 Ami Rome's slave ? What penny hath Rome borne, 
 What men provided, what munition sent, 
 To underprop this action ? is't not I, 
 That undergo this charge ? who else but I, 
 
 (4) Love of country. (5) Appropriated.
 
 358 
 
 KING JOHN. 
 
 Act V. 
 
 And such as to nyf claim are liable. 
 Sweat in this business, and maintain this war? 
 Have I not heard these islanders shout out, 
 Vive le roy ! as I have bank'd their towns ? 
 Have I not here the best cards for the game, 
 To win this easy match play'd for a crown? 
 And shall I now give o'er the yielded set? 
 No, on my soul, it never shall be said. 
 
 Pand. You look but on the outside of this work. 
 
 Lew. Outside or inside, I will not return 
 Till my attempt so much be glorified 
 As to my ample hope was promised 
 Before I drew this gallant head of war, 
 And cull'd these fiery spirits from the world, 
 To outlook 1 conquest, and to win renown 
 Even in the jaws of danger and of death. 
 
 [Trumpet sounds. 
 What lusty trumpet thus doth summon us ? 
 
 Enter the Bastard, attended. 
 
 Bast. According to the fair play of the world, 
 Let me have audience ; I am sent to speak : 
 My holy lord of Milan, from the king 
 I come, to learn how you have dealt for him ; 
 And as you answer, I do know the scope 
 And warrant limited unto my tongue. 
 
 Pand. The dauphin is loo wilful-opposite, 
 And will not temporize with my entreaties ; 
 He flatly says, he'll not lay down his arms. 
 
 Bast. By all the blood that ever furv breath'd, 
 '"""r- youth says well : Now hear our English king ; 
 J >r 'lius his royalty doth spKp.k in me. 
 1 ! 1.5 prepar'd ; and reason too, he should : 
 This apish and unmannerly approach, 
 Tnis harness'd masque, and unadvised revel, 
 This unhair'd sauciuess, and boyish troops, 
 The king doth smile at ; and is well prepar'd 
 To whip this dwarfish war, these pigmy arms, 
 From out the circle of his territories. 
 Th.it hand, which had the strength, even at your 
 
 door, 
 
 To cudgel you, and make you take the hatch ; 2 
 To dive, like buckets, in concealed 1 wells ; 
 To crouch in litter of your stable planks ; 
 To lie, like pawns, lock'd up in chests and trunks ; 
 To hug with swine ; to seek sweet safely out 
 In vaults and prisons ; and to thrill, and shake, 
 Even at the crying of your nation's crow, 4 
 Thinking his voice an armed Englishman ; 
 Shall that victorious hand he fecbled here, 
 That in your chambers gave you chastisement ? 
 No : Know, the gallant monarch is in arms ; 
 And like an eagle o'er his aiery 4 towers, 
 To souse annoyance that comes near his nest. 
 And you degenerate, you ingrate revolts, 
 You bloody Neroes, ripping up the womb 
 Of your dear mother England, blush for shame : 
 For your own ladies, and pale-vis'ag'd maids, 
 Like Amazons, come tripping after drums ; 
 Their thimbles into armed gauntlets change, 
 Their neelds 6 to lances, and their gentle hearts 
 To fierce and bloody inclination. 
 
 Lew, There end thy brave,' and turn thy face 
 
 in peace, 
 
 WJe <rrant, thou canst outseold ns : fare thee well ; 
 'We hold our time too precious to be spent 
 With such a"brabbler. 
 
 Pand. Give me leave to speak. 
 
 Jinst. No, I will speak. 
 
 Lew. We will attend to neither : 
 
 Strike up the drums ; and let the tongue of war 
 
 Plead for our interest, and our being here. 
 
 East. Indeed, your drums, being beaten, will 
 
 cry out ; 
 
 And so shall you, being beaten : Do but start 
 An echo with the clamour of thy drum, 
 And even at hand a drum is ready brac'd, 
 That shall reverberate all as loud' as Ihine ; 
 Sound but another, and another shall, 
 As loud as thine, rattle the welkin's" ear, 
 And mock the deep-mouth'd thunder : for at hand 
 (Not trusting to this halting legate here, 
 Whom he hath us'd rather for sport Ihan need,) 
 Is warlike John ; and in his forehead sits 
 A bare-ribb'd death, whose office is this day 
 To feast upon whole thousands of the French. 
 
 Lew. Strike up our drums, to find this danger out. 
 
 Bast. And thou shall find it, dauphin, do not 
 doubt. [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE III. The same. A field of battle. 
 Jllarums. ' Enter King John and Hubert. 
 
 K. John. How goes the day with us? O, tell 
 
 me, Hubert. 
 
 Hub. Badly, I fear : How fares your majesty ? 
 K. John. This fever, that hatn "troubled me so 
 
 long, 
 Lies heavy on me ; O, my heart is sick ! 
 
 Enter a Messenger. 
 Mess. My lord, your valiant Kinsman, Faulcon 
 
 bridge, 
 
 Desires your majesty to leave the field ; 
 And send him word by me, which way you go. 
 K. John. Tell him, toward Swinstead, to the 
 
 nMjpy there. 
 
 Jllc.ss. Be of good comfort ; for the great supply, 
 That was expected by the dauphin here, 
 Are wreck'd three nights ago on Goodwin .aiids. 
 This news was brought to Richard but even now : 
 The French light coldly, and retire themselves. 
 K. John. An me! this tyrant fever burns me up, 
 
 And will not let me welcome this good news. 
 
 Set on toward Swinstead : to my litter straight ; 
 Weakness possesseth me, and I am faint. [Exe. 
 
 SCENE IV. The same. Another part of the 
 same. Enter Salisbury, Pembroke, Bigot, and 
 others. 
 
 Sal. I did not think the king so stor'd with friends. 
 
 Pern. Up once again ; put spirit in the French ; 
 [f they miscarry, we miscarry too. 
 
 Snl. That misbegotten devil, Faulconbridge, 
 In spite of spite, alone upholds the day. 
 
 Fein. They say, king John, sore sick, hath left 
 tlje field. 
 
 Enter Melun mounded, and led by soldiers. 
 
 .Mel. Lead me to the revolts of England here. 
 
 Sal. When we were happy, we had other names. 
 
 Pern. It is the count Melun. 
 
 Sal. Wounded to death. 
 
 Me I. Fly, noble English, you are bought and sold ; ' 
 Unthread the rude eye of rebellion, 
 And welcome home again discarded faith. 
 Seek out king John, and fall before his feet ; 
 For, if the French be lords of this loud day, 
 He 10 means to recompense the pains you take, 
 By cutting off your heads : Thus hath he sworn, 
 And I with him, and many more with me, 
 Upon the altar at Saint Edmund's-Bury ; 
 Even on that altar, where we swore to you 
 Dear amity and everlasting love. 
 
 (1) Face down. (2) Leap over the hatch. (5) Nest. (6) Needles. (7) Boast. (8) Sky's. 
 
 (3) Cgvered, (4) The crowing cf a cock. (9) A proverb intimating treachery. (10) Lewis.
 
 kcene V, VI, VII 
 
 KING JOHN. 
 
 359 
 
 Sal. May this be possible ? may this be true ? 
 
 JVle/. Have I not hideous death within my view, 
 Retaining but a quantity of life ; 
 Which bleeds away, even as a form of wax 
 Resolved from his figure 'gainst the fire ?' 
 What in the world should make me now deceive, 
 Since I must lose the use of all deceit ? 
 Why should I then be false ; since it is true, 
 That I must die here, and live hence by truth ? 
 I say again, if Lewis do win the day, 
 He is forsworn, if e'er those eyes of yours 
 Behold another day break in the east : 
 Butevcn this night, whoseblack contagious breath 
 Already smokes about the burning crest 
 Of the old, feeble, and day-wearied sun, 
 Even this ill night, your breathing shall expire ; 
 Paying the fine of rated treachery, 
 Even with a treacherous fine of all your lives, 
 If Lewis, by your assistance, win the day. 
 Commend me to one Hubert, with your king; 
 The love of him, and this respect besides, 
 For that my grandsire was an Englishman, 
 Awakes my conscience to confess all this. 
 In lieu 3 whereof, I pray you, bear me hence 
 From forth the noise and rumour of the field ; 
 Where I may think the remnant of my thoughts 
 In peace, and part this body and my soul 
 With contemplation and devout desires. 
 
 Sal. We do believe thee, And beshrew 3 my soul, 
 But I do love the favour and the form 
 Of this most fair occasion, by the which 
 We will untread the steps of damned flight ; 
 And, like a bated and retired flood, 
 Leaving our rankness and irregular course, 
 Stoop low within those bounds we have o'erlook'd, 
 And calmly run on in obedience, 
 
 Even to our ocean, to our great kincr John. 
 
 My arm shall give thee help to bear thee hence ; 
 
 For I do see the cruel pangs of death 
 
 Right 4 in thine eye. Away, my friends ! New 
 
 flight ; 
 And happy"newness, s that intends old right. 
 
 [Exeunt, leadln g off Melun. 
 SCENE V.The same. The French camp. 
 Enter Lewis and his train. 
 
 Lew. The sun of heaven, methought, was loath 
 
 to set ; 
 
 But stay'd, and made the western welkin 6 blush, 
 When the English measur'd backward their own 
 
 ground, 
 
 In faint retire : O, bravely came we oflT, 
 When with a volley of our needless shot, 
 After such bloody toil, we bid good night ; 
 And wound our tatter'd colours clearly up, 
 Last in the field, and almost lords of it ! 
 
 Enter a Messenger. 
 
 J\Iess. Where is my prince, the dauphin ? 
 Lew. Here : What news ? 
 
 Mess. The count Melun is slain; the English 
 
 lords, 
 
 By his persuasion, are again fallen off: 
 And your supply, which you have wish'd so long, 
 Are east away, and sunk, on Goodwin sands. 
 Lew. Ah, foul shrewd news ! Beshrew thy vcrv 
 
 heart ! 
 
 I did not think to be so snd to-night, 
 As this hath made me. Who was he, that said, 
 King John did fly, an hour or two before 
 The stumbling night did part our weary powers ? 
 
 !1) In allusion to the images made by witches. 
 2) Place. (3) 111 betide. (4) Ivhmediate. 
 (5) Innovation. (6) Sky. 
 
 Mess. Whoever spoke it, it is true, my lord. 
 
 Lew. Well ; keep good quarter,' and good care 
 
 to-night ; 
 
 The day shall not be up so soon as I, 
 To try the fair adventure of to-morrow. [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE VI. Jin open place in the neighbour- 
 hood of Swinstead abbey. Enter the Bastard 
 and Hubert, meeting. 
 
 Hub. Who's there ? speak, ho ! speak quickly, 
 or I shoot. 
 
 Bast. A friend : What art thou ? 
 
 Hub. Of the part of England. 
 
 Bast. W T hither dost thou go ? 
 
 Hub. What's that to thee ? Why may not I 
 
 demand 
 Of thine affairs, as well as thou of mine ? 
 
 Bast. Hubert, I think. 
 
 Hub. Thou hast a perfect thought : 
 
 I will, upon all hazards, well believe 
 Thou art my friend, that know'st my tongue so well : 
 Who art thou? 
 
 Bast. Who thou wilt: an if you please, 
 
 Thou may'st befriend me so much, as to think, 
 I come one way of the Plantagenets. 
 
 Hub. Unkind remembrance ! thou, and eyeless 
 
 night, 
 
 Have done me shame : Brave soldier, pardon me, 
 That any accent, breaking from thy tongue, 
 Should 'scape the true acquaintance of mine ear. 
 
 Bast. Come, come ; sans 8 compliment, what 
 news abroad ? 
 
 Hub. Why, here walk I, in the black brow of 
 
 night, 
 To find you out. 
 
 Bast. Brief, then ; and what's the news ? 
 
 Hub. 0, my sweet sir, news fitting to the night, 
 Black, fearful, comfortless, and horrible. 
 
 Bast. Show me the very wound of this ill news; 
 I am no woman, I'll not swoon at it. 
 
 Hub. The king, I fear, is poison'd by a monk : 
 I left him almost speechless, and broke out 
 To acquaint you with this evil ; that you might 
 The better arm you to the sudden time, 
 Than if you had at leisure known of this. 
 
 Bast . How did he take it ? who did taste to him ? 
 
 Hub. A monk, I tell you ; a resolved villain, 
 Whose bowels suddenly burst out : the king 
 Yet speaks, and, peradventure, may recover. 
 
 Bast. Who didst thou leave to tend his majesty? 
 
 Hub. Why, know you not? the lords are all 
 
 come hack, 
 
 And brought prince Henry in their company ; 
 At whose request the king hath pardon'd them, 
 And they are all about his majesty. 
 
 Bast. Withhold thine indignation, mighty heaven, 
 
 And tempt us not to bear above our power ! . 
 
 I'll tell thee, Hubert, half my power 9 this night, 
 Passing these flats, are taken by the tide, 
 These Lincoln washes have devoured them ; 
 Myself, well-mounted, hardly have escap'd. 
 Away, before ! conduct me to the king ; 
 I doubt he will be dead, or ere I come. [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE VII. The orchard of Sioinstead abbey. 
 
 Enter Prince Henry, Salisbury, and Bigot. 
 
 P. Hen. It is too late ; the life of all his blood 
 
 Is touch'd corruptibly ; and his pure brain 
 
 (Which some suppose the soul's frail dwellin"- 
 
 house,) 
 Doth, by the idle comments that it make?, 
 
 (7) In your posts or stations. 
 
 (8) Without. (9) Forces,
 
 300 
 
 KING JOHN. 
 
 Foretel the ending of mortality. 
 Enter Pembroke. 
 
 Pern. His highness yet doth speak ; and holds 
 
 belief, 
 
 That, being brought into the open air, 
 It would aUay the burning quality 
 Of that fell poison which assaileth him. 
 
 P. Hen. Let him be brought into the orchard 
 
 here. 
 Doth he still rage ? [Exit Bigot. 
 
 Pern. He is more patient 
 
 Than when you left him ; even now he sung. 
 
 P. Hen, vanity of sickness ! fierce extremes, 
 In their continuance, will not feel themselves. 
 Death, having prey'a upon the outward parts, 
 Leaves them insensible ; and his siege is now 
 Asainst the mind, the which he pricks and wounds 
 With many legions of strange fantasies ; 
 Which, in their throng and press to that last hold, 
 Confound themselves. 'Tis strange, that death 
 
 should sing. 
 
 I am the cygnet to this pale faint swan, 
 Who chants a doleful hymn to his own death ; 
 And, from the organ-pipe of frailty, sings 
 His soul and body to their lasting rest. 
 
 Sal. Be of good comfort, prince; for you are born 
 To set a form upon that indigest 
 Which he hath left so shapeless and so rude. 
 
 Re-enter Bigot and attendants, who bring in King 
 John in a chair. 
 
 K. John. Ay, marry, now my soul hath elbow- 
 room; 
 
 It would not out at windows, nor at doors. 
 There is so hot a summer in my bosom, 
 That all my bowels crumble up to dust : 
 I am a scribbled form, drawn with a pen 
 Upon a parchment ; and against this fire 
 Do I shrink up. 
 
 P. Hen. How fares your majesty ? 
 
 K. John. Poison'd, ill fare ; dead, forsook, 
 
 cast off: 
 
 And none of you will bid the winter come, 
 To thrust his icy fingers in my maw ; 
 Nor let my kingdom's rivers take their course 
 Through my burn'd bosom ; nor entreat the north 
 To make his bleak winds kiss my parched lips, 
 And comfort me with cold : I do not askyou much, 
 I beg cold comfort ; and you are so strait, 1 
 And so ingrateful, you deny me that. 
 
 P. Hen. O, that there were some virtue in my 
 
 tears, 
 That might relieve you ! 
 
 K. John. The salt in them is hot. 
 
 Within me is a hell ; and there the poison 
 Is, as a fiend, confin'd to tyrannize 
 On unreprievable condemned blood. 
 Enter the Bastard. 
 
 Bast. O, I am scalded with my violent motion, 
 And spleen of speed to see your majesty. 
 
 K. John. cousin, thou art come to set mine eye : 
 The tackle of my heart is crack'd and burn'd ; 
 And all the shrouds, wherewith my life should sail, 
 Are turned to one thread, one little hair : 
 My heart hath one poor string to stay it by, 
 Which holds but till thy news be uttered ; 
 And then all this thou see'st, is but a clod, 
 And module 1 of confounded royalty. 
 
 Bast. The dauphin is preparing hithenvard ; 
 Where, heaven he knows, how we shall answer him : 
 For, in a night, the best part of my power, 
 
 (1) Narrow, avaricious. 
 
 (2) Model. 
 
 As I upon advantage did remove, 
 Were in the washes all unwarily,,- 
 Devoured by the unexpected flood. 
 
 [The king dies. 
 
 Sal. You breathe these dead news in as dead an 
 
 ear. 
 My liege ! my lord ! But now a king, now thus. 
 
 P. Hen. Even so must I run on, and even so stop. 
 What surety of the world, what hope, what stay, 
 When this was now a king, and now is clay ! 
 
 Bast. Art thou gone so 1 I do but stay behind, 
 To do the office for thee of revenge ; 
 And then my soul shall wait on thee to heaven, 
 
 As it on earth hath been thy servant still. 
 
 Now, now, you stars, that move in your right 
 
 spheres, 
 Where be your powers ? Show now your mended 
 
 faiths ; 
 
 And instantly return with me again, 
 To push destruction, and perpetual shame, 
 Out of the weak door of our fainting land: 
 Straight let us seek, or straight we shall be sought ; 
 The dauphin rages at our very heels. 
 
 Sal. It seems, you know not then so much as we : 
 The cardinal Pandulph is within at rest, 
 Who half an hour since came from the dauphin ; 
 And brings from him such offers of our peace, 
 As we with honour and respect may take, 
 With purpose presently to leave this war. 
 
 Bast. He will the rather do it, when he sees 
 Ourselves well sinewed to our defence. 
 
 Sal. Nay, it is in a manner done already ; 
 For many carriages he hath despatch'd 
 To the sea-side, and put his cause and quarrel 
 To the disposing of the cardinal : 
 With whom yourself, myself, and other lords, 
 If you think meet, this afternoon will post 
 To c6nsummate this business happily. 
 
 Bast. Let it be so : And you, my noble prince, 
 With other princes that may best be spar'd, 
 Shall wait upon your father's funeral. 
 
 P. Hen. At Worcester must his body be interr'd ; 
 For so he will'd it. 
 
 Bast. Thither shall it then. 
 
 And happily may your sweet self put on 
 The lineal state and glory of the land ! 
 To whom, with all submission, on my knee, 
 I do bequeath my faithful services 
 And true subjection everlastingly. 
 
 Sal. And the like tender of our love we make, 
 To rest without a spot for evermore. 
 
 P. Hen. I have a kind soul, that would give you 
 
 thanks, 
 And kows not how to do it, but with tears. 
 
 Bast. O, let us pay the time but needful wo, 
 Since it hath been beforehand with our griefs. 
 This England never did (nor never shall) 
 Lie at the proud foot of a conqueror, 
 But %vhen it first did help to wound itself. 
 Now these her princes are come home again, 
 Come the three corners of the world in arms, 
 And we shall shock them : Nought shall make us 
 
 rue, 
 If England to itself do rest but true. [Exeunt. 
 
 The tragedy of King John, though not written 
 with the utmost power of Shakspeare, is varied 
 with a very pleasing interchange of incidents and 
 characters. The lady's grief is very affecting ; and 
 the character of the Bastard contains that mixture 
 of greatness and levity, which this author delighted 
 to exhibit. JOHNSON.
 
 KING RICHARD II. 
 Act V. Scene 3. 
 
 KING HENRY IV. PART I 
 Act V. &cenp 4.
 
 ( 361 ) 
 
 KING RICHARD II. 
 
 PERSONS REPRESENTED. 
 
 King Richard the Second. 
 
 Edmund ofLangley, Duke of York ; ? uncles to the 
 
 John of Gaunt, Duke of Lancaster ; $ King. 
 
 Henry, surnamed Bolingbroke, Duke of Here- 
 ford, son to John of Gaunt; afterwards King 
 Henry IV. 
 
 Duke of Aumerle, son to the Duke of York. 
 
 Mowbray, Duke of Norfolk. 
 
 Duke of Surrey. 
 
 Earl of Salisbury. Earl Berkley. 
 
 Bushy, ) 
 
 Bagot, > creatures to King Richard. 
 
 Green, ) 
 
 Earl of Northumberland : 
 
 Henry Percy, his son. 
 
 Lord Ross. Lord Willoughby.- Lord Fitzwater. 
 Bishop of Carlisle. Jlbbol of Westminster. 
 Lord Marshal ; and another Lord. 
 Sir Pierce ofExton. Sir Stephen Scroop. 
 Captain of a band of Welshmen. 
 
 Queen to King Richard. 
 Duchess o/Gioster. 
 Duchess o/York. 
 Lady attending o?i the Queen. 
 
 Lords, heralds, officers, soldiers, two gardeners, 
 keeper, messenger, groom, and other attendants. 
 
 Scene, disperscdly in England and Wales. 
 
 ACT I. 
 
 SCENE I. London. A room in the palace. En- 
 ter King Richard, attended; John o/ Gaunt, and 
 other nobles, with him. 
 
 King Richard. 
 
 John of Gaunt, lime-honour'd Lancaster, 
 Hast thou, according to thy oath and band, 1 
 Brought hither Henry Hereford thy bold son ; 
 Here to make good the boisterous late appeal, 
 Which then our leisure would not let us hear, 
 Against the duke of Norfolk, Thomas Mowbray ? 
 Gaunt. I have, my liege. 
 K. Rich. Tell me moreover, hast thou sounded 
 
 him, 
 
 If he appeal the duke on ancient malice ; 
 Or worthily as a good subject should, 
 On some known ground of treachery in him ? 
 Gaunt. As near as I could sift him on that ar- 
 gument, 
 
 On some apparent danger seen in him, 
 Aim'd at your highness ; no inveterate malice. 
 K. Rich. Then call them to our presence ; face 
 
 to face, 
 
 And frowning brow to brow, ourselves will hear 
 The accuser, and the accused, freely speak : 
 
 [Exeunt some attendants. 
 High-stomach'd are they both, and full of ire, 
 In rage deaf as the sea, hasty as fire. 
 
 Re-enter attendants, with Bolingbroke and Norfolk. 
 
 Baling. May many years of happy days befall 
 My gracious sovereign, my most loving liege ! 
 
 Nor. Each day still better other's happiness ; 
 Until the heavens, envying earth's good hap, 
 Add an immortal title to your crown ! 
 
 K. Rich. We thank you both : yet one but flat- 
 ters us, 
 
 As well appeareth by the cause you come ; 
 Namely, to appeal 2 each other of high treason. 
 Cousin of Hereford, what dost thou object 
 
 (1) Bond. (2) Charge. (3) Uninhabitable. 
 
 Against the duke of Norfolk, Thomas Mowbray ? 
 Baling: First (heaven be the record of my 
 
 speech !) 
 
 In the devotion of a subject's love, 
 Tendering the precious safety of my prince, 
 And free from other misbegotten hate, 
 Come I appellant to this princely presence. 
 Now, Thomas Mowbray, do I turn to thee, 
 And mark my greeting well ; for what I speak, 
 My body thau make good upon this earth, 
 Or my divine soul answer it in heaven. 
 Thou art a traitor, and a miscreant; 
 Too good to be so, and too bad to live ; 
 Since, th& more fair and crystal is the sKyk 
 The uglier seem the clouds that in it fly// 
 Once more, the more to aggravate the-itote, 
 With a foul traitor's name stuff I thy throat ; 
 And wish (so please my sovereign,) ere I move, 
 What my tongue speaks, my right-drawn sword 
 
 may prove. 
 
 Nor. Let not my cold words here accuse my zeal : 
 'Tis not the trial of a woman's war, 
 The bitter clamour of two eager tongues, 
 Can arbitrate this cause betwixt us twain : 
 The blood is hot, that must be cool'd for this, 
 Yet can I not of such tame patience boast, 
 As to be hush'd, and nought at all to say : 
 First, the fair reverence of your highness curbs me 
 From giving reins and spurs to my free speech ; 
 Which else would post, until it had return'd 
 These terms of treason doubled down his throat. 
 Setting aside his high blood's royalty, 
 And let him be no kinsman to my liege, 
 I do defy him, and I spit at him ; i 
 
 Call him a slanderous coward, and a villain : 
 Which to maintain, I would allow him odds ; 
 And me'jt him, were I tied to run a-foot 
 Even to the frozen ridges of the Alps, 
 Or any other ground inhabitable 3 
 j Where _ever Englishman durst set his foot. 
 Mean time, let this defend my loyalty, 
 By all my hopes, most falsely doth he lie. 
 Baling. Pale trembling coward, there I throw 
 
 my gage, 
 
 2 Z
 
 362 
 
 KING RICHARD II. 
 
 Act I. 
 
 Disclaiming here the kindred of a king ; 
 And_ lay aside my high blood's royalty, 
 Which fear, not reverence, makes thee to except : 
 If guilty dread hath left thee so much strength, 
 As to take up mine honour's pawn, then stoop ; 
 Bv that, and all the rites of knighthood else, 
 Will I make good against thee, arm to arm, 
 What I have spoke, or thou canst worse devise. 
 
 Nor. I take it up ; and, by that sword I swear, 
 Which gently lay'd my knighthood on my shoulder, 
 I'll answer thee in any fair degree, 
 Or chivalrous design of knightly trial : 
 And. when I mount, alive may I not light, 
 If I be fraitor, or unjustly fight ! 
 K. Rich. What doth our cousin lay to Mow- 
 bray's charge ? 
 
 It must be great, that can inherit 1 us 
 So much as of a thought of ill in him. 
 Baling. Look, what I speak my life shall prove 
 
 it true ; 
 
 That Mowbray hath rcceiv'd eightthousand nobles, 
 In name of lending:* for your highness' soldiers ; 
 The which he kithdetain'd for lewd 2 employments, 
 Like a false traitor, and injurious villain. 
 Besides I say, and will in battle prove, 
 Or here, or elsewhere, to the farthest verge 
 That ever was survey'd by English eye, 
 That all the treasons, for these eighteen years 
 Complotted and contrived in this land, 
 Fetch from false Mowbray their first head anc 
 
 spring. 
 
 Further I say, and further will maintain 
 Upon his bad life, to make all this good, 
 That he did plot the duke of Gloster's death ; 
 Suggest 3 his soon-believing adversaries ; 
 And, consequently, like a traitor coward, 
 Sluic'd out his innocent soul through streams of 
 
 blood : 
 
 Which blood, like sacrificing Abel's, cries, 
 Even from the tongueless caverns of the earth, 
 To me for justice, and rough chastisement; 
 And by the glorious worth of my descent, 
 This arm shall do it, or this life be spent. 
 K. Rich. How high a pitch his resolution 
 
 soars ! 
 Thomas of Norfolk, what say'st thou to this ? 
 
 Nor. 0, let my sovereign turn away his face, 
 And bid his ears a little while be deaf, 
 Till I have told this slander of his blood, 4 
 How God, and good men, hate so foul a liar. 
 K. Rich. Mowbray, impartial are our eyes, and 
 
 ears : 
 
 Were he my brother, nay, my kingdom's heir, 
 (As he is but my father's brother's son,) 
 Now by my sceptre's awe I make a vow, 
 Such neighbour nearness to our sacred blood 
 Should nothing privilege him, nor partialize 
 The unstooping firmness of my upright soul; 
 He is our subject, Mowbray, so art thou ; 
 Free speech, and fearless, I to thee allow. 
 
 Nor. Then, bolingbroke, as low as to thy heart, 
 Through the false passage of thy throat, thou liest ! 
 Three parts of that receipt I had for Calais, 
 Disburs'd I duly to his highness' soldiers: 
 The other part reserv'd I by consent ; 
 For that my sovereign liege was in my debt, 
 Upon remainder of a dear account, 
 Since last I went to France to fetch his queen 
 
 Now swallow down that lie. For Gloster's 
 
 death, 
 
 I slew him not ; but to my own disgrace, 
 
 tj) Possess. (2) Wicked. 
 (4) Reproach to his ancestry. 
 
 |Sj Prompt. 
 
 Charged. 
 
 Neglected my sworn duty in that case. 
 
 For you, my noble lord of Lancaster, 
 
 The honourable father to my foe, 
 
 Once,did I lay an ambush for your life, 
 
 A trespass that doth vex my grieved soul . 
 
 But, ere I last receiv'd the sacrament, 
 
 I did confess k ; and exactly begg'd 
 
 Your grace's pardon, and, I hope, I had it. 
 
 This is my fault : As for the rest appeal'd,* 
 
 It issues irom the rancour of a villain, 
 
 A recreant and most degenerate traitor : 
 
 Which in myself I boldly will defend ; 
 
 And interchangeably hurl down my gage 
 
 Upon this overweening 6 traitor's foot, 
 
 To prove myself a loyal gentleman 
 
 Even in the best blood chamber'd in his bosom : 
 
 In haste whereof, most heartily I pray 
 
 Your highness to assign our trial day. 
 
 K. Rich. Wrath-kindled gentlemen, be rul'd bj 
 
 me ; 
 
 Let's purge this choler without letting blood : 
 This we prescribe though no physician ; 
 Deep malice makes too deep incision : 
 Forget, forgive ; conclude, and be agreed ; 
 Our doctors say, this is no time to bleed. 
 Good uncle, let this end where it begun ; 
 We'll calm the duke of Norfolk, you your son. 
 
 Gaunt. To be a make-peace shall become my 
 
 age ; 
 Throw down, my son, the duke of Norfolk's gage. 
 
 A". Rich. And, Norfolk, throw down his. 
 
 Gaunt. When, Harry ? when ? 
 
 Obedience bids, I should not bid again. 
 
 K. Rich. Norfolk, throw down ; we bid; there 
 is no boot. 1 
 
 Nor. Myself I throw, dread sovereign, at thy 
 
 foct : 
 
 My life thou slialt command,, but not my shame : 
 The one my duty owes ; but my fair name, 
 (Despite ol death, that lives upon my grave,) 
 To dark dishonour's use, thou shalt not have. 
 I am disgrac'd, impeach'd, and baffled here ; 
 Pierc'd to the soul with slander's venom'd spear ; 
 The_ which no balm can cure, but his heart-blood 
 Which breath'd this poison. 
 
 K. Rich. Rage must be withstood : 
 
 Give me his gage : Lions make leopards tame. 
 
 Nor. Yea, but not change their spots : take but 
 my shame, . 
 
 And I resign my gage. My dear dear lord, 
 The purest treasure mortal times afford, 
 Is spotless reputation ; that away, 
 Men are but gilded loam, or painted clay. 
 A jewel in a ten-times-barr'd-up chest 
 U*-a bold spirit in a loyal breast. 
 Mine honour is my life ; both grow in one ; 
 Take honour from me, and my life is done : 
 Then, dear my liege, mine honour let me try \l 
 In that I live, and for that will I die. 
 
 K. Rich. Cousin, throw down your gage ; do 
 you begin. 
 
 Boling. O, God defend my soul from such foul 
 
 sin ! 
 
 shall I seem crest-fallen in my father's sight ? 
 3r with pale bejrgar-fear impeach my height 
 Before this outdar'd dastard ! Ere my tongue 
 shall wound my honour with such feeble wrong, 
 3r sound so base a parle, my teeth shall tear 
 The slavish motive of recanting fear ; 
 And spit it bleeding in his high disgrace, 
 kVhere shame doth harbour, even in Mpwbray's 
 face. [Exit Gaunt, 
 
 (6) Arrogant. (7) No advantage in delay. 

 
 Sttnt II, III. 
 
 KING RICHARD II. 
 
 363 
 
 K. Rich. W wer not born to ue, but to com-! And throw the rider headlong m the lists, 
 
 mand : 
 
 Which since we cannot do to make you friends, 
 Be ready, as your lives'shall answer it, 
 At Coventry, upon Saint Lambert's day ; 
 There shall your swords and lances arbitrate 
 The swelling difference of your settled hate; 
 Since we cannot atone 1 you, we shall see 
 Justice design 2 the victor's chivalry. 
 Marshal, command our officers at arms 
 Be ready to direct these home alarms. 
 
 A caitiff* recreant* to my cousin Hereford ! 
 Farewell, old Gaunt ; thy sometime brother's wife, 
 With her companion grief must end her life. 
 | Gaunt. Sister, farewell : I must to Coventry : 
 ; As much good stay with thee, as go with me ! 
 Duch. Yet one word more ; Grief boundeth 
 
 where it falls, 
 
 j Not with the empty hollowness, but weight : 
 I take my leave before I have begun ; 
 [Exeunt. jFor sorrow ends not when it seemethdone. 
 Commend me to my brother, Edmund York. 
 
 SCENE II. The same. A room in the Duke of, L thig is all : _ N * V yet de p art not so ; 
 Lancaster's palace . Enter Gaunt, and Duchess j T1 ' h this be M , do n 
 
 o/Gloster. 
 
 Gaunt. Alas ! the part 3 1 had in Gloster's blood 
 Doth more solicit me, than your exclaims, 
 To stir against the butchers of his life. 
 But since correction lieth in those hands, 
 Which made the fault that we cannot correct, 
 Put we our quarrel to the will of heaven ; 
 Who, when he sees the hours ripe on earth, 
 Will rain hot vengeance on offenders' heads. 
 
 Duch. Finds brotherhood in thee no sharper 
 
 spur ? 
 
 Hath love in thy old'blood no living fire ? 
 Edward's seven sons, whereof thyself art one, 
 Were as seven phials of his sacred blood, 
 Or seven fair branches springing from one root: 
 Some of those seven are dried by nature's course, 
 Some of those branches by the destinies cut: 
 But Thomas, my dear lord, my life, my Gloster, 
 One phial full of Edward's sacred blood, 
 One flourishing branch of his most royal root, 
 Is crack'd, and all the precious liquor spilt ; 
 Is hack'd down, and his summer leaves all faded, 
 By envy's hand, and murder's bloody axe. 
 Ah, Gaunt ! his blood was thine ; that bed, that 
 
 womb, 
 
 That metal, that self-mould, that fashion'd thee, 
 Made him a man ; and though thou liv'st, and 
 
 breath'st, 
 
 Yet art thou slain in him : thou dost consent 4 
 In some large measure to thy father's death, 
 In that thou seest thy wretched brother die, 
 Who was the model of thy father's life. 
 Call it not patience, Gaunt, it is despair : 
 In suffering thus thy brother to be slaughter'd, 
 Thou show'st the naked pathway to thy life, 
 Teaching stern murder how to butcher thee : 
 That which in mean men we entitle patience, 
 Is pale cold cowardice in noble breasts. 
 What shall I say ? to safeguard thine own life, 
 The best way is to 'venge my Gloster's death. 
 Gaunt. Heaven's is the quarrel ; for heaven's 
 
 substitute, 
 
 His deputy anointed in his sight, 
 Hath caus'd his death : the which if wrongfully, 
 Let heaven revenge ; for I may never lift 
 A.n ansrry arm against his minister. T^P I H ' 
 
 Duch. Where then, alas ! may I complain myself? | * rOC '' 
 
 , do not so quickly go ; 
 
 I shall remember more. Bid him 0, what? 
 With all good speed at Flashy' visit me. 
 Alack, and what shall good eld York there see, 
 But empty lodgings and unfurnish'd walls, 
 Unpeopled offices, untrodden stones ? 
 And what cheer there for welcome, but my groans ? 
 Therefore commend me ; let him not come there, 
 To seek out sorrow that dwells every where: 
 Desolate, desolate, will I hence, and die ; 
 The last leave of thee takes my weeping eye. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE HI. Gosford Green, near Coventry. 
 Lists set out, and a throne. Heralds, fyc. at- 
 tending. Enter the Lord Marshal, and Aumerle. 
 
 Mar. My lord Aurnerle, is Harry Hereford arm'd ? 
 
 Jhim. Yea, at all points ; and longs to enter in. 
 
 Mar. The duke of Norfolk, sprightfully and bold, 
 Slavs but the summons of the appellant's trumpet. 
 
 .jwm. Why then, the champions are prepar'd, 
 
 and stay 
 For nothing but his majesty's approach. 
 
 Flourish of trumpets. Enter King Richard, who 
 
 takes his seat on his throne; Gaunt, and several 
 noblemen, who take their places. Jl trumpet is 
 sounded, and answered by another trumpet with- 
 in. Then enter Norfolk in armour, preceded by 
 a herald. 
 
 K. Rich. Marshal, demand of yonder champion 
 The cause of his arrival here in arms : 
 Ask him his name ; and orderly proceed 
 To swear him in the justice of his cause. 
 
 Mar. In God's name, and the king's, say who 
 
 thou art, 
 
 And why thou com'st, thus knightly clad in arms : 
 Against what man thou com'st, and what thy 
 
 quarrel : 
 
 Speak trulv, on thy knighthood, and thv oath ; 
 And so defend thee heaven, and thy valour ! 
 
 Nor. My name is Thomas Mowbray, duke of 
 
 Norfolk ; 
 
 Who hither come engaged by my oath 
 (Which, heaven defend, a knia;ht should violate !) 
 Both to defend my loyalty and truth, 
 
 . . 
 
 . , ' kl , n "> my succeeding issue, 
 
 Gaunt. To heaven, the widow's champion and : A?amst the duke of Hereford that appeals me ; 
 defence. (And, by the grace of God, and this mine arm, 
 
 Duch. Why then, I will. Farewell, old Gaunt. 
 Thou go'st to Coventry, there to behold 
 Our cousin Hereford and fell Mowbray fight : 
 O, sit my husband's wrongs on Hereford's spear, 
 That it may enter butcher Mowbray's breast ! 
 Or, if misfortune miss the first career, 
 Be Mowbray's sins so heavy in his bosom, 
 That they may break his foaming courser's back, 
 
 (1) Reconcile. (2) Show. (3) Relationship. 
 (4) Assent. (5) A base villain. 
 
 To prove him, in defending of myself, 
 A traitor to my God, my king, and me : 
 And, as I truly fight, defend me heaven ! 
 
 [He takes his seat. 
 
 Tnimpet sounds. Enter Bolingbroke in armour, 
 preceded by a herald. 
 
 K. Rich. Marshal, ask yonder knight in arms, 
 Both who he is, and why lie cometh hither 
 
 (6) Cowardly. 
 
 (7) Her house in Essex,
 
 864 
 
 KING RICHARD II. 
 
 Acll. 
 
 Thus plated in habiliments of war ; 
 And formally according to our law 
 Depose him in the justice of his cause. 
 Juar, What is thy name ? and wherefore com'st 
 
 thou hither. 
 
 Before king Richard, in his royal lists ? 
 Against whom comest thou ; and what's thy quarrel ? 
 Speak like a true knight, so defend thee heaven ! 
 Baling. Harry of Hereford, Lancaster, and 
 
 Derby, 
 
 Am I ; who ready here do stand in arms, 
 To prove, by heaven's grace, and my body's valour, 
 In lists, on Thomas Mowbray, duke of Norfolk, 
 That he's a traitor, foul and dangerous, 
 To God of heaven, king Richard, and to me ; 
 And, as I truly fight, defend me heaven ! 
 
 Mar. On pain of death, no person be so bold, 
 Or daring-hardy, as to touch the lists ; 
 Except the marshal, and such officers 
 Appointed to direct these fair designs. 
 Boling. Lord marshal, let me kiss my sovereign's 
 
 hand, 
 
 And bow my knee before his majesty : 
 For Mowbray, and myself, are like two men 
 That vow a long and weary pilgrimage ; 
 Then let us take a ceremonious leave. 
 And loving farewell, of our several friends. 
 Mar. The appellant in all duty greets your high- 
 ness, 
 
 And craves to kiss your hand, and take his leave. 
 K. Kick. We will descend, and fold him in our 
 
 arms. 
 
 Cousin of Hereford, as thy cause is right, 
 So be thy fortune in this royal fight ! 
 Farewell, my blood ; which if to-day thou shed, 
 Lament we may, but not revenge thee dead. 
 Baling. O, let no noble eye profane a tear 
 For me, if I be gpr'd with Mowbray's spear ; 
 As confident, as is the falcon's flight 
 
 Against a bird, do I with Mowbray fight. 
 
 My loving lord, [To Lord Marshal.] I take my 
 
 leave of you; 
 
 Of you, my noble cousin, lord Anmerle : 
 Not sick, although I have to do with death ; 
 
 But lusty, voung, and cheerly drawing breach. 
 
 Lo, as at English feasts, so I regrcet 
 
 The daintiest last, to make (he end most sweet : 
 
 O thou, the earthly author of my blood, 
 
 [To Gaunt. 
 
 Whose youthful spirit, in me regenerate, 
 Doth with a two-fold vigour lift me up 
 To reach at victory above my head, 
 Add proof unto my armour with thy prayers ; 
 And with thy blessings steel my lance's point, 
 That it may enter Mowbray's waxen 1 coat, 
 And furbish 2 new the name of John of Gaunt, 
 Even in the lusty 'haviour of his son. 
 Gaunt. Heaven in thy good cause make thee 
 
 prosperous ! 
 
 Be swift, like lightning, in the execution ; 
 And let thy blows, doubly redoubled, 
 Fall, like amazing thunder, on the casque 3 
 Of thy adverse pernicious enemy : 
 Rouse up thy youthful blood, be valiant, and live. 
 Baling. Mine innocency, and Saint George to 
 
 thrive ! [He takes Iris seat. 
 
 Nor. [Rising.] However heaven, or fortune, cast 
 
 my lot. 
 
 There lives or dies, true to king Richard's throne, 
 A loyal, just, and upright gentleman : 
 Never did captive with a freer heart 
 
 (3) Helmet. 
 
 lii 
 
 1) Yielding. (2) Brighten up. 
 4) Play a part in a mask. 
 
 Cast off his chains of bondage, and embrace 
 His golden uncontroll'd enfranchisement, 
 More than my dancing soul doth celebrate 
 This feast of "battle with mine adversary. 
 Most mighty liege, and my companion peers, 
 Take from my mouth the wish of happy years : 
 As gentle and as jocund, as to jest, 4 
 Go I to fight ; Truth hath a quiet breast. 
 
 K. Rich. Farewell, my lord : securely I espy 
 
 Virtue with valour couched in thine eye. 
 
 Order the trial, marshal, and begin. 
 
 [The King aurf the. Lords return to their seals. 
 
 Mar. Harry of Hereford, Lancaster, and Derby, 
 Receive thy lance : and God defend the right ! 
 
 Boling. [Rising.] Strong as a tower in hope, I 
 cry amen. 
 
 .Mar. Go bear this lance [To on officer.] to 
 Thomas duke of Norfolk. 
 
 1 Her. Harry of Hereford, Lancaster, and Derby, 
 Stands here for God, his sovereign, and himself, 
 On pain to be found false and recreant, 
 
 To prove the duke of Norfolk, Thomas Mowbray, 
 A traitor to his God, his king, and him. 
 And dares him to set forward to the fight. 
 
 2 Her. Here standeth Thomas Mowbray, duke 
 
 of Norfolk, 
 
 On pain to be found false and recreant, 
 Both to defend himself, and to approve 
 Henry of Hereford, Lancaster, and Derby, 
 To tiod, his sovereign, and to him ; disloyal ; 
 Courageously, and with a free desire, 
 Attending but the signal to begin. 
 
 ilar. Sound, trumpets ; and set forward, com- 
 batants. \J1 charge, soundtd. 
 Stay,ithe king hath thrown his warder 5 down. 
 
 . Rich. Let them lay by their helmets and their 
 spear?, 
 
 And both return back to their chairs again : 
 
 Withdraw with us : and let the trumpets sound, 
 While we return these dukes what we decree. 
 
 [A long flourish. 
 Draw near, [To the combatants. 
 
 And list, what with our council we have done. 
 For that our kingdom's earth should not be soil'd 
 With that dear blood which it hath fostered ; 
 And for our eyes do hate the dire aspect 
 Of civil wounds plough'd up with neighbours' 
 
 swords ; 
 
 And for we think the eagle-winged pride 
 Of sky-aspiring and ambitious thoughts, 
 With rival-haling envy, ?et you on 
 To wake our peace, which in our country's cradle 
 Draws the sweet infant breath of gentle sleep ; 
 Which so rous'd up with boisterous untun'd drums, 
 Wilh harsh resounding trumpets' dreadful brav, 
 And grating shock of wrathful iron arms, 
 Might from our quiet confines frisht fair peace, 
 And make us wade even in our kindred's blood ; 
 
 Therefore, we banish you our territories: 
 
 You, cousin Hereford, upon pain of death, 
 Till twice five summers have enrich'd our fields, 
 Shall not regreet our fair dominions, 
 But tread the stranger paths of banishment. 
 Boling. Your will be done : This must my com- 
 fort be, 
 
 That sun, that warms you here, shall shine on me/ 
 And those his golden beams, to you here lent, / 
 Shall point on me, and gild my banishment. / 
 K. Rich. Norfolk, for thee remains a heavier 
 
 ' doom, 
 
 Which I with some unwillingness pronounce : 
 The fly-slow hours shall not determinate 
 
 (5) Truncheon. 
 
 (6) Nursed.
 
 Scene HI. 
 
 KING RICHARD li. 
 
 365 
 
 The dateless limit of thy dear exile ; 
 The hopeless word of never to return, 
 Breathe I against thec, upon pain of life. 
 
 Nor. A heavy sentence, my most sovereign liege 
 And all unlook'd for from yo'ur highness' mouth 
 A dearer merit, not so deep a maim 
 As to be cast forth in the common air, 
 Have I deserved at your highness' hand. 
 The language I have learn'd these forty years, 
 My native English, now I must forego : 
 And now my tongue's use is to me no more, 
 Than an unstringed viol, or a harp : 
 Or, like a cunning instrument cas'd up, 
 Or, being open, put into his hands 
 That knows no touch to tune the harmony. 
 Within my mouth vou have engaol'd my tongue, 
 Doubly portcullis^, 1 with my teeth, and lips ; 
 And dull, unfeeling, barren ignorance 
 Is made my gaoler to attend on me. 
 I am too old to fawn upon a nurse, 
 Too far in years to be a pupil now ; 
 What is thy sentence then, but speechless death, 
 Which robs my tongue from breathing nativ 
 breath ? 
 
 K. Rich. It boots thce not to be compassionate ; 5 
 After our sentence, plaining comes too late. 
 
 Nor. Then thus I turn me from my country's 
 
 light, 
 To dwell in solemn shades of endless night. 
 
 [Retiring. 
 
 K. Rich. Return again, and take an oath with 
 
 thee. 
 
 Lay on our royal sword your banish'd hands ; 
 Swear by the duty that you owe to heaven, 
 (Our part therein we banish with yourselves,) 
 To keep the oath that we administer: 
 You never shall (so help you truth and heaven !) 
 Embrace each other's love in banishment ; 
 Nor never look upon each other's face ; 
 Nor never write, regreet, nor reconcile 
 This lowering tempest of your home-bred hate ; 
 Nor never by advised 3 purpose meet, 
 To plot, contrive, or complot any ill, 
 'Gainst us, our state, our subjects, cr our laijd. 
 
 Boling. I swear. 
 
 Nor. And I, to keep all this. 
 
 Boling. Norfolk, so far as to mine enemy ; 
 By this time, had the king permitted us, 
 One of our souls had wander'd in the air, 
 Banish'd this frail sepulchre of our flesh, 
 As now our flesh is banish'd from this land : 
 Confess thy treasons, ere thou fly the realm ; 
 Since thou hast far to go, bear not along / 
 
 The clog?ingburden of a guilty soul. J 
 
 Nor. No, Bolingbroke ; if ever I were traitor, 
 My name be blotted from the book of Irfe, 
 And I from heaven banish'd, as from hence ! 
 But what thou art, heaven, thou, and I do know ; 
 And all too soon, I fear, the king shall rue. 
 Farewell, my liege: Now no way can I stray ; 
 Save back to England, all the world's my way. 
 
 (i'. x ;t. 
 
 K. Rich. Uncle, even in the glasses of thine eyes 
 I see thy grieved heart : thy sad aspect 
 Hath from the number of his banish'd years 
 Pluck'd four awav ; Six frozen winters spent, 
 Return [To Boling.] with welcome home from 
 
 P- 
 bam 
 
 inishment. 
 
 Boling. How long a time lies in one little word 
 Four lagging winters, and four wanton springs, 
 End in a word ; Such is the breath of kings. 
 
 (V) Barred. 
 (3) Concerted. 
 
 (2) To move compassion. 
 (4) 
 
 Consideration. 
 
 Gaunt. I thank my liege, that, in regard of me, 
 He shortens four years of my son's exile : 
 But little vantage shall I reap thereby ; 
 For, ere the six years, that he hath to spend, 
 Can change their moons, and bring their times 
 
 about, 
 
 My oil-dried lamp, and time-bewasted light. 
 Shall be extinct with age, and endless night; 
 My inch of taper will be burnt and done, 
 And blindfold death not let me see my son. 
 
 K . Rich. Why, uncle, thou hastmany years to live. 
 
 Gaunt. But not a minute, king, that thou canst 
 
 give: 
 
 Shorten my days thou canst with sullen sorrow, 
 And pluck nights from me, but not lend a morrow: 
 Thou canst help time to furrow me with age, 
 But stop no wrinkle in his pilgrimage ; 
 Thy word is current with him for my death ; 
 
 Why at our justice seem'st thou then to lower? 
 Gaunt. Things sweet to taste, prove in digestion 
 
 sour. 
 
 You urg'd me as a judge ; but I had rather, 
 You would have bid me argue like a father : 
 0, had it been a stranger, not my child, 
 To smooth his fault I should have been more mild: 
 A partial slander* sought I to avoid, 
 And in the sentence my own life destroy'd. 
 Alas, I look'd, when some of you should say, 
 I was loo strict, to make mine own away : 
 But- you gave leave to my unwilling tongue, ^r 
 Against my will, to do myself this wrong. ./^ 
 K. Rich. Cousin, farewell : and, uncle, bid 
 
 him so ; 
 Six years we banish him, and he shall go. 
 
 [Flourish. Exeunt K. Rich, and train. 
 Aum. Cousin, farewell: what presence must 
 
 not know, 
 From where you do remain, let paper show. 
 
 JVTnr. My lord, no leave take I ; for I will ride, 
 As far as land will let me, by your side. 
 
 Gaunt. O, to what purpose dost thou hoard thy 
 
 words, 
 
 That thou return'st no greeting to thy friends ? 
 ake my fe 
 
 I have too few to take my leave of you, 
 I When the tongue's office should be prodigal 
 To breathe the abundant dolour' of the heart. 
 Gaunt. Thy grief is but thy absence for a time. 
 Baling. Joy aosentj grief is present for that time. 
 Gaunt. What is six winters? they are quickly , 
 
 gone. 
 
 Baling. To men in joy ; but grief makes one \ 
 hour ten. ^ 
 
 Gaunt. Call it a travel that thou lak'st for '' 
 
 pleasure. 
 
 Bolin*. My heart will sigh, when I miscall it so, 
 Which finds it an enforced pilgrimage. 
 
 Gaunt. The sullen passage of thy weary steps 
 Esteem a foil, wherein thou" art to set 
 
 The precious jewel of thy home-return. 
 
 Boling. Nay, rather, every tedious stride I make 
 Will but remember me, what a deal of world 
 I wander from the jewels that I love. 
 Must I not serve a long apprenticehood 
 To foreign passages ; and in the end, 
 Having my freedom, boast of nothing else, 
 But that I was a journeyman to grief? 
 
 Gaunt. All places that the eye of heaven visit^ 
 Are to a wise man ports and happy havens : 
 
 (5) Had a part or share. 
 
 (6) Reproach of partiality. 
 
 (7) Grief,
 
 KING RICHARD II, 
 
 Act 1L 
 
 Teach thy necessity to reason thus ; 
 
 There is no virtue like necessity. 
 
 Think not, the king did banish thec ; 
 
 But thou the king : Wo doth the heavier sit, 
 
 Where it perceives it is but faintly borne. ./ 
 
 Go, say I sent thee forth to purchase honour, 
 
 And not the king exil'd thee : or suppose, 
 
 Devouring pestilence hangs in our air, 
 
 And thou art flying to a fresher clime. 
 
 Look, what thy soul holds dear, imagine it 
 
 To lie that way thou go'st, not whence thou com'st: 
 
 Suppose the singing birds, musicians ; 
 
 The grass whereon thou tread'st, the presence 1 
 
 strew'd ; 
 
 The flowers, fair ladies ; and thy steps, 110 more 
 Than a delightful measure, or a dance : 
 For gnarling 2 sorrow hath less power to bite 
 The man that mocks at it, and sets it light. 
 
 Baling. O, who can hold a lire in his liand, 
 By thinking on the frosty Caucasus ? 
 Or cloy the hungry edge of appetite, 
 By bare imagination of a feast ! 
 Or wallow naked in December snow, 
 By thinking on fantastic s;imir,ei's heat? 
 O, no ! the apprehension of the good, 
 Gives but the greater feeling to the worse : 
 Fell sorrow's tooth doth never rankle more, 
 . Than when it bites, but laneeth not the sore. 
 
 Gaunt. Come, come, my son, I'll bring thee on 
 
 thy way : 
 Had I thy youth, and cause, I would not stay. 
 
 Baling. Then, England's ground, farewell ; sweet 
 
 soil, adieu 
 Mv mother, and my nurse, that bears me yet ! 
 
 Where'er I wander, boast of this 1 can, 
 
 Though banish'd, yet a true-born Englishman. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE IV. The same. Jl room in the king's 
 castle. Enter King Richard, Bagot, and Green ; 
 Aumerle follotcing. 
 
 K. Rich. We did observe. Cousin Aumerle, 
 Howjar brought you high Hereford on his way? 
 
 wiitm. I brought high Hereford, if you call him so, 
 But to the next highway, and there I left him. 
 
 K. Rich. And, say, what store of parting tears 
 were shed ? 
 
 1um. 'Faith ; none by me : except the north- 
 east wind, 
 
 Which then blew bitterly against, our faces, 
 Awak'd the sleeping rheum ; and so by chance, 
 Did grace our hollow parting with a tear. 
 
 K. Rich, What said our cousin, when you parted 
 with him ? 
 
 Jlum. Farewell : 
 
 And, for my heart disdained that my tongue 
 Should so profane the word, that taught me craft 
 To counterfeit oppression of sueh grief, 
 That words seem'd buried in my sorrow's grave. 
 Marry, would the word farewell have lengthened 
 
 hours, 
 
 And added years to his short banishment, 
 HR should have had a volume of farewells ; 
 But, since it would not, he had none of me. 
 
 K. Rich. He is oureousin, cousin; but'tisdoubt, 
 When time shall call him home from banishment, 
 Whether our kinsman come to see his friends. 
 Ourself, and Bushy, Bagot here, and Green. 
 Observ'd his courtship to the common people : 
 How he did seem to dive into their hearts, 
 With humble and familiar courtesy ; 
 What reverence he did throw away on slaves ; 
 
 (1) Presence-chamber at court, (2) Growling, 
 
 Wooing poor craftsmen, with the craft of smiles, 
 
 And patient underbearing of his fortune, 
 
 As 'twere, to banish their affects with him. 
 
 OfF goes his bonnet to an oyster-wench ; 
 
 A brace of dravmen bid God speed him well, 
 
 And had the tribute of his supple knee, 
 
 With Thanks, my countrymen, my loving 
 
 friends; 
 
 As were our England in reversion his, 
 And he our sulijwts' next degree in hope. 
 
 Green. Well, he is gone ; and with him go these 
 
 thoughts. 
 
 Now for the rebels, which stand out in Ireland ; 
 Expedient 3 manage must be made, my liege ; 
 Ere further leisure yield them further means, 
 For their advantage, and your hiarhness' loss. 
 
 A'. Rich. We will ourself in person to this war. 
 And, for* our cotters with too great a court, 
 And liberal largess, are grown somewhat light, 
 We are enforc'd to farm our royal realm ; 
 The revenue whereof shall furnish us 
 For our affairs in hand : If that come short, 
 Our substitutes at home shall have blank charters ; 
 Whereto, when they shall know what men are rich, 
 They shall subscribe them for large sums of gold, 
 And send them after to supply our wants ; 
 For we will make for Ireland presently. 
 
 Enter Bushy. 
 
 Bushy, what news? 
 
 Bushy. Old John of Gaunt is grievous sick, my 
 
 lord ; 
 
 Suddenly taken ; and hath sent post-haste, 
 To entreat your majesty to visit him. 
 
 K. Rich. Where lies'he ? 
 
 Bushy. At Ely-house. 
 
 A'. Rich. Now put it, heaven, in his physician's 
 
 mind, 
 
 To help him to his grave immediately ! 
 The lining of his coffers shall make coats 
 To deck our soldiers for these Irish wars. 
 Come, gentlemen, let's all go visit him : 
 Pray God, we may make haste, and come too late ! 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 ACT II. 
 
 SCENE /.London. Jl room in Ely-house. 
 Gai nt on a couch ; the Duke of York, and others, 
 standing by him. 
 
 Gaunt. Will the king come ? that I may breathe 
 
 my last, 
 
 In wholesome counsel to his unstated youth. 
 York. Vex not yourself, nor strive not with your 
 
 breath ; 
 For all in vain comes counsel to his ear. 
 
 Gaunt. O, but they say, the tongues of dying men 
 Enforce attention, like deep harmony : 
 Where words are scarce, they are seldom spent in 
 
 vain ; 
 For they breathe truth, that breathe their words in 
 
 pain. 
 
 He, that no more must say, is listen'd more 
 Than they whom youth and ease have taught to 
 
 glose ; 6 
 More are men's ends mark'd, than their lives before : 
 
 The setting sun, and music at the close, 
 As the last taste of sweets, is sweetest last ; 
 Writ in remembrance, more than things long past : 
 Though Richard my life's counsel would not hear, 
 
 (3) Expeditious. (4) Because. (5) Flatter.
 
 Settle /. 
 
 KING RICHARD II. 
 
 367 
 
 MY death's sad tale may yet undeaf his ear. 
 Fort. No ; it is stopp'd \vith other flattering 
 
 sounds, 
 
 As, praises of his state : then, there are found 
 Lascivious metres ; to whose venom sound 
 The open ear of youth doth always listen : 
 Report of fashions in proud Italy ; 
 Whose manners still our tardy apiah nation 
 Limps after, in base imitation. 
 Where doth the world thrust forth a vanity 
 (So it be new, there's no respect how vilej) 
 That is not quickly buzz'd into his ears? 
 Then all too late comes counsel to be heard, 
 Where will doth mutiny with wit's regard. 
 Direct not him, whose way himself will choose ; 
 'Tis breath thou lack'st, and that breath wilt thou 
 
 lose. 
 
 Gaunt. Melhinks, I am a prophet new inspir'd ; 
 And thus, expiring, do foretel of him : . 
 His rash fierce blaze of not cannot last; 
 For violent fires soon burn out themselves : 
 Small showers last long,but sudden storms are short ; 
 He tires betimes, that spurs too fast betimes ; 
 With eager feeding, food doth choke the feeder : 
 Light vanity, insatiate cormorant, 
 Consuming means, soon preys upon itself. 
 This royal throne of kintrs, this scepter'd isle, 
 This earth of majesty, this seat of Mars, 
 This other Eden, demi-paradise ; 
 This fortress, built by nature for herself, 
 Against infection, and the hand of war ; 
 This happy breed of men, this little world ; 
 This precious stone set in the silver sea, 
 Which serves it in the office of a wall, 
 Or as a moat defensive to a house, 
 Against the envy of less happier lands: 
 This blessed plot, this earth, this realm, this 
 
 England, 
 
 This nurse, this teeming womb of royal kings, 
 Fear'd by their breed, and famous by their birth, 
 Renowned for their deeds as far from home 
 (For Christian service, and true chivalry,) 
 As is the sepulchre in stubborn Jewry, 
 Of the world's ransom, blessed Mary's son : 
 This land of such dear souls, this dear dear land, 
 Dear for her reputation through the world, 
 Is now leased out (I die pronouncing it,) 
 Like to a tenement or pelting 1 farm : 
 England, bound in with the triumphant sea, 
 Whose rocky shore beats back the envious siege 
 Of watery Neptune, is now bound in with shame, 
 With inky blots, and rotten parchment bonds ; 
 That England, that was wont to conquer others, 
 Hath made a shameful conquest of itself: 
 O, would the scandal vanish with my life, 
 How happy then were my ensuing death ! 
 
 Enter King Richard, and Queen ; Aumerle, Bushy, 
 Green, Bagot, Rcss, and Willoughby. 
 
 York. The king is come : deal mildly with his 
 
 youth ; 
 For young hot colts, being rag'd, do rage the more. 
 
 Queen. How fares our noble uncle, Lancaster? 
 
 A'. Rich. What comfort, man ? How is't with 
 aped Gaunt? 
 
 Gaimt. O, how that name befits my composition ! 
 Old Gaunt, indeed ; and gaunt 2 in being old : 
 Within me grief hath kept a tedious fast ; 
 And who abstains from meat, that is not gaunt ? 
 For sleeping England long time have I watch'd ; 
 Watching breeds leanness, leanness is all gaunt : 
 The pleasure, that some fathers feed upon, 
 
 (1) Paltry. (2) Lean, thin. (3) Mad. 
 
 I Is my strict fast, I mean my children's looks ; 
 And, therein fasting, hast thou made me gaunt : 
 I Gaunt am I for the grave, gaunt as a grave, 
 j Whose hollow womb inherits nought but bones. 
 
 K. Rich. Can sick men play so nicely with their 
 names ? f 
 
 Gaunt. No, misery makes sport to mock itself: 
 Since thou dost seek to kill my name in me, 
 I mock my name great king, to flatter thee. 
 
 K. Rich. Should dying men flatter with those 
 that live ? 
 
 Gaunt. No, no ; men living flatter those that die. 
 
 K. Rich. Thou, now a dying, say'st thou flat- 
 terest. me. 
 
 Gaunt. Oh no ; thou diest, though I the sicker be. 
 
 K. Rich. I am in health, I breathe, and see thee ill ? 
 
 Gaunt. Now, He that made me, knows I see 
 
 thee ill ; 
 
 III in myself to see, and in thee seeing ill. 
 Thy death-bed is no lesser than the land, 
 Wherein thou liest in reputation sick : 
 And thou, too careless (tatient as thou art, 
 Commit'st thy anointed body to the cure 
 Of those physicians that first wounded thee : 
 A thousand flatterers sit within thy crown, 
 Whose compass is no bigger than thy head ; 
 And yet, incaged in so small a verge, 
 The waste is no whit lesser than thy land. 
 O, had thy grandsire, with a prophet's eye, 
 Seen how his son's son should destroy his sons, 
 From forth thy reach he would have laid thy shame ; 
 Deposing thee before thou wert possess'd, 
 Which art possess'd 3 now to depose thyself. 
 Why, cousin, wert thou regent of the world, 
 It were a shame to let this land by lease : 
 But, for thy world, enjoying but this land, 
 Is it not more than shame, to shame it so ? 
 Landlord of England art thou now, not king: 
 Thy state of law is bondslave to the law ; 
 And thou 
 
 K. Rich. a lunatic lean-witted fool, 
 
 Presuming on an ague's privilege, 
 
 Dar'st with thy frozen admonition 
 
 Make pale otir cheek ; chasing the royal blood, 
 
 With fury, from his native residence. ' 
 
 Now by my seat's right royal majesty, 
 
 Wert thou not brother to great Fldward's son, 
 
 This tongue that runs so roundly in thy head, 
 
 Should run thy head from thy unreverend shoulders. 
 
 Gaunt. O, spare me not, my brother Ed ward's son, 
 For that I was his father Edward's son ; 
 That blood already, like the pelican, 
 Hast thou tapp'd out, and drunkenly carous'd : 
 My brother Gloster, plain well-meaning soul, 
 (Whom fair befall in heaven 'mongst happy souls ! ) 
 May be a precedent and witness good, 
 That thou respect'st not spilling Edward's blood : 
 Join with the present sickness that I have ; 
 And thy unkindness be like crooked age, 
 To crop at once a too-long wither'd flower. 
 Live in thy shame, but die not shame with thee ! 
 These words hereafter thy tormentors be ! 
 Convey me to my bed, then to my grave : 
 Love they to live, that love and honour have. 
 
 [Exit, borne ovt by his allrnJanls. 
 
 K. Rich. And let them die, that age and sullena 
 
 hare ; 
 For both hast thou, and both become the grave. 
 
 York. 'Beseech your majesty, impute his words 
 To wayward siekliness and ape in him: 
 He loves you, on mv life, and holds you dear 
 As Harry, duke of Hereford, were he here. 
 
 K. Rich. Right j you 'ay true : as Hereford'* 
 love, so his :
 
 KING RICHARD It. 
 
 Act II. 
 
 As theirs, so mine ; and all be as it is. 
 Enter Northumberland. 
 
 North. My liege, old Gaunt commends him to 
 your majesty. 
 
 K. Rich. What says he now ? 
 
 North. Nav, nothing ; all is said : 
 
 His tongue is now a stringfess instrument ; 
 Words, life, and all, old Lancaster has spent. 
 
 York. Be York the next that must be bankrupt so t 
 Though death be poor, it ends a mortal wo. 
 
 K. Rich. The ripest fruit first falls, and so doth he ; 
 His time is spent, our pilgrimage must be : 
 
 So much for that. Now for our Irish wars : 
 
 We must supplant those rough rug-headed kerns ; ' 
 
 Which live like venom ? where no venom else, 
 
 But only they, hath privilege to live. 2 
 
 And for these great affairs do ask some charge, 
 
 Towards our assistance, we do seize to us 
 
 The plate, coin, revenues, and moveables, 
 
 Whereof our uncle Gaunt did stand possess'd. 
 
 York. How long shall I be patient ? Ah, how long 
 Shall tender duty"make me suffer wrong ? 
 Not Gloster's death, nor Hereford's banishment, 
 Not Gaunt's rebukes, nor England's private wrongs, 
 Nor the prevention of poor Bolinp-broke 
 About his marriage, nor my own disgrace, 
 Have ever made me sour my patient cheek, 
 Or bend one wrinkle on my sovereign's face. 
 I am the last of noble Edward's sons, 
 Of whom thy father, prince of Wales, was first ; 
 In war, was never lion rag'd more fierce, 
 In peace, was never gentle lamb more mild, 
 Than was that young and princely gentleman : 
 His face thou ha_st, for even so look'd he, 
 Accomplish'd with the number of thy hours ; 3 
 But, when he frown'd, it was against the French, 
 And not against his friends : his noble hand 
 Did win what he did spend, and spent not that 
 Which his triumphant father's hand had won : 
 His hands were guilty of no kindred's blood, 
 But bloody with the enemies of his kin. 
 O, Richard ! York is too far gone with grief, 
 Or else he never would compare between. 
 
 K. Rich. Why, uncle, what's the matter ? 
 
 York. O, my liege, 
 
 Pardon me, if vou please ; if not, I pleas'd 
 Not to be pardon'd, am content withal. 
 Seek you to seize, and gripe into your hands, 
 The royalties and rights of banish'd Hereford ? 
 Is not Gaunt dead ? and doth not Hereford live ? 
 Was not Gaunt just ? and is not Harry true ? 
 Did not the one deserve to have an heir ? 
 Is not his heir a well-deserving son ? 
 Take Hereford's rights away, and take from time 
 His charters, and his customary rights ; 
 Let not to-morrow then ensue to-day ; 
 Be not thyself, for how art thou a king, 
 But by fair sequence and succession ? 
 Now, afore God (God forbid, I say Irue !) 
 If vou do wrongfully seize Hereford's rights, 
 Call in the letters patents that he hath 
 By his attornies-gencral to sue 
 His liverv,* and deny his ofter'd homage, 
 You pluck a thousand dangers on your head, 
 You lose a thousand well-disposed hearts, 
 And prick my tender patience to those thoughts 
 Which honour and allegiance cannot think. 
 
 K, Rich. Think what you will ; we seize into 
 our hands 
 
 (1) Irish soldiers. 
 
 (2) Alluding to the idea that no venomous rep- 
 tiles live in Ireland. 
 
 His plate, his goods, his money, and his lands. 
 York. I'll not be by, the while : My liege, 
 
 farewell : 
 
 What will ensue hereof, there's none can tell ; 
 But by bad courses may be understood, 
 that their events can never fall out good. [Exit. 
 . Rich. Go, Bushy, to the earl of Wiltshire 
 
 straight ; 
 
 Bid him repair to us, to Ely-house, 
 To see this business : To-morrow next 
 We will for Ireland ; and 'tis time. I trow ; 
 And we create, in absence of ourself, 
 Our uncle York, lord governor of England, 
 For he is just, and always loved us well. 
 Come on, our queen : to-morrow must wepart ; 
 Be merry, for our time of stay is short, [Flourish. 
 [Exeunt King, Queen, Bushy, Aumerle, 
 
 Green, and Bagot. 
 North. Well, lords, the duke of Lancaster is 
 
 dead. 
 
 Ross. And living too ; for now his son is duke. 
 Willo. Barely in title, not in revenue. 
 North. Richly in both, if justice had her right. 
 Ross. My heart is great ; but it must break wifh 
 
 silence, 
 
 Ere't be disburden'd with a liberal 5 tongue. 
 North. Nay, speak thy mind ; and let him ne'er 
 
 speak more, 
 
 That speaks thy words again, to do thee harm ! 
 Willo. Tends that thou'dst speak, to the duke 
 
 of Hereford ? 
 
 If it be so, out with it boldly, man ; 
 Quick is mine ear to hear of good towards him. 
 Ross. No good at all, that I can do for him ; 
 Unless you call it good to pity him, 
 Bereft and gelded" of his patrimony. 
 North. Now, afore heaven, 'tis shame, such 
 
 wrongs are borne, 
 
 In him a royal prince, and many more 
 Of noble blood in this declining land. 
 The king is not himself, but basely led 
 By flatterers ; and what they will inform. 
 Merely in hate, 'gainst any of us all, 
 That will the king severely prosecute 
 'Gainst us, our lives, our children, and our heirs. 
 Ross. The commons hath he pill'd 7 with grievou 
 
 taxes, 
 
 And lost their hearts : the nobles hath he fin'd, 
 For ancient quarrels, and quite lost their hearts. 
 
 Willo. And daily new exactions are devis'd ; 
 As blanks, benevolences, and I wot not what : 
 But what, o'God's name, doth become of this? 
 North. Wars have not wasted it, for warr'd he 
 
 hath not, 
 
 But basely yielded upon compromise, 
 That which his ancestors achiev'd with blows : 
 More hath he spent in peace, than they in wars. 
 Ross. The earl of Wiltshire hath the realm in 
 
 farm. 
 Willo. The king's grown bankrupt, like a broken 
 
 man. 
 North. Reproach, and dissolution, hangeth over 
 
 him. 
 
 Ross. He hath not money for these Irish wars, 
 His burdenous taxations notwithstanding, 
 But^by the robbing of the banish'd duke. 
 
 North. His noble kinsman: most degenerate king! 
 But, lords, we hear this fearful tempest sing, 
 Yet seek no shelter to avoid the storm : 
 We see the wind sit sore upon our sails, 
 
 (3) When of thy age. 
 
 (4) Taking possession. (5) Free. 
 (6) Deprived. (l) Pillaged.
 
 Scene //. 
 
 KING RICHARD H. 
 
 nd yet we strike not, but securely perish. ' More than your lord's departure weep not more's 
 
 Ross. We see the very wreck that we must suffer ; not seen ; 
 
 nd unavoided is the danger now, Or if it be, 'tis with false sorrow's eye, 
 
 And yet we strike not, but securely perish. ' 
 
 R< 
 And 
 For suffering so the causes of our wreck. 
 
 North, N ot so ; even through the hollow eyes of 
 
 death, 
 
 I spy life peering: ; but I dare not say 
 How near the tidings of our comfort is. 
 
 Wttlo. Nay, let us share thy thoughts, as thou 
 dost ours. 
 
 Ross. Be confident to speak, Northumberland : 
 We three are but thyself; and, speaking so, 
 Thy words are but as thoughts ; therefore, be bold. 
 
 North. Then thus : I have, from Port le Blanc, 
 
 a bay 
 
 In Brittany, received intelligence, 
 That Harry Hereford, Reignold lord Cobham 
 [The son of Richard earl of Arundel,] 
 That late broke from the duke of Exeter, 
 His brother, archbishop late of Canterbury, 
 Sir Thomas Erpingham, sir John Ramston, 
 Sir John Norberry, sir Robert Waterton, and Fran- 
 cis Quoint, 
 
 All these well furnish'd by the duke of Bretaene, 
 With eight tall 2 ships, three thousand men of war, 
 Are making hither with all due expedience, 3 
 And shortly mean to touch our northern shore : 
 Perhaps, they had ere this ; but that they stay 
 The first departing of the king for Ireland. 
 If then we shall shake off our slavish yoke, 
 Imp* out our drooping country's broken wing, 
 Redeem from broking pawn the blemish'd crown, 
 Wipe off the dust that hides our sceptre's gilt, 6 
 And make high majesty look like'itself. 
 Away, with me, in post to Ravenspurg : 
 But if you faint, as fearing- to do so, 
 Stay, and be secret, and myself will go. 
 
 Ross. To horse, to horse ! urge doubts to them 
 that fear. 
 
 WUlo. Hold out my horse, and I will first be 
 
 there. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE II. The same. A room in the palace. 
 Enter Queen, Bushy and Bagot. 
 
 Bushy. Madam, your majesty is too much sad : 
 You promis'd, when you parted with the king, 
 To lay aside life-harming heaviness, 
 And entertain a cheerful disposition. 
 
 Queen. To please the king, I did ; to please my- 
 self, 
 
 I cannot do it ; yet I know no cause 
 Why I should welcome such a guest as grief, 
 Save bidding farewell to so sweet a guest 
 As my sweet Richard : Yet, again, metliinks, 
 Some unborn sorrow, ripe in fortune's womb, 
 Is coming towards me ; and my inward soul 
 With nothing trembles : at something it grieves, 
 More than with parting from my lord the king. 
 
 Bushy. Each substance of a grief hath twenty 
 
 shadows, 
 
 Which show like grief itself, but are not so : 
 For sorrow's eye, glazed with blinding tears, 
 Divides one thing entire to many objects ; 
 Like perspectives, 8 which, rightly gaz'd upon, 
 Show nothing but confusion ; ey'd awry, 
 Distinguish form : so your sweet majesty, 
 Looking awry upon your lord's departure, 
 Finds shapes of grief, more than himself, to wail 
 Which, look'd on as it is, is nought but shadows 
 Of what it is not. Then, thrice-gracious queen, 
 
 (1) Perish by confidence in our security. 
 
 (2) Stout (3) Expedition. 
 
 (4) Supply with new feathers. (5) Gildimr, 
 
 Which, for things true, weeps things imaginary. 
 
 Quern. It may be so ; but yet my inward soul, 
 Persuades me, it is otherwise : Howe'er it be, 
 I cannot but be sad ; so heavy sad, 
 As, though, in thinking, on no thought I think, 
 Makes me with heavy nothing faint and shrink. 
 
 Bushy. 'Tis nothing but conceit,' my gracious 
 lady. 
 
 Queen. 'Tis nothing less : conceit is still derh'd 
 From some fore-father grief; mine is not so; 
 For nothing hath begot my something grief; 
 Or something hath the nothing that I grieve : 
 'Tis in reversion that I do possess ; 
 But what it is, that is not vet known ; what 
 I cannot name ; 'tis nameless wo, I wot. 8 
 Enter Green. 
 
 Green. God save your majesty ! and well met, 
 
 gentlemen : 
 I hope, the king is not yet shipp'd for Ireland. 
 
 Queen. Why hop'st thou so? 'tis better hope, 
 
 he is ; 
 
 For his designs crave haste, his haste good hope : 
 Then wherefore dost thou hope, he is not shipp'd ? 
 
 Green. That he, our hope, might have retired 
 
 his power, 9 
 
 And driven into despair an enemy's hope, 
 Who strongly hath set footing in this land : 
 The banish'd Bolingbroke repeals himself, 
 And with uplifted arms is safe arriv'd 
 At Ravenspurg. 
 
 Queen. Now God in heaven forbid ! 
 
 Green. O, madam, 'tis too true : and that Is 
 
 worse, 
 The lord Northumberland, his young son Henry 
 
 Percy, 
 
 The lords of Ross, Beaumond, and Willoughby, 
 With all their powerful friends, are fled to him. 
 
 Bushy. Why have you not proclaim'd Northum- 
 berland, 
 
 And all the rest of the revolting faction, 
 Traitors ? 
 
 Green. We have : whereon the earl of Worcester 
 Hath broke his staff! resign'd his stewardship, 
 And all the household servants fled with him 
 To Bolingbroke. 
 
 Queen. So, Green, thou art the midwife to my wo, 
 And Bolingbroke my sorrow's dismal heir : 
 Now hath my soul brought forth her prodigy ; 
 And I, a gasping new-deliver'd mother, 
 Have wo to wo, sorrow to sorrow join'd. 
 
 Bushy. Despair not, madam. 
 
 Queen. Who shall hinder me ? 
 
 I will despair, and be at enmity 
 With cozening hope ; he is a flatterer, 
 A parasite, a keeper-back of death, 
 Who gently would dissolve the bands oflife, 
 Which false hope lingers in extremity. 
 
 Enter York. 
 
 Green. Here comes the duke of York. 
 
 Queen. With signs of war about his aged neck ; 
 0, full of careful business are his looks' ! 
 Uncle, 
 For heaven's sake, speak comfortable words. 
 
 York. Should I do so, I should belie my thoughts. 
 Comfort's in heaven ; and we are on the earth, 
 Where nothing iives but crosses, care, and grief. 
 
 .. 
 
 (6) Pictures. 
 (8) Know. 
 
 (7) Fanciful conception* 
 (9) Drawn it back, 
 
 IA
 
 370 
 
 KING RICHARD It. 
 
 Ad II. 
 
 Your husband he is gone to save far off, 
 Whilst others come to make him lose at home : 
 Here am I left to underprop his land ; 
 
 Who, weak with age, cannot support myself: 
 
 Now comes the sick hour that his surfeit made ; 
 Now shall he try his friends that flatter'd him. 
 
 Enter a Servant. 
 
 ST. My lord, your son was gone before I came. 
 
 York. He was ? Why, so ! go all which way 
 
 it will ! 
 
 The nobles they are fled, the commons cold, 
 
 And will, I fear, revolt on Hereford's side. 
 
 Sirrah, 
 
 Get thee to Flashy, to my sister Gloster ; 
 Bid her send me presently a thousand pound : 
 Hold, take my ring. 
 
 Serr. My lord, I had forgot to tell your lordship : 
 To-day, as I came by, I called there ; 
 But I shall grieve you to report the rest. 
 
 York. What is it, knave 'I 
 
 Sen: An hour before I came, the duchess died. 
 
 York. God for his mercy ! what a tide of woes 
 Comes rushing on this worn! land at once ! 
 I know not what to do : I would to God, 
 (So my untruth 1 had not provok'd him to it,) 
 The king had cut off my head with my brother's. 
 What, are there posts despatched for Ireland ? 
 How shall we do for money for these wars ? 
 Come, sister, cousin, I would say : pray, pardon 
 
 me. 
 Go, fellow [To the Servant.] get thee home, provide 
 
 some carts, 
 And bring away the armour that is there. 
 
 [Exit Servant. 
 
 Gentlemen, will you go muster men ? if I know 
 How, or which way, to order these affairs, 
 Thus thrust disorderly into my hands, 
 Never believe me. Both are my kinsmen ; 
 The one's my sovereign, whom both my oath 
 And duty bids defend ; the other again, 
 Is my kinsman, whom the king hath wrong'd ; 
 Whom conscience and my kindred bids^o right. 
 Well, somewhat we must do. Come, cousin, I'll 
 Dispose of you : Go, muster up your men, 
 And meet me presently at Berkley-castle. 
 
 I should to Flashy too ; 
 
 But time will not permit : All is uneven, 
 And every thing is left at six and seven. 
 
 [Exeunt York and Queen. 
 
 Bushy. The wind sits fair for news to go to 
 
 Ireland, 
 But none returns. For us to levy power, 
 
 Proportionable to the enemy, 
 Is all impossible. 
 
 Green. Besides, our nearness to the king in love, 
 Is near the hate of those love not the king. 
 
 Bagot. And that's the wavering commons : for 
 
 their love 
 
 Lies in their purses j and whoso empties them, 
 By so much fills their hearts with deadly hate. 
 
 Bushy. Wherein the king stands generally con- 
 demn'd. 
 
 Bagot. If judgment lie in them, then so do we, 
 Because we ever have been near the king. 
 
 Green. Well, I'll for refuge straight to Bristol 
 
 castle ; 
 The earl of Wiltshire is already there. 
 
 Bushy. Thither will I with you : for little office 
 The hateful commons will perform for us ; 
 Except like curs to tear us all to pieces, 
 Will you go along with us ? 
 
 (1) DMoyaltjr, 
 
 Bagot. No ; I'll to Ireland to his majesty. / 
 Farewell : if heart's presages be not vain, 
 We three here part, that ne'er shall meet again. 
 
 Bushy. That's as York thrives to beat back Bo- 
 lingbroke. 
 
 Green. Alas, poor duke ! the task he undertakes 
 Is numb'ring sands, and drinking oceans dry ; 
 Where one on his side fights, thousands will fly. 
 
 Bushy. Farewell at once ; for once, for all, and 
 ever. 
 
 Green. Well, we may meet again. 
 
 Bagot. I fear me, never. [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE III. The W ilds in Glostershire. Enter 
 Bolingbroke and Northumberland, with Forces. 
 
 Bolin%. How far is it, my loro*, to Berkley now ? 
 
 North. Believe me, noble lord, 
 I am a stranger here in Glostershire. 
 'These high wild hills, and rough uneven ways, 
 .Draw out our miles ? and make them wearisome : 
 And vet your fair discourse hath been as sugar, 
 Making the hard way sweet and delectable. 
 But, I bethink me, what a weary way 
 From Ravenspurg to Cotswold, will be found 
 iln Ross and Willoughby, wanting your company ; 
 ! Which, I protest, hath very much beguil'd 
 jThe tecliousness and process of my travel : 
 ! But theirs is sweeten'd with the hope to have 
 The present benefit which I possess : 
 And hope to joy, is little less in joy, 
 Than hope enjoy 'd : by this the weary lords 
 Shall make their way seem short; as mine hath done 
 By sight of what I have, your noble company. 
 
 Baling. Of much less value is my company, 
 Than your good words. But who comes here ? 
 
 Enter Harry Percy. 
 
 North. It is my son, young Harry Percy, 
 Sent from my brother Worcester, wheneesoerer. 
 Harry, how fares your uncle ? 
 
 Percy. I had thought, my lord, to have learn'd 
 his health of you. 
 
 North. Why, is he not with the queen? 
 
 Percy. No, 'my good lord ; he hath forsook the 
 
 court, 
 
 Broken his staff of office, and dispcrs'd 
 The household of the king. 
 
 North. What ivas his reason ? 
 
 He was not so resolv'd, when last we spake to- 
 gether. 
 
 Percy. Because your lordship was proclaimed 
 
 traitor. 
 
 But he, my lord, is gone to Ravenspurg, 
 To offer service to the duke of Hereford ; 
 And sent me o'er, by Berkley, to discover 
 What power the duke of York had levied there ; 
 Then with direction to repair to Ravenspurg. 
 
 North. Have you forgot the duke of Hereford, 
 boy? 
 
 Percy. No, my good lord ; for that is not forgot, 
 Which ne'er I did remember : to my knowledge, 
 I never in my life did look on him. 
 
 North. Then learn to know him now; this is 
 the duke. 
 
 Percy. My gracious lord, I tender you my service, 
 Such as it is, being tender, raw, and young ; 
 Which elder days shall ripen, and confirm 
 To more approv'd service and desert. 
 
 Baling. I thank thee, gentle Percy; and be sure, 
 I count myself in nothing else so happy, 
 As in a soul rememb'ring my good friends ; 
 And, as my fortune ripens with thy love, 
 It shall be still thy true love's recompense .-
 
 Scene 1IL 
 
 KING RICHARD 11. 
 
 371 
 
 '.My heart this covenant makes, my hand thus 
 
 seals it. 
 
 > North. How far is it to Berkley ? And what stii 
 
 Keeps good old York there, with his men of war? 
 
 Percy. There stands the castle, by yon tuft o 
 
 trees, 
 
 Mann'd with three hundred men, as I have heard : 
 And in it are the lords of York, Berkley, and Sey- 
 mour ; 
 
 None else of name, and noble estimate. 
 Enitr Ross and Willoughby. 
 
 North. Here come the lords of Ross and Wil- 
 
 loughby, 
 
 Bloody with spurring-, fiery-red with haste. 
 Baling: Welcome, my lords: 1 wot, 1 your love 
 
 pursues 
 
 A banish'd traitor ; all my treasury 
 Is yet hut unfelt thanks, which, more enrich'd, 
 Shall be your love and labour's recompense. 
 Jioss. "Your presence makes us rich, most noble 
 
 lord. 
 
 Willo. And far surmounts our labour to at- 
 tain it. 
 Baling. Evermore thanks, the exchequer of the 
 
 poor; 
 
 Which, till my infant fortune comes to years, 
 Stands for my bounty. But who comes here ? 
 
 Enter Berkley. 
 
 North. It is my lord of Berkley, as I guess. 
 Berk. Mv lord of Hereford, my message is to you. 
 Baling. My lord, my answer is to Lancaster ; 
 And I am come to seek that name in England : 
 And I must lind that title in your tongue, 
 Before I make reply to aught you sr.v. 
 
 Berk. Mistake me not, my lord; 'tis not my 
 
 meaning', 
 
 To raze one title of your honour out : 
 To you, my lord, I come (what lord you will,) 
 From the most glorious regent of this land, 
 The duke of York ; to know, what pricks you on 
 To take advantage of the absent time, 2 
 And fright our native peace with self-born arms. 
 Enter York, attended. 
 
 Baling. I shall not need transport my words by 
 
 you ; 
 
 Here cornes his grace in person. My noble uncle ! 
 
 [Kneels. 
 York. Show me thy humble heart, and not thy 
 
 knee, 
 
 Whose dutv is deceivablc and false. 
 Baling. My gracious uncle ! 
 York. Tut,' tut! 
 
 Grace me no grace, nor uncle me no uncle : 
 I am no traitor's uncle ; ami that word grace, 
 In an ungracious mouth, is but profane : 
 Why have those banish'd and forbidden legs 
 Dar'd once to touch a dust of England's ground? 
 But then more why ; Why have they dar'd to 
 
 march 
 
 So many miles upon her peaceful bosom ; 
 Frighting her pale-fac'd villages with war, 
 And ostentation of despised arms? 
 Com'st thou because the anointed king is hence? 
 Why, foolish boy, the king is left behind, 
 And in my loyaf bosom lies his power. 
 Were I but now the lord of such hot youth, 
 As when brave Gaunt, thy father, and myself, 
 Rescued the Black Prince, that young Mars of men, 
 From forth the ranks of many thousand French ; 
 
 H) Know. (2) Time of the king's absence. 
 (3) Impartial. (4) The pcnoni who wrong him- 
 
 0, then, how quickly should this arm of mine, 
 Now prisoner to the palsy, chastise thee, 
 And minister correction to thy fault ! 
 
 Baling. My gracious uncle, let me knew my 
 
 fault ; 
 On what condition stands it, and wherein ? 
 
 York. Even in condition of the worst degree, 
 In gross rebellion, and detested treason : 
 Thou art a banish'd man, and here art come, 
 Before the expiration of thy time, 
 In braving arms against thy sovereign. 
 
 Baling. As I was banish'd, I was banish'd Here- 
 ford; 
 
 But as I come, I come for Lancaster. 
 And, noble uncle, I beseech your grace, 
 Look on my wrongs with an Indifferent 3 eye : 
 You are my father, for, methinks, in you 
 I see old Gaunt alive ; O then, my father ! 
 Will you permit that I shall stand condemn'd . 
 A wand'ring vagabond ; my rights and royalties 
 Pluck'd from my arms perforce, and given away 
 To upstart unthrifts ? Wherefore was I born ? 
 If that my cousin king be king of England, 
 It must be granted, I am duke of Lancaster. 
 You have a son, Aumerle, my noble kirman , 
 Had you first died, and he been thus trod down, 
 He should have found his uncle Gaunt a father, 
 To rouse his wrongs, 4 and chase them to the bay. 
 I am denied to sue my livery 5 here. 
 And yet my letters-patent give me leave : 
 .My father's goods are all distrain'd, and sold ; 
 And these, and all, are all amiss employ'd. 
 What would you have me do? I am a subject, 
 And challenge law .- Attornies are denied me ; 
 And therefore personally I lay my claim 
 To my inheritance of free descent. 
 
 North. The noble duke hath been too much 
 abus'd. 
 
 Ross. It stands your grace upon,* to do him rlyht. 
 
 Willo. Base men by his endowments are made 
 sreat. 
 
 York. My lords of England, let me tell you thin, 
 [ have had feeling of my cousin's wrongs, 
 And labour'd all I could to do him right : 
 But in this kind to come, in braving arms, 
 Be his own carver, and cut out his way, 
 To find out right with wrong, it may not be ; 
 And you, that do abet him in this kind, 
 Cherish rebellion, and are rebels all. 
 
 North. The noble duke hath sworn, his coming is 
 But for his own : and, for the risrht of that, 
 We all have strongly sworn to give him aid ; 
 And let him ne'er see joy, that breaks that oath. 
 
 York. Well, well, I see the issue of these arms ; 
 [ cannot mend it, I must needs confess, 
 Secause my power is weak, and all ill left : 
 3ut, if I could, by him that gave me life, 
 ! would attach you all, and make you stoop 
 Unto the sovereign mercy of the king ; 
 3ut, since I cannot, be it known to you. 
 i do remain as neuter. So, fare you well ; 
 Unless you please to enter in the castle, 
 \nd there repose you for this night. 
 
 Baling. An offer, uncle, that we will accept. 
 
 ut we must win your grace, to go with us 
 To Bristol castle ; which, they sav, is held 
 3v Bushy, Bagot, and their complices, 
 The caterpillars of the commonwealth, 
 >Vhich I have sworn to weed, and pluck away. 
 
 York. It may be, I will go with you : but yet 
 I'll pause ; 
 
 (5) Possession of my land, &c, 
 
 (6) It is your interest.
 
 372 
 
 KING RICHARD II. 
 
 Act III. 
 
 For I am loath to break our country's laws. 
 Nor friends, nor foes, to me welcome you are : 
 Things past redress, arc now with me past care. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE IV, 
 
 A camp in Wales, 
 bury, and a Captain: 
 
 Enter Salis- 
 
 Capt. Mylord of Salisbury, we have staid ten days, 
 And hardly kept our countrymen together, f 
 And yet we hear no tidings from the king ; 
 Therefore we will disperse ourselves : farewell. 
 
 Condemns you to the death : See them deliver'd 
 
 over 
 To execution and the hand of death. 
 
 Busky. More welcome is the stroke of death tome, 
 Thiin Bolinp;broke to England. Lords, farewell. 
 Green. My comfort is, that heaven will take 
 
 our souls. 
 
 And plague injustice with the pains of hell. 
 Baling. My lord Northumberland, see them 
 despatch'd. 
 [Exe. North, and others with prisoners. 
 
 Sal. Stay yet another day, thou trusty Welshman ; | Uncle, you say, the queen is at your house ; 
 
 The king reposeth all his confidence 
 In thee. 
 
 Capt. 'Tis thought, the king is dead ; we will not 
 stav. 
 
 For heaven's sake, fairly let her" be entreated : 
 Tell her, I send to her my kind commends ; 4 
 Take special care my greetings be deliver'd. 
 
 York. A gentleman of mine I have despatch'd 
 With letters of your love to her at large. 
 
 Baling. Thanks, gentle uncle. Come, lords, 
 away; 
 
 The bay-trees in our country arc all wither'd, 
 And meteors fright the fixed stars of heaven ; 
 The pale-fac'd moon looks bloody on the earth, ^ <v \ 
 
 And lean-look'd prophets whisper fearful change ; jTo fight with Glemlower and his complices ; 
 Rich men look sad, and ruffians dance and leap, | Awhile to work, and, after, holiday. [Exeunt. 
 The one, in fear to lose what they enjoy, 
 The other, to enjoy by rage and war : 
 These signs forerun the death or fall of kinss. 
 Farewell ; our countrymen are < r one and fled, 
 As well assur'd, Richard their kin? is dead. [Exit. 
 Sal. Ah, Richard! with the eyes of heavy mind, 
 I see thy glory, like a shooting star, 
 Fall to the base earth from the firmament ! 
 Thy sun sets weeping in the lowly west, 
 Witnessing storms to come, wo, and unrest : 
 Thy friends are fled, to wait upon thy foes ; 
 And crossly to thy good all fortune goes. [ Exit. 
 
 SCEJVE II. Tht coast of Wales, *i castle in 
 view. Flourish: dmms and trumpets. Enttr 
 A';ny Richard, Bishop of Carlisle, Aumerle, and 
 soldiers. 
 
 ACT III. 
 
 K. Rich. Barkloughly castle call you this at 
 
 hand ? 
 3tim. Yea, my lord: How brooks your sjace 
 
 the air, 
 
 After late tossing on the breaking seas ? 
 K. Rich. Needs must I like it well ; I weep for 
 
 .iy 
 
 :To stand upon my kingdom once again. 
 
 iDcar earth, I do salute thce with my hand, 
 [Though rebels wound thee with their horses' hoofs ; 
 As a long parted mother with her child 
 Plays fondly with her tears, and smiles in meeting ; 
 
 Baling. Bring forth these men. 
 
 And heavy-gaited toad?, lie in their way ; 
 
 Bushy, and Green, I will not vex your souls iDpinar annoyance to the treacherous feet,' 
 
 four bodies,) j Which with usurping steps do trample thee. 
 
 (Since presently your souls must part y 
 With too much urging your pernicious lives, 
 For 'twere no charity : yet, to wash your blood 
 From off my hands, here, in the view of men, 
 I will unfold some causes of your death. 
 You have misled a prince, a rcyal king, 
 A happy gentleman in blood and lineaments, 
 By you unhapp'ied and disfigur'd clean. ' 
 You have, in manner, with your sinful hours, 
 Made a divorce betwixt his queen and him ; 
 Broke the possession of a royal bed, 
 And stain'd the beauty of a fair queen's cheeks 
 
 With tears drawn from her eyes by your foul Hath power to keep you king, in spite of all. 
 
 Myself a prince, by fortune of my birth ; 
 Near to the king in plood ; and near in love, 
 
 Till you did make him misinterpret me, 
 
 Have stoop'd mv neck under your injuries. 
 And sigh'd my English breath in foreign clouds, 
 Eating the bitter bread of banishment : 
 Whilst you have fed upon my signories, 
 Dispark'd 2 my parks, and fell'd my forest woods ; 
 From my own windows torn my household coat, 3 
 Raz'd out my impress,* leaving me no sign, 
 Save men's opinions, and my living blood, 
 To show the world I am a gentleman. 
 This, and much more, much more than twice all this, 
 
 Yield stinging nettles to mine enemies : 
 And when they from thy bosom pluck a flower, 
 Guard it, I pray thee, with a lurking adder, 
 Whose double tongue may with a mortal touch 
 Throw death upon thy sovereign's enemies. 
 Mock not my senseless conjuration, lords ; 
 This earth shall have a feeling, and these stones 
 Prove armed soldiers, ere her native king 
 Shall falter under foul rebellious arms. 
 Bishop. Fear not, my lord ; that Power, that 
 made you king, 
 
 The means that heaven yields must be embrac'd, 
 And not neglected ; else, if heaven would, 
 And we will not, heaven's offer we refuse ; 
 The proffer'd means of succour and redress. 
 
 ,#r;m. He means, my lord, that we are too remiss ; 
 W r hlst Bolingbroke, through our security, 
 Grows strong and great, in substance, and in 
 friends. 
 
 K. Rich. Discomfortable cousin ! know'st thou 
 
 not, 
 
 That when the searching eye of heaven is hid 
 Behind the globe, and lights the lower world, 
 Then thieves and robbers range abroad unseen, 
 In murders and in outrage, bloody here ; 
 
 (1) Completely. (2) Thrown down the hedges, (3) Of arms, (4) Motto, (5) Commendations,
 
 Seem II. 
 
 KING RICHARD II. 
 
 373 
 
 But when, from under this terrestrial ball, 
 He fires the proud tops of the eastern pines, 
 And darts his light through every guilty hole, 
 Then murders, treasons, and detested sins. 
 The cloak of night being pluck'd from off their backs, 
 Stand bare and naked, trembling at themselves ? 
 So when this thief, this traitor, Bolingbroke, 
 Who all this while hath revell'd in the night, 
 Whilst we were wandering: with the antipodes, 
 Shall see us rising in our throne the east, 
 His treasons will sit blushing in his face, 
 Not able to endure the sigrht of day ; 
 But, self-affrighted, tremble at his sin. 
 Not all the water in the rough rude sea 
 Can wash the balm from an anointed king: 
 The breath of worldly men cannot depose 
 The deputy elected by the Lord : 
 For every man that Bolingbroke hath press'd, 
 To lift shrewd steel against our golden crown, 
 . God for his Richard hath in heavenly pay V 
 
 \ A glorious angel : then, if angels fight, 
 \Weak men must fall ; for heaven still guards thy 
 \ right. ^/ 
 
 Enter Salisbury. 
 
 Welcome, my lord ; How far offlies your power? 1 
 
 Sal. Nor near, nor further off, my gracious lord, 
 Than this weak arm : Discomfort guides my tongue, 
 And bids me speak of nothing but despair. 
 One day too late, I fear, my noble lord, 
 Hath clouded all thy happv days on earth : 
 O, call back yesterday, bid time return, 
 And thou shalt have twelve thousand fighting men! 
 To-day, to-day, unhappy day, too late, 
 O'erthrows thy joys, friends, fortune, and thy state; 
 For all the Welshmen, hearing tiiou wert dead, 
 ' Are gone to Bolingbroke, dispers'd, and fled. 
 
 .iitrn. Comfort, "mv liege: why looks your grace 
 so pale ? 
 
 A". Rich. But now, the blood of twenty thousand 
 men 
 
 Did triumph in my face, and they are fled ; 
 And, till so much blood thither come again, 
 
 Have I not reason to look pale and dead ? 
 All souls that will be safe, fly from my side ; 
 For time hath set a blot upon my pride. 
 
 tiuin. Comfort, my liege ; remember who you 
 are. 
 
 K. Rich. I had forcrot myself: Am I not king? 
 Awake, thou slugsrard majesty ! thou sleep'st. 
 Is not the king's name forty thousand names ? 
 Arm, arm, my name ! a puny subject strikes 
 At thy great glory. Look not to the ground, 
 Ye favourites of a king ; Are we not hir 1 !! ? 
 High be our thoughts : I know, my uncle York 
 Hath power enough to serve our turn. But who 
 Comes here ? 
 
 liter Scroop. 
 
 Scroop. More health and happiness betide my 
 
 liege, 
 Than can my care-tun'd tongue de-liver him. 
 
 K. Rich. Mine ear is open, and my heart pre- 
 
 par'd ; 
 
 The worst is worldly loss, thou canst unfold. 
 Say, is my kingdom lost / why, 'twas my care ; 
 And what Ips* is it, to be rid of care ? 
 Strives Bolingbroke to be as great as we ? 
 Greater he shall not be ; if he serve God, 
 We'll serve him too, and be his fellow so : 
 Revolt our subjects ? that we cannot mend ; 
 They break their faith to God, as well as us : 
 Cry, wo, destruction, ruin, loss, decay ; 
 
 (M Force. 
 
 The worst is death, and death will have his day. 
 Scroop. Glad am I, thatyour highness is so arm'd, 
 To bear the tidings of calamity. 
 Lijce an unseasonable stormy day, 
 Which makes the silver rivers drown their shores, 
 As if the world were all dissolv'd to tears ; 
 So high above his limits swells the raee 
 Of Bolingbroke, covering your fearful land 
 With hard bright steel, and hearts harder than 
 
 steel. 
 White-beards have arm'd their thin and hairless 
 
 scalps 
 
 Against thy maiesty ; boys, with women's voices, 
 Strive to speak big, and clap their female joints 
 In stiff unwieldy arms against thv crown : 
 Thy very beadsmen learn to bend their bows 
 Of -double-fatal yew against thy state ; 
 Yea, distaff-women manage rusty bills 
 Against thy seat: both young and old rebel, 
 And all goes worse than I have power to tell. 
 K. Rich. Too weU, too well, thou tell'st a tale 
 
 so ill. 
 
 Where is the earl of Wiltshire ? where is Bagot? 
 \Vnat is become of Bushy ? where is Green? 
 That they have let the dangerous enemy 
 Measure our confines with such peaceful steps ? 
 If we prevail, their heads shall pay for it. 
 I warrant, they have made peace with Bolingbroke. 
 Scroop. Peace have they made with him, in- 
 deed, my lord. 
 
 K. Rich. O villains, vipers, damn'd without re- 
 demption ! 
 
 Dogs, easily won to fawn on any man ! 
 Snakes, in my heart-blood warm'd, that sting my 
 
 heart ! 
 
 Three Judases, each one thrice worse than Judas ! 
 Would they make peace ? terrible hell make war 
 Upon their spotted souls for this offence ! 
 
 Scroop. Sweet love, I see, changing his property 
 Turns to the sourest and most deadly hate : 
 Again uncurse their souls ; their peace is made 
 With heads, and not with hands: those- whom you 
 
 curse, 
 
 Have felt the worst of death's destroying wound, 
 And He full low, grav'd in the hollow'ground. 
 .3t. Is, Bushy, Green, and the earl of Wilt- 
 shire, dead ? 
 Scroop,. Yea, all of them at Bristol lost their 
 
 heads, 
 flnjii. Where is the duke, iny father, with his 
 
 power ? 
 K. Rich. No matter where ; of comfort no man 
 
 speak : 
 
 Let's talk of graves, of worms, and epitaphs ; 
 Make dust, our paper, and with rainy eyes 
 Write sorrow on the bosom of the earth. 
 Let's choose executors, nntl talk of wills : 
 And yet not so, for what can we bequeath, 
 Save our deposed bodies to the ground? 
 Our lands, our lives, and all, are Bolingbroke's, 
 And nothing can we call our own, but death ; 
 And that small model of the barren earth, 
 Which serves as paste and cover to our bones. 
 For henven's sake, let us sit upon the ground, 
 And tell sad stories of the death of kings : 
 How some have been depos'd, some slain in war; 
 Some haunted by the ghosts they have depos'd : 
 Some poison'd bv their wives, some sleeping kill'd ; 
 All murder'd : For within the hollow crown, 
 That rounds the mortal temples of a king, 
 Keen:; death his court : and there the antic sits, 
 Scoffing his state, and grinning at his pomp ; 
 Allowing him a breath, a little scene 
 To monarchize, be fear'd. and kill with looks ;
 
 374 
 
 KING RICHARD II. 
 
 Jet 111, 
 
 Infusing him with self and vain conceit 
 As if this flesh, which walls about our life, 
 Were brass impregnable ; and, humour'd thus, 
 Conies at the last, and with a little pin 
 Bores through his castle wall, and farewell king! 
 Cover your heads, and mock not flesh and blood 
 With solemn reverence ; throw away respect, 
 Tradition, form, and ceremonious duty, 
 For you have but mistook me all this while : 
 I live with bread like you, feel want, taste grief, 
 Need friends : Subjected thus, 
 How can you say to me I am a king? 
 
 Car. My lord, wise men ne'er wail their present 
 
 woes, 
 
 But presently prevent the ways to wail. 
 To fear the foe, since fear oppresseth strength, 
 Gives, in your weakness, strength unto your foe, 
 And so your follies fight against yourself. 
 Fear, and be slain ; no worse can come, to fight: 
 And fight and die, is death destroying death ; 
 Where fearing dying, pays death servile breath. 
 
 *1um. My father hath a power, inquire of him ; 
 And learn to make a body of a limb. 
 
 K. Rich. Thou chid'st me well : Proud Bo- 
 lingbroke, I come 
 
 To change blows with thee for our day of doom. 
 This ague-fit of fear is over- blown ; 
 
 An easy task it is, to win our own. 
 
 Say, Scroop, where lies our uncle with his power? 
 Speak sweetly, man, although thy looks be sour. 
 
 Scroop. Men judge by the complexion of the sky 
 The state and inclination of the day : 
 
 So may you by my dull and heavy eye, 
 
 My tongue hath but a heavier tale to say. 
 I play the torturer, by small and small, 
 To lengthen out the worst that must be spoken : 
 Your uncle York hath join'd with Bolingbroke ; 
 And all your northern castles yielded up, 
 And all your southern gentlemen in arms 
 Upon his party. 1 
 
 K. Rich. Thou hast said enough. 
 
 Beshrew 2 thee, cousin, which didst lead me forth 
 
 [To Aumerle. 
 
 Of that sweet way I was in to despair ! 
 What say you now? What comfort have we now? 
 By heaven, I'll hate him everlastingly, 
 That bids me be of comfort any more. 
 Go, to Flint castle ; there I'll pine away ; 
 A king, wo's slave, shall kingly wo obey. 
 That power 3 1 have, discharge ; and let them go 
 To ear 4 the land that hath some hope to grow, 
 For I have none : Let no man speak again 
 To alter this, for counsel is but vain. 
 
 Jtum. My liege, one word. 
 
 K. Rich. He does me double wrong, 
 
 That wounds me with the flatteries of his tongue. 
 Discharge my followers, let them hence : Away, 
 From Richard's night, to Bolingbroke's fair day. 
 
 , [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE III. Wales. Before Flint Castle. En- 
 ter, with drum and colours, Bolingbroke an<~ 
 forces ; York, Northumberland, and others. 
 
 Baling. So that by this intelligence we learn, 
 The Welshmen are dispers'd ; and Salisbury 
 Is gone to meet the king, who lately landed," 
 With some few private friends, upon this coast. 
 
 North. The news is very fair and pood, my lord ; 
 Richard, not far from hence, hath hid his head. 
 
 York. It would beseem the lord Northumberland, 
 To say king Richard : Alack the heavy day, 
 When such a sacred king should hide his head ! 
 
 North. Your grace mistakes me ; only to be brief,* 
 Left I his title put. 
 
 York. The time hath been, 
 
 Would you have been so brief with him, he would 
 Have been so brief with you, to shorten you, 
 For taking so the head, 6 your whole head's length. 
 
 Boling.~ Mistake not, uncle, further than you 
 should. 
 
 York. Take not, good cousin, further than you 
 
 should, 
 Lest you mis-take : The heavens are o'er your head. 
 
 Holing. I know it, f.ncle ; and oppose'not 
 Myself against their will. But who conies here? 
 
 Enttr Percy. 
 Well, Harry ; what, will not this castle yield ? 
 
 Percy. The castle royally is inann'd, my lord, 
 Against thy entrance. 
 
 Baling. Royally ! 
 Why, it contains no king? 
 
 Percy. Yes, my good lord, 
 
 It doth contain a king ; king Richard lies 
 Within the limits of yon lime and stone : 
 Andtfvith him arc the lord Aumerle, lord Salisbury, 
 Sir Stephen Scroop ; besides a clergyman 
 Of holy reverence, who, I cannot learn. 
 
 North. Belike, it is the bishop of Carlisle. 
 
 Baling. Noble : lord, [To North. 
 
 Go to the rude ribs of that ancient castle ; 
 Through brazen trumpet send the breath of parle 1 
 Into his ruiird ears, and thus deliver: 
 Harry Bolingbroke 
 
 On both his knees doth kiss king Richard's hand ; 
 And sends allegiance, and true faith of heart, 
 To his most royal person : hither come 
 Even at his feet to lay my arms and power ; 
 Provided that, my banishment rcpeal'd, 
 And lands restor'd arrain, be freely granted : 
 If not, I'll use the advantage of my power, 
 And lay the summer's dust with showers of blood, 
 Rain'd from the wounds of slaughter'd Englishmen : 
 The which, how far offfrom the mind of Bolingbroke 
 It is, such crimson tempest should bedrench 
 The fresh green lap of fair king Richard's land, 
 My stooping duty tenderly shall show. 
 Go, signify as much ; while here we march 
 Upon the grassy carpet of this plain. 
 
 [Northumberland advances to the castle, 
 
 li'ith a trumpet. 
 Let's march without the noise of threatening drum, 
 That from the castle's totter'd battlements 
 Our fair appointments may be well perus'd. 
 Methink?, king Richard and myself should meet 
 With no less terror than the elements 
 Of fire and water, when their thundering shock 
 At meeting tears the cloudy cheeks of heaven. 
 Be he the fire, I'll be the yielding water : 
 The rage be his, while on the earth I rain 
 My waters ; on the earth, and not on him. 
 March on, and mark king Richard how he looks. 
 
 (DParU (2) 111 betide. (3) Force. (4) Plow. (5) Short. (6) Such liberty. (7) Parley. 
 
 d Jl parle sounded, and unsicered by another trum- 
 pet within. Flourish. Enter on the walls king 
 Richnrd, the bishop of Carlisle, Aumerle, Scroop, 
 and Salisbury. 
 
 York. See, see, king Richard doth himself appear, 
 As doth the blushing discontented sun 
 From out the fiery portal of the east; 
 When he perceives the envious clouds are bent 
 To dim his glory, and to stain the track 
 Of his bright passage to the Occident. 
 Yet looks he like a king ; behold, his eye,
 
 Scent 111. 
 
 KING RICHARD II. 
 
 375 
 
 As bright as is the eagle's, lightens forth 
 Controlling majesty ; Alack, alack, for wo. 
 That any harm should stain so lair a show ! 
 K. Rich. We are amaz'd ; and thus long have 
 
 we stood 
 To watch the fearful bendins: of thy knee, 
 
 [To Northumberland. 
 
 Because we thought ourself thy lawful king : 
 And if we be, how dare thy joints forget 
 To pay their awful duty to our presence ? 
 If we be not, show us the hand of God 
 That hath dismiss'd us from our stewardship ; 
 For well we know, no hand of blood and bone 
 Can gripe the sacred handle of our sceptre, 
 Unless he do profane, steal, or usurp. 
 And though you think, that all, as you have done, 
 Have lorn th'eir souls, by turning them from us, 
 
 And we are barren, and bereft of friends ; 
 
 Yet know, my master, God omnipotent, 
 Is must'ring in his clouds, on our behalf, 
 Armies of pestilence ; and they shall strike 
 Your children yet unborn, and unbegot, 
 That, lift your vassal hands against my head, 
 And threat the glorv of my precious crown. 
 Tell Bolingbroke (for yond', methinks, he is,) 
 That every stride he makes upon my land, 
 Is dangerous treason : He is come to ope 
 The purple testament of bleeding war ; 
 But ere the crown he looks for live in peace, 
 Ten thousand bloody crowns of mother's sons 
 Shall ill become the'flower of England's face ;' 
 Change the. complexion of her maid-pale peace 
 To scarlet indignation, and bedew 
 Her pastures' grass with faithful English blood. 
 North. The king of heaven forbid, our lord the 
 
 king 
 
 Should so with civil nnd uncivil arms 
 Be rush'd upon ! Thy thrice-noble cousin, 
 Harry Bolingbroke, doth humbly kiss thy hand ; 
 And by the honourable tomb he swears, 
 That stands upon thy royal gnimlsire's bones ; 
 And by the royalties of both your bloods, 
 Currents that spring from one most gracious 
 
 head ; 
 
 And by the buried hand of warlike Gaunt; 
 And by the worth and honour of himself, 
 Comprising all that may be sworn, or said, 
 His coming hither hath no further scope, 
 Than for his lineal royalties, and to beg 
 Enfranchisement immediate on his knees : 
 W T hich on thy royal party granted once, 
 His glittering arms he will commend- to rust, 
 His barbed steeds to stables, and his heart 
 To faithful service of your majesty. 
 This swears he, as he is a prince, is just ; 
 And, as I am a gentleman, I credit him. 
 K. Rich. Northumberland, say, thus the king 
 
 returns ; 
 
 His noble cousin is right welcome hither ; 
 And all the number of his fair demands 
 Shall be accomplished without contradiction : 
 With all the gracious utterance thou hast, 
 Speak to his gentle hearing kind commends. 
 We do debase ourself, cousin, do we not, 
 
 K. Rich. God! O God! that e'er this tongue 
 
 of mine, 
 
 That laid the sentence of dread banishment 
 On yon proud man, should take it off again 
 With words of sooth ! 3 O, that I were as great 
 As is my grief, or lesser than my name ! 
 Or that I could forget what I have been ! 
 
 Or not remember what I must be now ! 
 
 Swell'st thou, proud heart? I'll give thee scope to 
 
 beat, 
 
 Since foes have scope to beat both thee and me. 
 I'lum. Northumberland comes back from Boling- 
 broke. 
 K. Rich. What must the king do now? Must he 
 
 submit ? 
 
 The Icing shall do it. Must he be depos'd ? 
 The king shall be contented : Must he lose 
 The name of king ? o'God's name, let it go : 
 I'll give my jewels, for a set of beads ; 
 My gorgeous palace, for a hermitage ; 
 My gay apparel, for an alms-man's gown ; 
 My tigur'd goblets, for a dish of wood ; 
 My sceptre, for a palmer's walking-staff; 
 My subjects, for a pair of carved saints ; 
 Vnd my large kingdom for a little grave, 
 A little little grave, an obscure grave : 
 Or I'll be buried in the king's highway, 
 Some way of common trade, where subjects' feet 
 May hourly trample on their sovereign's head : 
 For on my heart they tread, now whilst I live ; 
 
 And, buried once, why not upon my head ? 
 
 Aumerle, thou wecp'st ; My ender-hearted cou 
 
 sin ! 
 
 We'll make foul weather with despised tears ; 
 Our sighs, and they, shall lodge the summer corn, 
 And make a dearth in this revolting land. 
 Or shall we play the wantons with our woes, 
 And make some pretty match with shedding tears ; 
 As thus : To drop them still upon one place, 
 Till they have fretted us a pair of graves 
 Within the earth; arid, therein laid, There lies 
 Tico -kinsmen, digg'd their graves with weeping 
 
 flies ? 
 
 Would not this ill do well ? Well, well, I see 
 I talk but idly, and you mock at me. 
 Most mighty prince, my lord Northumberland, 
 What says king Bolingbroke ? will his majesty 
 Give Richard leave to live till Richard die? 
 You make a leg,* and Bolingbroke says ay. 
 
 North. My lord, in the base' court he doth attend 
 To speak with you ; may't please you to come 
 
 down ? 
 K. Rich. Down, down, I come ; like glistering 
 
 Phaeton, 
 Wanting the manage of unruly jades. 
 
 [North, retires to Bolirii:. 
 In the base court ? Base court, where kings grow 
 
 base, 
 
 To come at traitors' call, and do them grace, 
 hi the base court ? Come down ? Down, court ! 
 
 down, king ! 
 For night-owls shriek, where mount in? larks should 
 
 sing. [Exeunt from abate. 
 
 Hoiim;. W'hat says his majesty ? 
 Xort h. Sorrow'uiul grief of heart 
 
 [TV Aumerle North. borrow ami jjnel ot I 
 
 To look so poorly, and to speak PO fair ? " M akes him speak fondly, 6 like a frantic man : 
 
 f Shall we call back Northumberland, and send * ct he ls come - 
 Defiance to the traitor, and so die ? 
 lum. No, good my lord ; let's fight witn gentle 
 
 words, Baling. Stand all apart, 
 
 Till time lend friends, and friends their helpful i And show fair duty to his majesty. 
 swords. 
 
 ; E ter King Richard, and his attendants, below. 
 
 My gracious lord, 
 
 [Kneeling. 
 
 (1) Soil. (2) Commit. (3) Softness. ) (-l)Abow. (5) Lower. (6) Foolishly.
 
 376 
 
 KING RICHARD II. 
 
 Jet 111, 
 
 K. Rich. Fair cousin, you debase your princely 
 
 knee. 
 
 To make the base earth proud with kissing it : 
 Me rather had, my heart might feel your love, 
 Than my unpleas'd eye see your courtesy. 
 Up, cousin, up ; your heart is up, I know, 
 Thus high at least, [Touching his own head.] al- 
 though your knee be low. 
 Baling. My gracious lord, 1 come but for mine 
 
 own. 
 K. Rich. Your own is yours, and I am yours, 
 
 and all. 
 
 Baling. So far be mine, my most redoubted lord, 
 As my true service shall deserve your love. 
 K. .RtcA.,Well you deserve : They well deserve 
 
 to have, 
 
 That know the strong'st and surest way to get. 
 Uncle, give me your nand : nay, dry your eyes ; 
 Tears show their love, but want their remedies. 
 Cousin, I am too young to be your father, 
 Though you are old enough to be my heir, 
 What you will have, I'll give, and willing too ; 
 For do we must, what force will have us do. 
 Set on towards London : Cousin, is it so ? 
 Baling. Yea, my good lord. 
 K. Rich. Then I must not say, no. 
 
 [flourish. Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE IV. Langley. The Duke of York's 
 Garden. Enter the Queen, and two Ladies. 
 
 Queen. What sport shall we devise herain this 
 
 garden, 
 To drive away the heavy thought of care ? 
 
 1 Lady. Madam, we'll play at bowls. 
 
 Queen. 'Twill make me think 
 
 The world is full of rubs, and that my fortune 
 Runs 'gainst the bias. l 
 
 1 Lady. Madam, we will dance. 
 
 Queen. My legs can keep no measure in delight, 
 When my poor heart no measure keeps in grief: 
 Therefore, no dancing, girl ; some*other sport. 
 
 1 Lady. Madam, we'll tell tales. 
 
 Queen. Of sorrow, or of joy ? 
 
 1 Lady. Of either, madam. 
 
 Queen. Of neither, girl : 
 
 For if of joy, being altogether wanting, 
 It doth remember me the more of sorrow ; 
 Or if of grief, being altogether had, 
 It adds more sorrow to my want of joy : 
 For what I have, I need not to repeat ; 
 And what I want, it boots 2 not to complain. 
 
 1 Lady. Madam, I'll sing. 
 
 Queen. 'Tis well, that thou hast cause ; 
 
 But thou should'st please me better, would'st thou 
 weep. 
 
 1 Lady. I could weep, madam, would it do you 
 good. 
 
 Queen. And I could weep, would weeping do me 
 
 good, 
 
 And never borrow any tear of thee. 
 But stay, here come the gardeners : 
 Let's step into the shadow of these trees. 
 
 Enter a Gardener, and two Servants. 
 My wretchedness unto a row of pins, 
 They'll talk of state ; for every one doth so 
 Against a change : Wo is forerun with wo. 
 
 [Queen and Ladies retire. 
 
 Gard. Go, bind thou up yon dangling apricocks, 
 Which, like unruly children, make their sire 
 Stoop with oppression of their prodigal weight : 
 
 (1) A weight fixed on one side of the bowl, which 
 turns it from the straight line. 
 
 Give some supportance to the bending twigs. 
 Go thou, and, like an executioner, 
 Cut off the heads of too-fast-growing sprays, 
 That look too lofty in our commonwealth : 
 
 All must be even in our government. 
 
 You thus employ'd, I wifl go root away 
 The noisome weeds, that without profit suck 
 The soil's fertility from wholesome flowers. 
 
 1 Sen). Why should we, in the compass of a pale,* 
 Keep law, and form, and due proportion. 
 Showing, as in a model, our firm estate i 
 When our sea-walled garden, the whole land, 
 Is full of weeds ; her fairest flowers chok'd up. 
 Her fruit-trees all unprun'd, her hedges ruin'd, 
 Her knots* disorder'd, and her wholesome herbs 
 Swarming with caterpillars ? 
 
 Gard. Hold thy peace : 
 
 He that hath suffer'd this disorder'd spring, 
 Hath now himself met with the fall of leaf: 
 The weeds, that his broad-spreading leaves did 
 
 shelter, 
 
 That seem'd in eating him to hold him up, 
 Are pluck'd up, root and all, by Bolingbroke, 
 I mean, the earl of Wiltshire, Bushy, Green. 
 
 1 Sen). What, are they dead ? 
 
 Gard. They are ; and Bolingbroke 
 
 Hath seiz'd the wasteful king. Oh! What pity 
 
 is it, 
 
 That he had not so trimm'd and dress'd his land, 
 As we this garden ! We, at time of year, 
 Do wound the bark, the skin of our fruit-trees ; 
 Lest, being over-proud with sap and blood, 
 With too much riches it confound itself: 
 Had he done so to great and growing men, 
 They might have liv'd to bear, and he to taste, 
 Their fruits of duty. All superfluous branches 
 We lop away, that bearing boughs may live : 
 Had he done so, himself nad borne the crown, 
 Which waste of idle hours hath quite thrown down. 
 
 1 Sen;. What, think you then, the king shall be 
 depos'd ? 
 
 Gard. Depress'd he is already ; and depos'd, 
 'Tis doubt, 5 he will be : Letters came last night 
 To a dear friend of the good duke of York's, 
 That tell black tidings. 
 
 Queen. O, I am press'd to death, 
 
 Through want of speaking ! Thou, old Adam's 
 likeness, [Coming from her concealment. 
 Set to dress the garden, how dares 
 Thy harsh-rude tongue sound this unpleasing news ? 
 What Eve, %vhat serpent hath suggested thee 
 To make a second fall of cursed man ? 
 Why dost thou say, king Richard is depos'd ? 
 Dar'st thou, thou "little better thing than earth, 
 Divine his downfall ? Say, where, when, and how, 
 Cam'st thou by these ill tidings ? speak, thou wretch. 
 
 Gard. Pardon me, madam : little joy have I, 
 To breathe this news ; yet, what I say, is true. 
 King Richard, he is in the mighty hold 
 Of Bolingbroke ; their fortunes both are weigh'd : 
 In your lord's scale is nothing but himself, 
 And some few vanities that make him light ; 
 But in the balance of great Bolingbroke, 
 Besides himself, are all the English peers, 
 And with that odds he weighs king Richard down. 
 Post you to London, and you'll find it so ; 
 I speak no more than every one doth know. 
 
 Queen. Nimble mischance, that art so light of 
 
 foot, 
 
 Doth not thy embassage belong to me, 
 And am I last that knows it ? 0, thou think'st 
 
 (2) Profits. (3) Inclosure. 
 
 (4) Figures planted in a box. (5) No doubt
 
 Scne 1. 
 
 KING RICHARD II. 
 
 377 
 
 To serve me last, that I may longest keep 
 
 Thy sorrow in my breast. Come, ladies, go, 
 
 To meet at London London's king in wo. 
 
 What, was I born to this ! that my sad look 
 
 Should grace the triumph of great Bolingbroke ? 
 
 Gardener, for telling me this news of wo, 
 
 I would, the plants thou graft's!, may never grow. 
 
 [Exeunt Queen and Ladies. 
 
 Gard. Poor queen! so that thy state might be 
 
 no worse, 
 
 I would, my skill were subject to thy curse. 
 Here did she drop a tear ; here, in this place, 
 I'll set a bank of rue, sour herb of grace; 
 Rue, even for ruth, 1 here shortly shall be seen, 
 In the remembrance of a weeping queen. [Ere. 
 
 ACT IV. 
 
 SCEwVE /.London. Westminster Hall. The 
 lords spiritual on the right side oftlie throne ; ike 
 lords temporal on the left; the commons below. 
 
 Enter Bolingbroke, Aumerle, Surrey, Northum- 
 berland, Percy, Fitzwater, another lord, Bishop 
 
 Fitz. Now, by my soul, I would it were this hour. 
 
 .iuw. Fitzwater, thou art damn'd to hell for 
 this. 
 
 Percy. Aumerle, thou liest : his honour is as true, 
 In this appeal, as thou art all unjust : 
 And, that thou art so, there I throw my gage, 
 To prove it on thee, to the extremest point 
 Of mortal breathing ; seize it, if thou dar'st 
 
 And if I do not, may my hands rot off, 
 And never brandish more revengeful steel 
 Over the glittering helmet of my foe ! 
 Lord. I take the earth to the like, forsworn 
 
 Aumerle ; 
 
 And spur thee on with full as many lies 
 As may be holla'd in thy treacherous ear 
 From sun to sun : there is my honour's pawn ; 
 Engage it to the trial, if thou dar'st 
 .lum. Who sets me else? by hear 
 
 atajl: 
 
 heaven, I'll throw 
 
 I have a thousand spirits in one breast, 
 To answer twenty thousand such as you. 
 
 Surrey. My lord Fitzwater, I do remember well 
 The very time Aumerle and you did talk. 
 
 Officers behind, with Bagot. 
 
 Baling. Call forth Bagot : 
 
 Now, Bagot, freely speak thv mind ; 
 
 What thou dost know of noble Gloster's death; 
 
 Who wrought it with the king, 
 The blood v" office of his timele 
 
 , and who perform'd 
 
 end. 
 
 Ba^ot. Then set before mv face the lord Aumerle. 
 
 Fitz. My lord, 'tis true : you were in presence 
 o/Carlisle,.i&^o/ Westminster, andatiendanti. And you J" \,-[< ness with me5 this is true . 
 
 v. As false, by heaven, as heaven itself is 
 true. 
 
 Surrey, thou liest. 
 Surrey. 
 
 Dishonourable boy ! 
 That lie shall lie so heavy on my sword, 
 That it shall render venseance and revenge, 
 Till thou the lie-giver, aiid that lie, do lie 
 
 Bofin g. Cousin, stand forth, and look upon that In earth as f l uiet as &J father's scull. 
 
 man- In proof whereof, there is my honour's 
 
 Bagot. My lord Aumerle, I know vour daring i En age it to the trial, if thou dar'st. 
 
 tongue * ltz - " ow fondlv dost thou spur a forward horse ! 
 
 's pawn ; 
 
 Scorns to unsay what once it hath deliver'd. 
 In that dead time when Gloster's death was plotted, 
 I heard you say, 7s not my arm of length, 
 That reachethfrom tiie restful English court 
 .3s far as Calais, to my uncle's head ? 
 Amongst much other talk, that very time, 
 I heard you say, that you had rather refuse 
 The offer of a hundred thousand crowns, 
 Than Bolingbroke's return to England : 
 Adding withal, how blest this land would be, 
 In this your cousin's death. 
 
 .2itm. Princes, and noble lords, 
 
 What answer shall I make to this ba^e man ? 
 Shall I so much dishonour my fair stars, 
 On equal terms to give him chastisement ? 
 Either I must, or have mine honour spil'd 
 
 With the attainder of his sland'rous lips. 
 
 There is my gage, the manual seal of death, 
 That marks thee oat for hell : I say, thou liest, 
 And will maintain, what thou hast said, is false, 
 In thy heart-blood, though being all too bass 
 To stain the temper of my knightly sword. 
 
 Boling. Bagot, forbearj thou sha'lt not take it up. 
 . Excepting one, I would he were the best 
 
 If I dare eat, or dnnk, or breathe, or live, 
 I dare meet Surrey in a wilderness, 
 And spit upon liini, whilst I say, he lies, 
 And hee, and lies : there is my bond of faith, 
 To tie thee to my strong correction. 
 As I intend to thrive in this new world, 
 Aumerle is guilty of my true appeal : 
 Besides, I heard the banish'd Norfolk say, 
 That thou, Aumerle, didst send two of thy men 
 To execute the noble duke at Calais. 
 .?(<:. Some honest Christian trust me with a 
 
 In all this presence, that hath mov'd me so. 
 
 Fit:. If that thv valour stand on sympathies, 
 There is my gase, Aiimerle, in rage to thine : 
 
 By that fair sun'that shows me where thou stand's!, ? W to lhat P leasan ;. country's 
 vauntiiwlv thou spak'st it, And his P ure so l unt h s ca P tain 
 
 That Norfolk lies : here do I throw down this, 
 If he may be repeal'd to try his honour. 
 Boling. These differences shall all rest under 
 
 Till NoriblK be repeal'd : repealed he shall be, 
 And, thqutrh mine enemy, restor'd again 
 To all his land and signbries ; when he's return'd, 
 Against Aumerle we will enforce his trial. 
 
 Car. That honourable day shall ne'er be seen. 
 Manv a time hath banish'd "Norfolk fought 
 For Jesu Christ ; in ttlorious Christian field 
 Streaming the ensign of the Christian cross, 
 
 I heard thee sav, and 
 
 T^ acf >,P a?an f ' T , urks ' ftnd - ??-, 
 nd ' '9' 1 d with works of war, retir d himself 
 To Italv ; and there, at \ emce gave 
 
 earth 
 
 Ch " st 
 
 J 
 
 That thou wert cause of noble Gloster's death. 
 If thou deny'st it, twenty times thou liest; 
 And I will turn thy falsehood to thy heart, 
 Where it was forged, with my rapier's point. 
 ,#UTO. Thou dar'st not, coward, live to see that 
 
 (1) Pity. (2) Untimely. 
 
 nder whose colours he had fought so long. 
 Boling. Why, bishop, is Norfolk dead ? 
 Car. As sure as I live, my lord. 
 Boling. Sweet peace conduct his sweet soul to 
 
 the bosom 
 
 Of good old Abraham ! Lords appellants. 
 Your differences shall all rest under gage, 
 Till we assign you to your days of trial. 
 S B
 
 378 
 
 KING RICHARD II, 
 
 Act IV. 
 
 Enter York attended. 
 
 York. Great duke of Lancaster, I come to thee 
 From plume-pluck'd Richard ; who with willing 
 
 soul 
 
 Adopts thee heir, and his high sceptre yields 
 To the possession of thy royal hand : 
 Ascend his throne, descending now from him, 
 And long live Henry, of that name the fourth ! 
 
 Baling. In God's name, I'll ascend the regal 
 throne. 
 
 Car. Marry, God forbid ! 
 Worst in this royal presence may I speak, 
 Yet best beseeming me to speak the truth. 
 Would God, that any in this noble presence 
 Were enough noble to be upright judge 
 Of noble Richard ; then true noblcss' would 
 Learn him forbearance from so foul a wrong. 
 What subject can give sentence on his king? 
 And who sits here, that is not Ricliard's subject ? 
 Thieves are not judg'd, but they are by to hear, 
 Although apparent guilt be seen in them : 
 And shall the figure of God's majesty, 
 His captain, steward, deputy elect, 
 Anointed, crown'd, planted many jear.?, 
 Be judg'd by subject and inferior breath, 
 And he himself not present ? O, forbid it, God, 
 That, in a Christian climate, souls refin'd 
 Should show so heinous, black, obscene a deed ! 
 I speak to subjects, and a subject speaks, 
 Slirr'd up by heaven thus boldly for his king. 
 My lord of Hereford here, whom you call lung, 
 Is a foul traitor to proud Hereford's king : 
 And if you crown him, let me prophesy, 
 The blood of English shall manure the ground, 
 And future ages groan for this foul act : 
 Peace shall go sleep with Turks and infidels, 
 And, in this seat of peace, tumultuous wars 
 Shall kin with kin, and kind with kind confound ; 
 Disorder, horror, fear, and mutiny, 
 Shall here inhabit, and this lanibe call'd 
 The field of Golgotha, and dead men's sculls. 
 O, if you rear this house against this house, 
 It will the wofullest division prove, 
 That ever fell upon this cursed earth: 
 Prevent, resist it, let it not be so, 
 Lest child, child's children, cry against you wo ! 
 Well have you argu'd, sir ; and, for your 
 
 He may surrender : so we shall proceed 
 Without suspicion. 
 
 York. 
 
 I will be his conduct.'- [Exit. 
 
 Holing. Lords, you that are here under our ar- 
 rest, 
 
 Procure your sureties for your days of answer : 
 Little are we beholden to your love, [To Carlisle. 
 And little look'd for at your helping hands. 
 Re-enter York, with King Richard, and officers 
 bearing the crown, fyc. 
 
 K. Rich. Alack, why am I sent for to a king, 
 Before I have shook off the regal thoughts 
 Wherewith I reign'd ? I hardly yet have learn'd 
 To insinuate, flatter, bow, and bend my knee : 
 Give sorrow leave a while to tutor me 
 To this submission. Yet I well remember 
 
 (1) Nobleness. 
 (3) Countenances. 
 
 (2) Conductor. 
 (4) Owns. 
 
 The favours' of these men : Were they not mine ? 
 Did they not sometime cry, all hail ! to me ? 
 So Judas did to Christ : but he, in twelve 
 Found truth iu all but one ; I, in twelve thousand, 
 
 none. 
 
 God save the king ! Will no man say, amen ? 
 Am I both priest and clerk? well then, amen. 
 God save the kin; ! although I be not he ; 
 And yet, amen, if heaven do think him me. 
 To do what service am I sent for hither ? 
 
 York. To do that oflice, of thine own good will, 
 
 Which tired majesty did make thee offer, 
 
 The resignation of thy state and crown 
 To Henry Bolingbroke. 
 
 A". Rich. Give me the crown : Here, cousin, 
 
 seize the crown ; 
 
 Here, on this side, my hand ; on that side, thine. 
 Now is this golden crown like a deep well, 
 That jowes* two buckets filling one another ; 
 Tiie emptier ever dancing in the air, 
 The other down, unseen, and full of water : 
 That bucket down, and full of tears, am I, 
 Drinking my griefs, whilst you mount up on high. 
 
 Holing. I thought you had been willing to resign. 
 
 K. Rich. My crown, I am ; but still my griefs 
 
 are mine : 
 
 You may my glories and my state depose, 
 But not my griefs ; still ami I king of those. 
 
 Baling. l j art of your cares you give me with 
 your crown. 
 
 A". Rich. Your cares set up, do not pluck my 
 
 cares down. 
 
 My care is loss of care, by old care done ; 
 Your care is gain of care, by new care won : 
 The cares I give, I have, though given away ; 
 They tend 6 the crown, yet still with me they stay. 
 
 Baling. Are you contented to resign the crown ? 
 
 K. Rich. Ay. no ; no. ay : for I must nothing be ; 
 Therefore, no no, for I resign to thee. 
 Now mark me how I will undo myself: 
 I give this heavy weight from off my head, 
 And this unwieldly sceptre from my hand, 
 The pride of kingly sway from out my heart ; 
 With mine own tears I wa.^h away my balm, 6 
 With mine own hands I give away my crown, 
 With mine own tongue deny my sacred state, 
 With mine own breath release all duteous oaths: 
 All pomp and majesty I do forswear; 
 
 My manors, rents, revenues, I forego ; 
 My acts, decrees, and statutes, I deny : 
 God pardon all oaths, that are broke to me ! 
 God keep all vows unbroke, are made to thee .' 
 
 pains, 
 
 Of capital treason we arrest you here : 
 My lord of Westminster, be it your charge 
 To keep him safely till his day of trial. 
 
 May't please you, "lords*, to grant the commons' suit. Make me, that nothing have, with nothing griev'd ; 
 Baling. Fetch hither Richard, that iu common And thou with all pleas'd.that hast all achiev'd ! 
 
 Long may'st thpu live in Richard's seat to sit, 
 And soon lie Richard in an earthly pit ! 
 God save Icing Henry, unking'd Richard says, 
 
 And send him many years oi sunshine days! 
 What more remains ? 
 
 What more remains .' 
 Worth. 
 
 No more, but that yon read 
 [Offering a paper. 
 
 These accusations, and these grievous crime.-, 
 Committed by your person, and your followers, 
 Against the state and profit of this land ; 
 That, by confessing them, the souls of men 
 May deem that you are worthily depos'd. 
 
 K. Rich. Must I do so ? and must I ravel out 
 My weav'd-up follies? Gentle Northumberland, 
 If thy offences were upon record,_ 
 Would it not shame thee in so fair a troop, 
 To read a lecture of them ? If thou would'st, 
 There should'st thou find one heinous article, 
 
 (5) Attend. 
 
 (6) Oil of consecration.
 
 Scene I. 
 
 KING RICHARD II. 
 
 379 
 
 Containing the deposing of a king, 
 And cracking the strong warrant of an oath, 
 Mark'd with a blot, damn'd in the book of heaven : 
 Nay. all of you, that stand and look upon me, 
 Whilst that my wretchedness doth bait myself, 
 Though some of you, with Pilate, wash your hands, 
 Showing an outward pity ; yet you Pilates 
 Have here deliver'd me to my sour cross, 
 And water cannot wash away your sin. 
 
 Yor//i. My lord, despatch; read o'er these arti- 
 cles. 
 
 A'. Rich. Mine eyes are full of tears, I cannot see : 
 And yet salt water'blinds I hem not so much, 
 But they can see_ a sort 1 of traitors here. 
 Nay, if I turn mine eyes upon myself, 
 I find myself a traitor with the rest : 
 For I have given here my soul's consent, 
 To undeck the pompous body of a king ; 
 Make glory base ; and sovereignty, a slave ; 
 Proud majesty, a subject ; state, a peasant. 
 
 North. My lord, 
 
 K. Rich. No lord of thine, thou haught, 2 insult- 
 in? man, 
 
 Nor no man's lord ; I have no name, no title, 
 No, not that name was given me at the font, 
 But 'tis usurp'd : Alack the heavy day, 
 That I have worn so many winters out, 
 And know not now what name to call myself! 
 O, that I were a mockery king of snow, 
 Standing before the sun of Bolingbroke, 
 To melt myself away in water-drops ! 
 Good king, great king (and yet not greatly 
 
 good,) 
 
 An if my word be sterling yet in England, 
 Let it command a mirror hither straight ; 
 That it may show me what a face I have, 
 Since it is bankrupt of his majesty. 
 
 Baling. Go some of you, and fetch a looking- 
 glass. [Exit fiii attendant. 
 
 Vcrf A. Read o'er this paper, while the glass doth 
 come. 
 
 K. Rich. Fiend! thou torment'st me ere I come 
 to hell. 
 
 Baling. Urge it no more, my lord Northumber- 
 land. 
 
 .Vorf A. The commons will not then be satisfied. 
 
 K. Rich. They shall be satisfied: I'll read 
 
 enough, 
 
 When I do see the very book, indeed, 
 Where all my sins are writ, and that's myself. 
 
 Re-enter attendant, with a glass. 
 Give me that glass, and therein will I read. 
 No deeper wrinkles yet? Hath sorrow struck 
 So many blows upon this face of mine, 
 And made no deeper wounds ? O, flattering glass, 
 Like to my followers in prosperity, 
 Thou dost beguile me ! Was this face the face, 
 That every day under his household roof 
 Did keep ten thousand men ? Was this the face, 
 That, like the sun, did make beholders wink ? 
 Was this the face, that fac'd so many follies, 
 And was at last out-fac'd by 'Bolingbroke '.' 
 A brittle glory shineth in this face : 
 As brittle as the glory is the face ; 
 
 [Dashes the glass against the ground. 
 For there it is, crack'd in a hundred shivers. 
 Mark, silent king, the moral of this sport, 
 How soon mv sorrow hath destroy'd my face. 
 Baling. The shadow of your sorrow hath de- 
 stroy'd 
 
 (1) Pack. (2) Haughty. 
 
 (3) Jugglers, also robbers. 
 
 The shadow of your face, 
 
 K. Rich. Say that again. 
 
 The shadow of my sorrow ? Ha ! let's see : 
 'Tis very true, my grief lies all within ; 
 And these external manners of lament 
 Are merely shadows to the unseen grief, 
 That swells with silence in the tortur'd soul ; 
 There lies the substance : and I thank thee, king, 
 For thy great bounty, that not only giv'st 
 Me cause to wail, but teachest me the way 
 How to lament the cause. I'll beg one boon, 
 And then be gone, and trouble you no more. 
 Shall I obtain it ? 
 
 Baling. Name it, fair cousin. 
 
 K.Rich. Fair cousin ! Why, I am greater than 
 
 a king : 
 
 Por, when I was a king, my flatterers 
 Were then but subjects ; being now a subject, 
 I have a king here to my flatterer. 
 Being so great, I have no need to beg. 
 
 Boling. Vet ask. 
 
 K.Rich. And shall I have? 
 
 Boling. You shall. 
 
 K. Rick. Then give me leave to go. 
 
 Boling. Whither ? 
 
 K. Rich. Whither you will, so I were from your 
 
 Soling. Go, some of you, convey him to the 
 
 Tower. 
 K. Rich. O, good! Convey? Conveyers 3 are 
 
 you all, 
 That rise thus nimblv by a true king's fall. 
 
 [Exeunt K. Rich, some lords, and a guard. 
 Boling. On Wednesday next, we solemnly set 
 
 down 
 Our coronation : lords, prepare yourselves. 
 
 [Exeunt all but the Abbot, "Bishop o/Carlisle, 
 
 and Aumerle. 
 
 . A woful pageant have we here beheld. 
 Car. The wo's to come ; the children yet un- 
 
 born 
 
 Shall feel this day as sharp to them as thorn. 
 *lum. You holy clergymen, is there no plot 
 To rid the realm of this pernicious blot ? 
 
 *2bbot. Before I freely speak my mind herein, 
 You shall not only take the sacrament 
 To bury 4 mine intents, but to efiect 
 Whatever I shall happen- to devise: 
 I see your brows are full of discontent, 
 Your hearts of sorrow, and your eyes of tears ; 
 Come home with me to supper ; I will lay 
 A plot, shall show us all a merry day. [Exeunt. 
 
 ACT V. 
 
 S GEM'S /.London. .? street leading to tht 
 Tower. Enter Queen, and Ladies. 
 
 Queen. This way the king will come ; this is the 
 
 way 
 
 To Julius Czesar's ill-erected tower, 5 
 To whose flint bosom my condemned lord . 
 Is doom'd a prisoner by proud Bolingbroke: 
 Here let us rest, if this rebellious earth 
 Have any resting for her true king's queen. 
 
 Enter King Richard, and guards. 
 But soft, but see, or rather do not see, 
 My fair rose wither : Yet look up ; behold ; 
 That you in pity may dissolve to dew, 
 
 (4) Conceal. (5) lower of London.
 
 380 
 
 KING RICHARD II. 
 
 Jcl r. 
 
 And wash him fresh again with true-love tears. 
 Ah, thou, the model where old Troy did stand ; 
 Thou map 1 of honour; thou king Richard's tomb, 
 And not king Richard ; thou most beauteous inn, 
 
 A two-fold marriage ; 'twixt my crown and me ; 
 And then, betwixt me and my married wife. 
 Let me unkiss the oath 'twixt thee and me ; 
 And yet not so, for with a kiss 'twas made. 
 
 Why should hard-fa vour'd grief be lodg'd in thee,IPart us, Northumberland ; I towards the north, 
 When triumph is become an ale-house guest ? Where shivering cold and sickness pines the clime ; 
 K. Rich. Join not with grief, fair woman, do My wife to France; from whence, set forth in pomp, 
 
 not so, 
 
 To make my end too sudden : learn, good soul, 
 To think our former state a happy dream 5 
 From which awak'd, the truth of what we are 
 Shows us but this : I am sworn brother, sweet, 
 To grim necessity, ; and he and I 
 Will keep a league till death. Hie thee to France, 
 And cloister thee in some religious house : 
 Our holy lives must win a new world's crown, 
 Which our profane hours here have stricken down. 
 Queen. What, is my Richard both in shape and 
 
 mind 
 
 Transform'd and weakened ? Hath Bolingbroke 
 Depos'd thine intellect? hath he been in thy heart? 
 The lion, dying, thrusteth forth his paw, 
 And wounds th~e earth, if nothing else, with rage 
 To be o'erpower'd ; and wilt thou, pupil-like, 
 Take thy correction mildly ? kiss the rod ; 
 And fawn on rage with base humility, 
 Which art a lion, and a king of beasts ? 
 K.Rich. A king of beasts, indeed ; if aught but 
 
 beasts, , 
 
 I had been still a happy king of men. 
 Good sometime queen, prepare thee hence for 
 
 France : 
 
 Think, I am dead ; and that even here thou tak'st, 
 As from my death-bed, my last living leave. 
 In winter's tedious nights, sit by the fire 
 With good old folks ; and let tHem tell thee talcs 
 Of woful aces, long ago betid : 2 
 And, ore thou bid good night, to quit 3 their grief, 
 Tell thou the lamentable fall of me, 
 And send the hearers weeping to their beds. 
 For why, the senseless brands will sympathize 
 The heavy accent of thy moving tongue, 
 And, in compassion, weep the fire out: 
 And some will mourn in ashes, some coal-black, 
 For the deposing of a rightful king. 
 
 Enter Northumberland, attended. 
 
 North. My lord, the mind of Bolingbroke is 
 chang'd ; 
 
 You must to Pomfret, not unto the Tower. 
 
 And, madam, there is order ta'en for you ; 
 With all swift speed you must away to France. 
 
 K. Rich. Northumberland, thou ladder where- 
 withal 
 
 The mounting Bplingbroke ascends my throne, 
 The time shall not be many hours of age 
 More than it is, ere foul sin, gathering head, 
 Shall break into corruption : thou shall think, 
 Though he divide the realm, and give thee half, 
 It is too little, helping him to all : 
 And he shall think, that thou, which know'st the way 
 To plant unrightful kings, wilt know again, 
 Being ne'er so little urg'd, another way 
 To pluck him headlong from the usurped throne. 
 The love of wicked friends converts to fear ; 
 That fear, to hate ; and hate turns one, or both, 
 To worthy danger, and deserved death. 
 
 North. My guilt be on my head, and there an end. 
 Take leave, and part; Cor you must part forthwith. 
 
 K. Rich. Doubly divorc'd ? Bad men, ye violate 
 
 I) Picture of greatness. (2) Passed. 
 
 3) Be even with them. 
 
 4) All-hallows, i. e. AlUwiiits, Nov. 1. 
 
 She came adorned hither like sweet May, 
 Sent back like Hallowmas, 4 or short'st of day. 
 Queen. And must we be divided ? must we part? 
 K. Rich. Ay, hand from hand, my love, and 
 
 . heart from heart. 
 
 Queen. Banish us both, and send the king with me. 
 North. That were some love, but little policy. 
 Queen. Then whither he goes, thither let me go. 
 K. Rich. So two, together weeping, make one wo. 
 Weep thou for me in France, I for thee here ; 
 Better far oft", than near, be ne'er the near'.* 
 Go, count thy way with sighs ; I, mine with groans. 
 Quee?i. So longest way shall have the longest 
 
 moans. 
 K. Rich. Twice for one step I'll groan, the way 
 
 being short, 
 
 And piece the way out with a heavy heart. 
 Come, come, in wooing sorrow let's be brief, 
 Since, wedding it, there is such length in grief. 
 One kiss shall stop our mouths, ana dumbly part ; 
 Thus give I mine, and thus I take thy heart. 
 
 [They kiss. 
 Queen. Give me mine own again ; 'twere no good 
 
 part, 
 To lake on me to keep, and kill thy heart. 
 
 [Kiss again. 
 
 So, now I have mine own again, begone, 
 That I may strive to kill it with a groan. 
 A*. Rich. We make wo wanton with this fond 
 
 delay : 
 Once more, adieu ; the rest let sorrow say. [Exe. 
 
 SCENE II. The same. .2 room in the Duke of 
 York's palace. Enter York, and his Duchess. 
 
 Duch. My lord, you told me, you would tell the 
 
 rest, 
 
 When weeping made you break the story oflj 
 Of our two cousins coming into London. 
 
 York. Where did I leave ? 
 
 York. Then, as I said, the duke, great Boling- 
 broke, 
 
 Mounted upon a hot and fiery steed, 
 Which his aspiring rider scem'd to know, 
 With slow, but stately pace, kept on his course, 
 While all tongues cried God save thee, Boling- 
 
 brokc' ! 
 
 You would have thought the very windows spake, 
 So mnny greedy looks of yoimar and old 
 Tbrouen casements darted their desiring eyes 
 Upon his visage ; and that all the walls, 
 With painted imagery, 6 had said at once, 
 Jesu preserve thee ! welcome, Bolingbroke ! 
 Whilst he, from one side to the other turning, 
 Bare-headed, lower than his proud steed's neck, 
 Bcspake them thus, I thank you, countrymen: 
 And thus still doing, thus he pass'd along. 
 
 Duch. Alas, poor Richard ! where rides he the 
 while ? 
 
 York. As, in a theatre, the eyes of men, 
 After a well-grac'd aclor leaves the stage, 
 
 (5) Never the nigher. 
 
 (6) Tapestry hung from the windows
 
 Scene III. 
 
 KING RICHARD II. 
 
 Are idly bent 1 on him that enters next, 
 
 Thinking his prattle to be tedious : 
 
 Even so, or with much more contempt, men's eyes 
 
 Did scowl on Richard ; no man cried, God save bin 
 
 No joyful tongue gave him his welcome home : 
 
 But dust was thrown upon his sacred head ; 
 
 Which, with such gentle sorrow, he shook off, 
 
 His face still combating with tears and smiles, 
 
 The badges of his grief and patience, 
 
 That had not God, for some strong purpose, steel'd 
 
 The hearts of men, they must perforce have melted, 
 
 And barbarism itself have pitied him. 
 
 But heaven hath a hand in these events ; 
 
 To whose high will we bound our calm contents. 
 
 To Bolingbroke are we sworn subjects now, 
 
 Whose state and honour I for aye^ allow. 
 
 Enter Aumerle. 
 
 Duck. Here comes my son Aumerle. 
 
 York. Aumerle that was; 
 
 But that is lost, for being Richard's friend, 
 And, madam, you must call him Rutland now: 
 I am in parliament pledge for his truth, 
 And lasting fealty to the new-made king. 
 
 Ditch. Welcome, my son : Who are the violets 
 
 now, 
 That strew the green lap of the new-come spring ? 
 
 .4i(m. Madam, I know not, nor I greatly care not : 
 God knows, I had as lief be none, as one. 
 
 York. Well, bear you well in this new spring of 
 
 time, 
 
 Lest you be cropp'd before you come to prime. 
 What news from Oxford ? hold those justs 3 and 
 triumphs ? 
 
 Jlum. For ausiit I know, my lord, they do. 
 
 York. You will be there, I know. 
 
 Jlnm. If God prevent it not; I purpose ?o. 
 
 York. What seal is that, that hangs without thy 
 
 hosom 1 
 Yea, look'st thou pale ? let me see the writing. 
 
 .4i<m. My lord, 'tis nothing. 
 
 York. No matter then who sees it : 
 
 I will be satisfied, let me sec: the writing. 
 
 Jlum. I do beseech your grace to pardon me ; 
 It is a matter of small consequence, 
 Which for some reasons I would not have seen. 
 
 York. Which for some reasons, sir, I mean to see. 
 I fear, I fear, 
 
 Duch. W T hat should you fear ? 
 
 'Tis nothing but some bond that he is enter'd into 
 For gay apparel, 'crainst the triumph day. 
 
 York. Bound to himself? what doth he with a bond 
 That he is bound to? Wife, thou art a fool. 
 Boy, let me see the writing. 
 
 J?m. I do beseech you, pardon me ; I may not 
 show it. 
 
 York. I will be satisfied ; let me see it, I say. 
 
 [Snatches it, and reads. 
 Treason ! foul treason ! villain ! traitor ! slave ! 
 
 Ditch. What is the matter, my lord? 
 
 York. Ho ! who is within there ? [Enter a ser- 
 vant.] Saddle my horse. 
 God for his mercy ! what treachery is here ! 
 
 Duch. Why, wiiat is it, my lord ? 
 
 York. Give me my boots, I say; saddle my 
 
 horse: 
 
 Now by mine honour, by my life, my troth, 
 I will appeach the villain. [Exit servant. 
 
 Duch. What's the matter ? 
 
 York. Peace, foolish woman. 
 
 Duch. I will not peace : W r hat is the matter, son ? 
 
 381 
 
 Carelessly turned. 
 Tilts and tournaments. 
 
 (2) Ever. 
 
 Jum. Good mother, be content ; it is no more 
 1 nan my poor life must answer 
 Dtteh - Thy life answer! 
 
 Re-enter servant, with boots. 
 
 York. Bring me my boots, I will unto the king. 
 Duch. Strike him, Aumerle. Poor boy thou 
 
 art amaz'd : 4 
 
 Hence, villain ; never more come in my sight. 
 
 ' 
 
 ,, , e servant. 
 
 1 or/.-. Give me my boots, I say. 
 
 Duch. Why, York, what wilt thou do? 
 U ill thou not hide the trespass of thine own ? 
 Have we more sons ? or are we like to have ? 
 Is not my teeming 6 date drunk up with time ? 
 And wilt thou pluck my fair son from mine ao-e, 
 And rob me of a happy mother's name ? 
 Is he not like Ihee ? Is henot thine own ? 
 
 York. Thou fond mad woman, 
 Wilt thou conceal this dark conspiracy? 
 A dozen of them here have ta'en the sacrament, 
 And interchangeably set down their hands, 
 To kill the kin-- al Oxford. 
 
 He shall be none ; 
 \\ eMl keep him here : Then what is that to him ? 
 
 Itork. Away, 
 Fond woman ! were he twenty times my son, 
 
 I would appcach him. 
 
 Hadst thou groan'd for him, 
 
 Duch. 
 
 As I have done, thou'dst be more pitiful. 
 But now I know thy mind ; thou dost suspect, 
 That I have been disloyal to thy bed, 
 And that he is a bastard, not thy son : 
 Sweet York, sweet husband, be not of that mind : 
 He is as like thee as a man may be, 
 Not like to me, or any of my kin, 
 \nd yet I love him. 
 
 York. Make way, unruly woman. [Exit. 
 
 Duch. After, Aumerle; mount thee upon his 
 
 horse ; 
 
 Spur, post ; and get before him to the king, 
 And beg his pardon ere he do accuse thee. 
 '11 not be long behind ; though I be old, 
 [ doubt not but to ride as fast as York : 
 And never will I rise up from the ground, 
 Till Bolingbroke have nardon'd thee : Away ; 
 Begone. " [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE ///.Windsor. A room in the castle. 
 Enter Bolingbroke as king; Percy, and other 
 
 lords. 
 
 Baling. Can no man tell of my unthrifty son ? 
 Tis full three months, since I did see him last: 
 ;f any plague hang over us, 'tis he. 
 [ would to God, my lords, he might be found : 
 'nquire at London, 'monst the taverns there, 
 ?or there, they say, he daily doth frequent, 
 iVith unrestrained loose companions ; 
 Even such, they say, as stand in narrow lanes, 
 \nd beat our watch, and rob our passengers ; 
 While he, young, wanton, and effeminate boy, 
 Takes on the point of honour, to support 
 So dissolute a crew. 
 
 Percy. My lord, some two days since I aw the 
 
 prince: 
 And told him of these triumphs held at Oxford. 
 
 Baling. And what said the gallant ? 
 
 Percy. His answer was, he would unto the 
 
 stews ; 
 
 And from the common's! creature pluck a glove, 
 And wear it as a favour ; and with that 
 
 (4) Perplexed, confounded. (5) Breeding,
 
 KING RICHARD it 
 
 Jet 
 
 He would unhorse the lustiest challenger. 
 Baling. As dissolute, as desperate : yet, through 
 
 both 
 
 I see some sparkles of a better hope, 
 Which elder days may happily bring forth. 
 But who comes" here? 
 
 Enttr Aumerle, hastily. 
 Jinm. i Where is the king ? 
 
 Baling. What means 
 
 Our cousin, that he stares and looks so wildly ? 
 Awn. God save your grace. I do beseech your 
 
 majesty, 
 
 To have some conference with your grace alone. 
 Boling. Withdraw yourselves, and leave us here 
 
 alone. 
 
 [Exeunt Percy and lords. 
 
 What is the matter with our cousin now ? 
 
 ium. For ever may my knees grow to the earth, 
 
 [Kneels. 
 
 My tongue cleave to my roof within my mouth, 
 Unless a pardon, ere I rise, or speak. 
 
 Baling. Intended, or committed, was this fault? 
 If but the first, how heinous e'er it be, 
 To win thy after-love, I pardon thee. 
 
 wflum. Then give me leave that I may turn the key, 
 That no man enter till my tale be done. 
 
 Boling. Have thy desire. [Aum. locks the door. 
 
 York. [Within.] My liege, beware; look to 
 
 thyself; 
 Thou hast a traitor in thy presence there. 
 
 Boling. Villain, I'll make thee safe. [Drawing 1 . 
 
 Jlum. Stay thy revengeful hand ; 
 Thou hast no cause to fear. 
 
 York. {Within.} Open the door, secure, fool- 
 hardy king : 
 
 Shall I. for love, speak treason to thy face? 
 Open the door, or I will break it open. 
 
 [Bolingbroke opens the door. 
 Enter York. 
 
 Boling. What is the mattep uncle ? spealc ; 
 Recover breath ; tell us how near is danger, 
 That we may arm us to encounter it. 
 
 Duch. [Within.] What ho, my liege ! lor God's 
 
 sake let me in. 
 Boling. What shrill-voic'd suppliant makes this 
 
 eager cry ? 
 Duch. A woman, and thine aunt, great king ; 
 
 'tis I. 
 
 Speak with me, pity me, open the door ; 
 A beggar begs, that never negg'd before. 
 Boling: Our scene is alter'd, from a serious 
 
 thing, 
 
 And now ohang'd to The Beggar and the Kig. 3 
 My dangerous cousin, let your mother in ; 
 I know, she's come to pray for your foul sin. 
 York. If thou do pardon, whosoever pray, 
 More sins, for this forgiveness, prosper may. 
 This fustor'd joint cut oll^ the rest rests sound ; 
 This, let alone, will all tiie rest confound. 
 
 Enter Duchess. 
 
 Duch. 0, king, believe not this hard-hearted 
 
 man ; 
 Love, loving not itself, none other can. 
 
 Yufk. Thou frantic woman, what dost thou 
 
 make 4 here ? 
 
 Shnll thy old dugs once more a traitor rear ? 
 Duch. Sweet York, be patient: Hear me, gen- 
 tle liege. [Knot ts. 
 Boling. Rise up, good aunt. 
 Duch. Not yet, I thee beseech : 
 For ever will I kneel upon my knees, 
 | And never see day that the happy sees, 
 j Till thou give joy ; until thou bid me joy, 
 By pardoning Rutland, my transgressing boy. 
 .2ttm. Unto iny mother's prayers, f bend my 
 knee. [Kneelt. 
 York. Against them both, my true joints behded 
 be. [Kneels. 
 Ill may'st thou thrive, if thou grant any grace ! 
 
 Duch. Pleads he in earnest? look upon his face ; 
 His eyes do drop no tears, his prayers are in jest ; 
 His words come from his mouth, ours from our 
 breast : 
 
 hat we may arm us to encounter it. breast : 
 
 York. Peruse this writing here, and thou shalt|He prays but faintly, and would be denied ; 
 know We pray with heart, and soul, and all beside : 
 
 The treason that my haste forbids me show. 
 
 itun. Remember, as thou read'st, thy promise 
 
 past: 
 
 I do repent me ; read not my name there, 
 My heart is not confederate with my hand. 
 
 York. 'Twas, villain, ere thy hand did set it 
 
 down. 
 
 I tore it from the traitor's bosom, king : 
 Fear, and not love, begets his penitence : 
 Forget to pity him, lest thy pity prove 
 A serpent that will sting thee to the heart. 
 
 Boling. O heinous, strong, and bold conspi- 
 racy ! 
 
 loyal father of a treacherous son ! 
 Thou sheer, 1 immaculate, and silver fountain, 
 From whence this stream through muddy passages, 
 Hath held his current, and defiPd himself! 
 Thy overflow of good converts to bail ; 
 And thy abundant goodness shall excuse 
 This deadly blot in thy digressing 2 son. 
 
 York. So shall my virtue be his vice's bawd ; 
 And he shall spend mine honour with his shame, 
 As thriftless sons their scraping fathers' gold. 
 Mine honour lives when his dishonour dies, 
 Or my sham'd life in his dishonour lies : 
 Thou'kill'st me in his life ; giving him breath, 
 The traitor lives, the true man's put to death. 
 
 Transparent. 
 3) An old ballad, 
 
 (2) Transgressing. 
 (4) Do. ' 
 
 His weary joints would gladly rise, I know ; 
 
 Our knees shall kneel till to the ground they grow : 
 
 His prayers are full of false hypocrisy ; 
 
 Ours, of true zeal and deep integrity. 
 
 Our prayers do out-pray his ; then fet them have 
 
 That, mercy, which true prayers ought to have. 
 
 Boling. Good aunt, stand up. 
 
 Duch. Nay, do not say stand up ; 
 
 But, pardon, first ; and afterwards, stand up. 
 An if I were thy nurse, thy tongue to teach, 
 Pardon should be the first word of thy speech. 
 I .never long'd to hear a word till now ; 
 Say pardon, king ; let pity teach thee how: 
 The word is short, but not so short as sweet ; 
 No word like pardon, for kings' mouths so meet. 
 
 York. Speak it in French, king; say, pardonnis 
 
 WOT/. 5 
 
 Di'di. Dost thou teach pardon pardon to de- 
 stroy ? 
 
 Ah, my sour husband, my hard-hearted lord, 
 That set'st the word itself against the word ! 
 Speak, pardon, as 'tis current in our land ; 
 The chopping French we do not understand. 
 Thine eye begins to speak, set thy tongue there : 
 Or, in thy piteous heart plant thou thine ear ; 
 I That, hearing how our plaints and prayers do pierce^ 
 IPitv may move thee, pardon to rehearse. 
 Baling, Good aunt, stand up. 
 
 (0) Eicuse me.
 
 Scene IV, F. 
 
 KING RICHARD II. 
 
 Duck. I do not sue to stand, 
 
 Pardon is all the suit I have in hand. 
 
 Baling. I pardon him, as God shall" pardon me. 
 
 Duch. happy vantage of a kneeling knee ! 
 Yet am I sick for fear : speak it again ; 
 Twice saying pardon, doth not pardon twain, 
 But makes one pardon strong. 
 
 Baling. With all my heart 
 
 I pardon him. 
 
 Duch. A god on earth thou art. 
 
 Baling. But for our trusty brother-in-law, and 
 
 . the abbot, 
 
 With all the rest of that consorted crew, 
 Destruction straight shall dog them at the heels. 
 Good uncle, help to order several po-.vrrs 1 
 To Oxford, or where'er these traitors are : 
 They shall not live within this wo'rld, I swear, 
 But I will have them, if I once know where. 
 Uncle, farewell, and cousin too, adieu : 
 Your mother well hath pray'd, and prove you true. 
 
 Duch. Come, my old 50117 I pray God make 
 thee new. [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE IV. Enter Exton, and a Servant. 
 Exton. Didst thou not mark the king, what words 
 
 he spake ? 
 
 Hare I no friend will rid me of this living fear ? 
 Was it not so ? 
 
 Sen-. Those were his verv words. 
 
 Exton. Have I no friend '/ quoth he : he spake 
 
 it twice, 
 
 And urg'd it twice together ; did he not ? 
 Sere. He did. 
 Exton. And, speaking it, lie wistfully look'd on 
 
 me ; 
 
 As who should say, I would, thou wert the man 
 That would divorce this terror from my heart ; 
 Meaning, the king at Pomfret. Come, let's go ; 
 I am the king's fricr.d, and will rid his foe. [Eze. 
 
 S CEJiE V. Pomfret. The dungeon of the castle. 
 Enter King Richard. 
 
 K. Rich. I have been studying how I may com- 
 pare 
 
 This prison, where I live, unto the world : 
 And, for because the world is populous, 
 And here is not a creature but myself, 
 I cannot do it ; Yet I'll hammer it out. 
 My brain I'll prove the female to my soul ; 
 My soul, the father : and these two beget 
 A generation of still-breedir.g thoughts, 
 And these same thoughts people this little world ;- 
 In humours, like the people of this world, 
 For no thought is contented. The better sort, 
 As thoughts of things divine, are intermix'd 
 With scruples, and do set the word itself 
 Against the word : 3 
 
 As thus, Come, little ones ; and then again, 
 It is as hard to come, nsjor a camel 
 To thread the postern* of a needle's eye. 
 Thoughts tending to ambition, they do plot 
 Unlikely wonders : how these vain weak nails 
 May tear a passage through the flinty ribs 
 Of this hard world, my ragged prison walls ; 
 And, for they cannot, die in their own pride. 
 Thoughts tending to content, (latter themselves, 
 That they are not the first of fortune's slaves, 
 Nor shall not be the last ; like silly beggars, 
 Who, sitting in the stocks, refuge their shame, 
 
 (1) Forces. (2) His own body. 
 
 (3) Holv scripture. (4) Little gate. (5) Tick. 
 
 (6) Strike for him, like the figure of a man on 
 
 That many have, and others must sit there : 
 
 And in this thought they find a kind of ease, 
 
 Bearing their own misfortune on the back 
 
 Of such as have before endur'd the like. 
 
 Thus play I, in one person, many people, 
 
 And none contented : Sometimes am I king ; 
 
 Then treason makes me wish myself a beggar 
 
 And so I am : Then crushing penury 
 
 Persuades me I was better when a king ; 
 
 Then am I king'd again : and, by-and-b'y, 
 
 Think that I am unking'd by Bolingbroke, 
 
 And straight am nothing : But, whate'er I am, 
 
 Nor I, nor any man, that but. man is, 
 
 With nothing shall be pleas'd, till he be eas'd, 
 
 With being nothing. Music do I hear ? [JUTtuie, 
 
 Ha, ha ! keep time: How sour sweet music is, 
 
 When time is broke, and no proportion kept ! / 
 
 So is it in the music of men's livos. / 
 
 And here have I the daintiness of ear, / 
 
 To check time broke in a disorder'd string ; 
 
 But, for the concord of my state and time, 
 
 Had not an ear 19 hear my true time broke. 
 
 [ wasted time, and now doth time waste me. 
 
 For now hath time made me his numb'ring clock : 
 
 My thoughts are minutes ; and, with sighs, they jar* 
 
 Their watches on to mine eyes, the outward watch, 
 
 Whereto my finger, like a dial's point, 
 
 ts pointing still, in cleansing them from tears. 
 
 Now, sir, the sound, that tells what hour it is, 
 
 Are clamorous groans, that strike upon my heart, 
 
 Which is the bell ; So sighs, and tears, and groans, 
 
 Show minutes, times, and hours : but my time 
 
 Runs posting on in Bolingbroke's proud joy, 
 
 While I stand fooling here, his Jack o'the clock.* 
 
 This music mads me, let it sound no more ; 
 
 For, though it have holp madmen to their wits, 
 
 In me, it seems it will make wise men mad. 
 
 Yet blessing on his heart that gives it me ! 
 
 for 'tis a sign of love ; and love to Richard 
 
 Is a strange brooch' in this all-hating world. 
 
 , Enter Groom. 
 
 Groom. Kail, royal prince ! 
 
 K. Rich. Thanks, noble peer ; 
 
 The cheapest of us is ten groats too dear. 
 What art thou ? and how comest thou hither, 
 Where no man never comes, but that sad dog 
 That brings me food, to make misfortune live ? 
 
 Groom. I was a poor groom of thy stable, king, 
 When thou wert king; who, travelling towards 
 
 York, 
 
 With much ado, at length have gotten leave 
 To look upon my sometimes 8 master's face. 
 O, how it yearn'd my heart, when I beheld, 
 In London streets, that coronation day, 
 When Bolingbroke rode on roan Barbary ! 
 That horse, that thou so often hast bestnd ; 
 That horse, that I so carefully have dress'd ! 
 
 K. Rich. Rode he on Barbary ? Tell me, gentle 
 
 friend, 
 How went he under him ? 
 
 Groom. So proudly, as if he disdain'd the ground. 
 
 A*. Rich. So proud that Bolingbroke was on his 
 
 back ! 
 
 That jade hath eat bread from my royal hand; 
 This hand hath made him proud with clapping 
 
 him. 
 
 Would he not stumble? Would he not fall down 
 (Since pride must have a fall,) and break the neck 
 Of tint proud man that did usurp his back? 
 
 (7) An ornamented buckle, and also a jwel in 
 general. 
 
 (8) Former,
 
 384 
 
 KING RICHARD II. 
 
 Act*. 
 
 Forgiveness, horse !- why do I rail on thee, 
 Since thou, created to be aw'd by man, 
 Wast born to bear ? I was not made a horse ; 
 
 And yet I bear a burden like an ass, 
 Spur-gall'd, and tir'd, by jauncing 1 
 
 Bolingbroke. 
 
 Enter Keeper, with a dish. 
 
 Keep, Fellow, give place ; here is no longer stay. 
 
 [To the Groom. 
 
 K. Rich. If thou love me, 'tis time thou wert 
 
 away. 
 Groom. What my tongue dares not, that my 
 
 heart shall say. 
 
 [Exit. 
 
 Keep. My lord, will't please you to fall to ? 
 
 K. Rich. Taste of it first, as thou art wont to do. 
 
 Keep. My lord, I dare not ; sir Pierce of Exton, 
 
 who 
 
 Lately came from the king, commands the contrary. 
 K. Rich. The devil take Henry of Lancaster and 
 
 thee ! 
 Patience is stale, and I am wearv of it. 
 
 [Beats the Keeper. 
 Keep. Help, help, help ! 
 
 Enter Exton, and servants, armed. 
 K. Rich. How now ? what means death in this 
 
 rude assault ? 
 
 Villain, thy own hand yields thy death's instrument, 
 f Snatching a weapon, and killing one. 
 Go thou, and fill another room in hell. 
 
 [He kills another, then Exton strikes him down. 
 That hand shall burn in never-quenching fire, 
 That staggers thus my person. Exton, thy fierce 
 
 hand 
 Hath with the king's blood stain'd the king's own 
 
 land. 
 
 Mount, mount, my soul ! thy seat is up on high; 
 Whilst my gross f|esh sinks downward, here to die. 
 
 [Dies. 
 
 Exton. As full of valour, as of royal blood : 
 Both have I spilt ; 0, would Jiie deed were good ! 
 For now the devil, that told me I did well, 
 Says, that this deed is chronicled in hell. 
 This dead king to the living king 111 bear; 
 Take hence the rest, and give them burial here. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE VI. Windsor. A room in the castle. 
 
 Flourish. Enter Bolingbrokc, and York, with 
 
 lords and attendants. 
 
 Baling. Kind uncle York, the latest news we hear 
 Is that the rebels have consum'd with fire 
 Our town of Cicester in Glostershire ; 
 But whether they be ta'en, or slain, we hear not. 
 
 Enter Northumberland. 
 Welcome, my lord : What is the news ? 
 
 North. First, to thy sacred state wish I all hap- 
 piness. 
 
 The next news is, I have to London sent 
 The heads of Salisbury, Spencer, Blunt, and Kent : 
 The manner of their taking may appear 
 At large discoursed in this paper here. 
 
 [Presenting a paper. 
 
 (1) Jaunting. (2) Immediately. 
 
 Baling. We thank thee, gentle Percy, for thy 
 
 pains ; 
 And to thy worth will add right worthy gains. 
 
 Enter Fitzwater. 
 
 F itz. My lord, I have from Oxford sent to Lon- 
 don 
 
 The heads of Brocas, and sir Bennet Seely ; 
 Two of the dangerous and consorted traitors, 
 That sought at Oxford thy dire overthrow. 
 
 Baling. Thy pains, Fitzwater, shall not be forgot, 
 Right noble is thy merit, well I wot. 
 
 Enter Percy, with the Bishop of Carlisle. 
 
 Percy. The grand conspirator, abbot of West- 
 minster, 
 
 With clog of conscience, and sour melancholy, 
 Hath yielded up his body to the grave ; 
 But here is Carlisle, living, to abide 
 Thy kingly doom, and sentence of his pride. 
 
 Baling. Carlisle, this is your doom : 
 Choose out some secret place, some reverend room, 
 More than thou hast, and with it joy thy life ; 
 So, as thou liy'st in peace, die free Irom strife : 
 For though mine enemy thou hast ever 'been, 
 High sparks of honour in thee have I seen. 
 
 Enter Exton, with attendants bearing a coffin. 
 
 Exton. Great'Tiinjr, within this coffin I present 
 Thy buried fear : herein all breathless lies 
 The mightiest of thy greatest enemies, 
 Richard of Bordeaux, by me hither brought. 
 
 Baling. Exton, I thank thee not j for thou hast 
 
 wrought 
 
 A deed of slander, with thy fatal hand, 
 Up(5n my head, and all this famous land. 
 
 Exlon. From your own mouth, my lord, did 1 
 this deed. 
 
 Baling. They love not poison that do poison need, 
 Nor do I thee ; though I did wish him dead, 
 I hate the murderer, love him murdered. 
 JThe guilt of conscience take thou for thy labour, 
 But neither my good word, nor princely favour : 
 With Cain go wander through the shade of night, 
 
 And never show thy head by day nor night. 
 
 Lords, I protest, my soul is full of wo, 
 
 That blood should sprinkle me, to make me grow : 
 
 Come, mourn with me for what I do lament, 
 
 And put on sullen black incontinent ;- 
 
 I'll make a voyage to (he Holy Land, 
 
 To wash this blood off from my guilty hand : 
 
 March sadly after ; grace my mournings here, 
 
 In weeping after this untimely bier. [Exeunt. 
 
 This play is one of those which Shakspeare has 
 apparently revised ; but as success in works of in- 
 vention is not always proportionate to labour, it is 
 not finished at last with the happy force of some 
 other of his tragedies, nor can be said much to af- 
 fect the passions, or enlarge the understanding. 
 
 JOHNSON.
 
 ( 385 ) 
 
 FIRST PART OF 
 
 KING HENRY 
 
 King Henry the Fourth. 
 ' 
 
 PERSONS REPRESENTED. 
 
 (Poins. 
 Gadshill. 
 Peto. Bardolph. 
 
 Thomas Percy, ear/ 
 
 Henry Percy, eari of Northumberland. 
 
 Henry Percy, surnamed Hotspur, Ins son. 
 
 Edmund Mortimer, earl oJ\Murch. 
 
 Scroop, archbishop of York. 
 
 Archibald, earl of Douglass. 
 
 Owen Glendower. 
 
 Sir Richard Vernon. 
 
 Sir John Falstaff. 
 
 Lady Percy, wife to Hotspur, and sister to Jlfor- 
 
 timer. v 
 
 Lady Mordmer, daughter to Glendower, and wife 
 
 to Mortimer. 
 Mrs. Quickly, hostess of a tavern in Eastcheap. 
 
 Lords, Officers, Sheriff", Vintner, Chamberlain, 
 Drawers, two Carriers, Travellers, and At- 
 tendants. 
 
 Scene, England, 
 
 ACT I. 
 
 SCA" I. London. _2 room in the palace. 
 Enter King Henry, Westmoreland, Sir Walter 
 Blunt, and others. 
 
 So 
 
 King Henry. 
 
 shaken as we are, so wan with care, 
 Find we a time for frisrhted peace to pant, 
 And breathe short-winded accents of new broils 
 To be commenc'd in stronds 1 afar remote. 
 No more the thirsty Erinnys 2 of this soil 
 Shall daub her lips with her own children's blood ; 
 No more shall trenching war channel her fields, 
 Nor bruise her flowrets with the armed hoofs 
 Of hostile paces ; those opposed eyes, 
 Which, like the meteors of a troubled heaven, 
 All of one nature, of one substance bred, - 
 Did lately meet in the intestine shock 
 And furious close of civil butchery, 
 Shall now, in mutual, well-beseemin:r ranks, 
 March all one way ; and be no more~oppos'd 
 Against acquaintance, kindred, and allies : 
 The edge of war, like an ill-sheathed knife, 
 No more shall cut his master. Therefore, friends, 
 As far as to the sepulchre of Christ 
 (Whose soldier now, under whose blessed cross 
 We are impressed and engag'd to fi^ht,) 
 Forthwith a power 3 of English shall we levy; 
 Whose arms were moulded in their mothers' womb 
 To chase these pagans, in those holy fields, 
 Over whose acres walk'd those blessed feet, 
 Which, fourteen hundred years ago, were nail'd, 
 For our advantage, on the bitter cross. 
 But this our purpose is a twelve-month old, 
 And bootless 1 'tis to tell you we will go ; 
 Therefore we meet not now : Then let me hear 
 Of you, my gentle cousin Westmoreland, 
 What yesternight our council did decree, 
 In forwarding this dear expedience.* 
 
 il) Strands, banks of the sea. 
 2} The Fury of discord. 
 3) Force, army. (4) Needless. (5) Expedili 
 
 on. 
 
 West. My liege, this haste was hot in question, 
 And many limits 6 of the charge set down 
 But yesternight : when, all athwart, there came 
 A post from Wales, loaden with heavy news ; 
 Whose worst was, that the noble Mortimer, 
 Leading the men of Herefordshire to fight 
 Against the irregular and wild Glendower, 
 Was by the rude hands of that Welshman taken, 
 And a thousand of his people butchered : 
 Upon whose dead corps there was such misuse, 
 Such beastly, shameless transformation, 
 By those Welshwomen done, as may not be, 
 Without much shame, re-told or spoken of. 
 
 K. Hen. It seems then, that the tidings of this 
 
 broil 
 Brake off our business for the Holy Land. 
 
 West. This, match'd with other, did, my gra- 
 cious lord; 
 
 For more uneven and unwelcome news 
 Came from the north, and thus it did import. 
 On Holy-rood day,' the gallant Hotspur there, 
 Young Harry Percy, and brave Archibald, 
 That ever-valiant and approved Scot, 
 At Holmedon met, 
 
 Where thev did spend a sad and bloody hour ; 
 As by discharge of their, artillery, 
 And shape of likelihood, the news was told ; 
 For he that brought them, in the very heat 
 And pride of their contention did take horse, 
 Uncertain of the issue any way. 
 
 K. Hen. Here is a dear and true-industrious 
 
 friend, 
 
 Sir Walter Blunt, new lighted from his horse, 
 Stain'd 8 with the variation of each soil 
 Betwixt that Holmedon and this seat of ours ; 
 And he hath brought us smooth and welcome news. 
 The earl of Douglass is discomfited ; 
 Ten thousand bold Scots, two and twenty knights, 
 Balk'd 3 in their own blood, did sir Walter see 
 On Holmedon's plains: Of prisoners, Hotspur took 
 Mordake the earl of Fife, and eldest son 
 
 (6) Estimates. (7) September 14. 
 
 (S) Covered with dirt of diflerent colours, 
 (9) Piled up in a heap. 
 
 fG
 
 386 
 
 FIRST PART OF KING HENRY IV. 
 
 Jlct I. 
 
 To beaten Douglas ; and the earls of Athol, 
 Of Murray, Angus, and Menteith. 
 And is not this an honourable spoil ? 
 A gallant prize ? ha, cousin, is it not ? 
 
 West. In faith, 
 It is a conquest for a prince to boast of. 
 
 K. Hen, Yea, there thou mak'st me sad, and 
 
 mak'st me sin 
 
 In envy that my lord Northumberland 
 Should be the lather of so blest a son : 
 A son who is the theme of honour's tongue ; 
 Amongst a grove, the very straightest plant ; 
 Who is sweet fortune's minion, and her pride : 
 Whilst I, by looking on the praise of him, 
 See riot and dishonour stain the brow 
 Of my young Harry. O, that it could be prov'd, 
 That some night-tripping fairy had exchanged 
 In cradle-clothes our children where they lay, 
 And call'd mine Percy, his Plantagenet ! 
 Then would I have his Harry, and he mine. 
 But let him from my thoughts : What think you, 
 
 coz, 
 
 Of this young Percy's pride ? the prisoners, 
 Which he in this adventure hath surpris'd, 
 To his own use he keeps ; and sends me word, 
 I shall have none but Mordake earl of Fife. 
 
 West. This is his uncle's teaching, this is Wor- 
 cester, 
 
 Malevolent to you in all aspects :' 
 Which makes him prune 2 himself, and bristle up 
 The crest of youth against your dignity. 
 
 K. Hen. But I have sent for him to answer this ; 
 And, for this cause, a while we must neglect 
 Our holy purpose to Jerusalem. 
 Cousin, on Wednesday next our council we 
 Will hold at Windsor, so inform the lords : 
 But come yourself with speed to us again ; 
 For more is to be said, and to be done, 
 Than out of anger can be uttered. 
 
 West. I will, my liege. ^ [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE II. The same. Jlnother room in the 
 palace. Enter Henry Prince of Wales, and 
 Falstaff. 
 
 Fal. Now, Hal, what time of day is it, lad ? 
 
 P. Hen. Thou art so fat-witted, with drinking 
 of old sack, and unbuttoning thee after supper, and 
 sleeping upon benches after noon, that thou hast 
 forgotten to demand that truly which thou would'st 
 truly know. What a devil hast thou to do with | 
 the time of the day ? unless hours were cups of 
 sack, and minutes capons, and clocks the tongues 
 of bawds, and dials the si<rns of leaping-houses, 
 and the blessed sun himself a fair hot wench in 
 flame-colour'd taffeta ; I see no reason, why thou 
 should'st be so superfluous to demand the time of 
 the day. 
 
 Fal. Indeed, you come near me, now, Hal : for 
 we, that take purses, go by the moon and seven 
 stars ; and not by Phoebus, he, that wandering 
 knight so fair. And, I pray thee, sweet wag, 
 when thou art king, as, God save thy grace 
 (majesty, I should say ; for grace thou wilt have 
 none,) 
 
 P. Hen. What, none ? 
 
 Fal. No, by my troth ; not so much as will 
 serve to be prologue to an egg and butter. 
 
 P. Hen. Well, how then ? come, roundly, 
 roundly. 
 
 H ) Points. (2) Trim, as birds clean their feathers. 
 (3) Favourites. (4) Stand still. (5) More wine. 
 ,\6) The dress of sheriffs' officers, 
 
 Fal. Marry, then, sweet wag, when thou art 
 king, let not us, that are squires of the night's body, 
 be called thieves of the day's beauty ; let us be 
 Diana's foresters, gentlemen of the shade, min- 
 ions 3 of the moon : And let men say, we be men 
 of good government : being govern'd as the sea is, 
 by our noble and chaste mistress the moon, under 
 whose countenance we steal. 
 
 P. Hen. Thou say'st well ; and it holds well too : 
 for the fortune of us, that are the moon's men, 
 doth ebb and flow like the sea ; being governed as 
 the sea is, by the moon. As, for proof, now : A 
 purse of gold most resolutely snatch'd on Monday 
 night, and most dissolutely spent on Tuesday 
 morning ; got with swearing lay by ; 4 and spent 
 with crying bring in : s now, in as Ion- an ebb as 
 the foot of the ladder ; and, by and by, in as high 
 a flow as the ridge of the gallows. 
 
 Fal. By the Lord, thou say'st true, lad. And is 
 not my hostess of the tavern a most sweet wench ? 
 
 P. Hen. As the honey of Hybla, my old lad of 
 the castle. And is not a buff jerkin a most sweet 
 robe of durance? 6 
 
 Fal. How now, how now, mad wag ? what, in 
 thy quips, and thy quiddities? what a plague have 
 I to do with a buft jerkin ? 
 
 P. Hen. Why, what a pox have I to do with my 
 hostess of the tavern ? 
 
 Fal. Well, thou hast called her to a reckoning, 
 many a time and oft. 
 
 P. Hen. Did I ever call for thee to pay thy part ? 
 
 Fal. No ; I'll give thee thy due, thou hast paid 
 all there. 
 
 P. Hen. Yea, and elsewhere, so far as my coin 
 would stretch ; and, where it would not, I have 
 used my credit. 
 
 Fal. Yea, and so used it, that were it not here 
 apparent that thou art heir apparent, But, I 
 pr'ythee, sweet wag, shall there be gallows stand- 
 ing in England when thou art king? and resolu- 
 tion thus fobbed as it is, with the rusty curb of old 
 father antic the law ? Do not thou, when thou art 
 kin?, hang a thief. 
 
 P. Hen. No ; thou shalt. 
 
 Fal. Shall I ? rare ! By the lord I'll be a brave 
 judge. 
 
 P. Hen. Thou judgest false already; I mean, 
 thou shalt have the hanging of the thieves, and so 
 become a rare hangman. 
 
 Fal. Well, Hal, well ; and in some sort it jumps 
 with my humour, as well as waiting in the court, I 
 can tell you. 
 
 P. Hen. For obtaining of suits? 
 
 Fal. Yea, for obtaining of suits : whereof the 
 langman hath no lean wardrobe. 'Sblood, I am 
 as melancholy as a gib' cat, or a lugged bear. 
 
 P. Hen. Or an old lion ; or a lover's lute. 
 
 Fal. Yea, or the drone of a Lincolnshire bagpipe.* 
 
 P. Hen. What sayest thou to a hare, or the 
 melancholy of Moor-ditch ? 
 
 Fal. Thou hast the most unsavoury similes ; and 
 art, indeed, the most comparative, rascalliest. 
 sweet young prince, But, Hal, I pr'ythec, trouble 
 me no more with vanity. I would to God, thou 
 and I knew where a commodity o.f good names 
 were to be bought : An old lord of the council ra- 
 d me the other day in the street about you, sir ; 
 )ut I marked him not : and yet he talked very 
 wisely ; but I regarded him not : and yet he talked 
 wisely, and in the street too. 
 
 (7) Gib cat, should be lib cat, a Scotch term 
 at this day for a gelded cat, 
 
 (8) Croak of a frog.
 
 Scent II. 
 
 FIIIST PART OP KING HENRY IV. 
 
 387 
 
 P. Hen. Thou didst well ; for wisdom cries out 
 in the streets, and no man regards it. 
 
 Fal. O thou hast damnable iteration: 1 and art, 
 indeed, able to corrupt a saint. Thou hast done 
 much harm upon me, Hal, God forgive thee for 
 it ! Before I knew thee, Hal, I knew nothing ; and 
 now am I, if a man should speak truly, little better 
 than one of the wicked. I must give over this life, 
 and I will eive it over ; by the Lord, an I do not, 
 I um a villain ; I'll be damned for never a king's 
 son in Christendom. 
 
 P. Hen. Where shall we take a purse to-mor- 
 row, Jack ? 
 
 Fal. Where thou wilt, lad, I'll make one ; an I 
 do not, call me villain, and baflle 2 me. 
 
 P. Hen. I see a good amendment of life in thee ; 
 from praying, to purse-taking. 
 
 Enter Poins, at a distance. 
 
 Fal. Why, Hal, 'tis my vocation, Hal ; 'tis no 
 sin for a man to labour in his vocation. Poins ! 
 Now shall we know if Gadsliill have set a match. 3 
 O, if men were to be saved by merit, what hole in 
 hell were hot enough for him ? This is the most 
 omnipotent villain, that ever cried, Stand, to a 
 true" man. 
 
 P. He/i. Good morrow, Ned. 
 
 Poins. Good morrow, sweet Hal. What savs 
 monsieur Remorse ? What says sir John Sack- 
 and-Sugar? Jack, how agrees the devil and thee 
 about thy soul, that thou soldest him on Good-friday 
 last, for a cup of Madeira, and a cold capon's leg"? 
 
 P. Hen. Sir John stands to his word, the devil 
 shall have his bargain ; for he was never yet a 
 breaker of proverbs, he will give the devil his due. 
 
 Poins. Then art thou damn'd for keeping thy 
 word with the devil. 
 
 P. Hen. Else he had been damned for cozening 
 the devil. 
 
 Poins. But, my lads, my lads, to-morrow morn- 
 ing, by four o'clock, early at Gadshill : There are 
 pilgrims goin<r to Canterbury with rich offerings, 
 and traders riding to London with fat purses : I 
 have visors 5 for you all, you have horses for your- 
 selves ; Gadshilf lies to-night in Rochester ; I have 
 bespoke supper to-morrow night in Eastcheap ; 
 we may do it as secure as sleep : If -you will go, I 
 will stuff your purses full of crowns ; if you will 
 not, tarry at home, and be hanged. 
 
 Fal. Hear me, Yedward ; if I tarry at home, and 
 go not, I'll hang } r ou for going. 
 
 Poins. You will, chops ? 
 
 Fal. Hal, wilt thou make one ? 
 
 P. Hen. Who, I rob ? I a thief? not I, by my 
 faith. 
 
 Fal. There's neither honest)-, manhood, nor good 
 fellowship in thee, nor thou earnest not of the blood 
 royal, if thou darest not stand for ten shillings. 6 
 
 P. Hen. Well, then, once in my days I'll be 
 mad-cap. 
 
 Fal. Why, that's well said. 
 
 P. Hen. W'ell, come what will, I'll tarry at home. 
 
 Fal. By the Lord, I'll be a traitor then, when 
 Ihou art king. 
 
 P. Hen. I care not. 
 
 Poins. Sir John, I pr'ythee, leave the prince and 
 me alone ; I will lay him down such reasons for 
 this adventure, that he shall go. 
 
 (1) Citation of holy texts. 
 
 }2) Treat me with ignominy. 
 3) Made an appointment. (4) Honest. 
 
 (5) Masks. 
 
 (6) The value pf a coin called real or royal. 
 
 Fal. Well, may'st thou have the spirit of per- 
 suasion, and he the ears of profiting, that what 
 hou speakest may move, and what he hears may 
 3e believed, that the true. prince may (for recrea- 
 ion sake) prove a false thief; for the poor abuses 
 of the time want countenance. Farewell : You 
 shall find me in Eastcheap. 
 
 P. Hen. Farewell, thou latter spring ! Farewell. 
 All-hallown summer !' [Exit Falstafc. 
 
 Poins. Now, my good sweet honey lord, ride 
 with us to-morrow ; -I have a jest to execute, that I 
 cannot manage alone. Falstaff, Bardolph, Peto, 
 and Gadshill, shall rob those men that we have al- 
 ready way-laid ; yourself, and I, will not be there: 
 and when they have the booty, if you and I do not 
 rob them, cut this head from my shoulders. 
 
 P. Hen. But how shall we part with them in 
 setting forth ? 
 
 Poins. Why, we will set forth before or after 
 .hem, and appoint them a place of meeting, where- 
 in it is at our pleasure to fail ; and then will thev 
 adventure upon the exploit themselves: which 
 they shall have no sooner achieved, but we'll set 
 upon them. 
 
 P. Hen. Ay, but, 'tis like, that they will know 
 us, by our horses, by our habits, and by every other 
 appointment, to be ourselves. 
 
 Poins. Tut! our horses they shall not see, I'll 
 tie them in the wood ; our vis'ors we will change, 
 after we leave them ; and, sirrah, I have cases of 
 buckram for the nonce, 8 to immask our noted out- 
 ward trarments. 
 
 P. Hen. But, I doubt, they will be too hard for us. 
 
 Poins. Well, for two of them, I know them to be 
 as true-bred cowards as ever turned back ; and 
 for the third, if he fight longer than he sees reason, 
 I'll forswear arms. The virtue of this jest will be, ' 
 the incomprehensible lies that this same fat rogue 
 will tell us, when we meet at supper : how thirty, 
 at least, he fought with ; what wards, what blows, 
 what extremities he endured ; and, in the reproof 
 of this, lies the jest. 
 
 P. Hen. Well, I'll go with thee : provide us all 
 things necessary, and meet me to-morrow night in 
 Eastcheap, there I'll sup. Farewell. 
 
 Poins. Farewell, my lord. [Exit Poins. 
 
 P. Hen. I know you all, and will a while uphold 
 The unypk'd humour of your idleness : 
 Yet herein will I imitate the sun ; 
 Who doth permit the base contagious clouds 
 To smother up his beauty from the world, 
 That, when he please again to be himself, 
 Being wanted, he may be more wonder'd at, 
 By breaking through the foul and ugly mists 
 Of vapours, that did seem to strangle him. 
 If all the year were playing holidays, 
 To sport would be as tedious as to work ; 
 But, when they seldom come, they wish'd-for come, 
 And nothing pleaseth but rare accidents. 
 So, when this loose behaviour I throw oft^ 
 And pay the debt I never promised, 
 Bv how much better than my word I am, 
 By so much shall I falsify men's hopes ;' 
 And, like bright metal on a sullen" grpund, 
 My reformation, glittering o'er my fault, 
 Shall show more goodly, and attract more eyes, 
 (Than that which hath no foil to set it off. 
 I'll so oftend, to make offence a skill : 
 Redeeming time, when men think least I will. [Ex. 
 
 (7) Fine weather at All-hallown-tide (i. e. All 
 Saints, Nov. 1st) is called an All-hallown summer. 
 
 (8) Occasion. 
 
 (9) Confutation. (10) Expectations, (ll)PulJ f
 
 388 
 
 FIRST PART OF KING HENRY IV. 
 
 .let 1. 
 
 SCENE III. The same. Another roam in the'Oui of the bowels of the harmless earth, 
 
 palace. Enter King Henry, Northumberland, 
 \Vorcester, Hotspur, Sir Walter Blunt, and 
 others. 
 
 K. He.n. My blood hath been too cold and tem- 
 perate, 
 
 Unapt to stir at these indignities, 
 And you have found me ; for, accordingly, 
 You tread upon my patience : .but, be sure, 
 I \vill from henceforth rather be myself, 
 Mighty, and to be fear'd, than my condition ;' 
 Which hath been smooth as oil, soft as young down, 
 And therefore lost that title cf respect, 
 Which the proud soul ne'er pays, but to the proud. 
 
 Wor. Our house, niy sovereign liege, little de- 
 serves 
 
 The scourge of greatness to be used on it ; 
 And that same greatness too which our own hands 
 
 ive holp to make so portly. 
 
 North. My lord, 
 
 K. Hen. Worcester, get thee gone, for I see 
 
 danger 
 
 And disobedience in thine eye: 0, sir, 
 Your presence is too bold and peremptory, 
 And majesty might' never yet endure 
 The moody frontier 4 of a servant brow. 
 You have good leave 3 to leave us ; when we neod 
 Your use and counsel, we shall send for vou. 
 
 You were about to speak. 
 Jfartk. 
 
 [Exit Worcester. 
 [To North. 
 Yea, my good lord. 
 
 Those prisoners in your highness' name demanded, 
 Which Harry Percy here at Holmedon took, 
 Were, as he says, not with such strength denied 
 As is deliver'd to your majesty : 
 Either envy, therefore, or misprision 
 Is guilty of this fault, and not my son. 
 
 Hot. My liege, I did deny no prisoners. 
 But, I remember, when the fight was done, 
 When I was dry with rage, arjji extreme toil, 
 Breathless and faint, leaning upon my sword, 
 Came there a certain lord, neat, trimly dress'd, 
 Fresh as a bridegroom ; and his chin, new reap'd, 
 Show'd like a stubble-land at harvest-home ; 
 He was perfumed like a milliner ; 
 And 'twist his finger and his thumb he held 
 A pouncet-box," which ever and anon 
 He gave his nose, and took't away again ; 
 Who, therewith angry, when it next came there, 
 Took it in snuff: and sliil he smil'd, and talk'd ; 
 And, as the soldiers bore dsad bodies by, 
 He call'd them untaught knaves, unmannerly, 
 To bring a slovenly unhandsome corse 
 Betwixt the wind and his nobility. 
 With many holiday and lady terms 
 He question'd me ; amonjfthe rest demanded 
 My prisoners, in your majesty's behajf. 
 I then, all smarting, with my wounds being cold, 
 To be so pester'd with a popinjay,* 
 Out of my grief 6 and my impatience, 
 Answer'd neglectinglv, i know not what; 
 He should, or he should not; for he made me mad, 
 To sbe him shine so brisk, and smell so sweet, 
 And talk so like a waiting-gentlewoman, 
 Of guns, and drums, and wounds, (God save the 
 
 mark ! ) 
 
 And telling me, the sovereign's! thing on earth 
 Was parmaceti, for an inward bruise ; 
 And that it was great pity, so it was, 
 That villanous salt-petre should be digg'd 
 
 (1| Disposition. (2) Forehead. 
 
 (S) Ready assent 
 
 {4} A small box for musk or other perfumes. 
 
 Which many a good tall' fellow had destroy'd 
 So cowardly; and, but for these vile guns, 
 He would himself have been a soldier. 
 This bald unjointed chat of his, my lord, 
 I answer'd indirectly, as I said ; 
 And, I beseech you, let not his report 
 Come current for an accusation, 
 Betwixt my love and your high majesty. 
 
 Blunt. The circumstance consider'd, good my 
 
 lord, 
 
 Whatever Harry Percy then had said, 
 To such a person and in such a place. 
 At such a time, with all the rest re-told, 
 May reasonably die, and never rise 
 To do him wrong, or any way impeach 
 What then he said, so he unsay it now. 
 
 K. Hen. Why, yet he doth deny his prisoners ; 
 But with proviso, and exception, 
 That we, at pur own charge, shall ransom straight 
 His brother-in-law, the foolish Mortimer ; 
 Who, on my soul, hath wilfully betray'd 
 The lives of those that he did lead to "fight 
 Against the great magician, damn'd Glendower ; 
 Whose daughter, as we hear, the earl of March 
 Hath lately married. Shall our coffers then 
 Be emptied, to redeem a traitor home ? 
 Shall we buy treason? and indent 8 with fears, 
 When they nave lost and forfeited themselves? 
 No, on the barren mountains let him starve ; 
 For I shall never hold that man my friend, 
 Whose tongue shall ask me for one penny cost 
 To ransom home revolted Mortimer. 
 
 Hot. Revolted Mortimer ! 
 He \iever did fall off, my sovereign liege, 
 But by the chance of war ; To prove that true, 
 Needs no more but one tongue for all those wounds, 
 Those mouthed wounds, which valiantly he took, 
 When on the gentle Severn's sedgy bank, 
 In single opposition, hand to hand, 
 He did confound the best part of an hour 
 In changing hardiment 10 with great Glendower : 
 Three times they breath'd, and three times did they 
 
 drink, 
 
 Upon agreement, of swift Severn's flood ; 
 Who then affrighted with their bloody looks, 
 Ran fearfully among the trembling reeds, 
 And hid his crisp 11 head in the hollow bank 
 Blood-stained with these valiant combatants. 
 Never did bare and rotten policy 
 Colour her working with such deadly wounds ; 
 Nor never could trie noble Mortimer 
 Receive so many, and all willingly : 
 Then let him not be slander'd with revolt. 
 
 K. Hen. Thou dost belie him, Percy, thou dost 
 
 belie him, 
 
 He never did encounter with Glendower: 
 I tell thee, 
 
 He durst as well have met the devil alone, 
 As Owen Glendower for an enemy. 
 Art not ashamed ? But, sirrah, henceforth 
 Let me not hear you speak of Mortimer : 
 Send me your prisoners with the speediest means, 
 Or you shall hear in such a kind from me 
 As will displease you. My lord Northumberland, 
 We license your departure with your son : 
 Send us your prisoners, or you'll hear of it. 
 
 \Exeimt King Henry, Blunt, and train. 
 
 Hot. And if the devil ccme and roar for them, 
 I will not send them : I will after straight, 
 
 - 
 
 (5) 
 
 (8) Si<rn an indenture, 
 
 (10) Hardiness, 
 
 (7) Brave. 
 (9) Expend. 
 (11) Curled.
 
 Scene III. 
 
 FIRST PART OF KING HENRY IV. 
 
 And tell him so ; for I will case my heart, 
 Although it be with hazard of my head. 
 North. What, d: unk with choler ? stay, and 
 
 pause a while ; 
 Here comes your uncle. 
 
 Re-enter Worcester. 
 
 Hot. Speak of Mortimer ? 
 
 Zounds, I will speak of him ; and let my soul 
 Want mercy, if I do not join with him : 
 Yea, on his part, I'll empty all these veins, 
 And shed my dear blood drop by drop i'the dust, 
 But I will lift the down-trod Mortimer 
 As hiah i'the air as this unthankful king 1 , 
 As this ingrate 1 and canker'd Boiingbroke. 
 
 North. Brother, the king hath made your nephew 
 mad. [To Worcester. 
 
 War. Who struck this heat up, after I was gone ? 
 
 Hot. He will, forsooth, have all my prisoners ; 
 And when I urg'd the ransom once again 
 Of my wife's brother, then his cheek look'd pale ; 
 And on my face he turn'd an eye of death, 
 Trembling even at the name of Mortimer. 
 
 War. I cannot blame him : was he not prockim'd, 
 By Richard that dead is, the next of hlood ? 
 
 North.. He was ; 1 heard the proclamation : 
 And then it was, when the unhappy king 1 
 ( Whose wrongs in us God pardon !) did set forth 
 Upon his Irish expedition ; 
 From whence he, intercepted, did return 
 To be depos'd, and shortly, murdered. 
 
 War. And for whose death, we- in the world's 
 
 wide mouth 
 Live scandaliz'd, and foully spoken of. 
 
 Hot. But, soft, I pray you : Did king Richard 
 
 then 
 
 Proclaim my brother Edmund Mortimer 
 Heir to the crown ? 
 
 North. He did: myself did hear it. 
 
 Hot. Nay, then I cannot blame his cousin kin<r, 
 That wish'd him on the barren mountains starv'd. 
 But shall it be, that yon, that set the crown 
 Upon the head of this forgetful man ; 
 And, for his sake, wear the detested blot 
 Of murd'rous subornation, shall it be, 
 That you a world of curses undergo ; 
 Being 1 the agents, or base second means, 
 The cords, the ladder, or the hansrman rather ? 
 O, pardon me, that ! descend so low, 
 To show the line, and the predicament, 
 Wherein you range under this subtle kin?. 
 Shall it, for shame, be spoken in these days, 
 Or fill up chronicles in time to come, / 
 
 That men of your nobility and power 
 Did gage them both in an unjust behalf, 
 As both of you, God pardon it. ! hp.ve done, , 
 To put down Richard, that sweet lovely rose, 
 Ana plant this thorn, this canker, 2 Boiingbroke? 
 And shall it, in more shame, be farther spoken, 
 That you are fool'd, discarded, and shook off 
 By him, for whom these shames ye underwent ? 
 No ; yet time serves, wherein you may redeem 
 Your uanish'd honours, and restore yourselves 
 Into the good thoughts of the world again : 
 Rcvenare the jeering, and disdain'd* contempt, 
 Of this proud kin? ; who studies, day and night, 
 To answer all the debt he owes to you, 
 Even with the bloody payment of your deaths. 
 Therefore, I say, 
 
 War. Peace, cousin, say no more : 
 
 (1) Ungrateful. (2) The dog-rose. 
 
 (3) Disdainful. (4) A rival. (5) Friendship. 
 (6) Shapes created by his imagination. 
 
 And now I will unclasp a secret book, 
 And to your quick-conceiving discontents 
 
 I'll read YOU matter deep and dangerous ; 
 As full of peril, and advent'rous spirit, 
 As to o'er-walk A current, roaring loud, 
 On the unsteadfast footing of a spear. 
 
 Hot. If he fall in, good night : or sink or swim . 
 Send danger from the east unto the west, 
 So honour cross it from the north to south, 
 And let them grapple ; O ! the blood more stirs. 
 To rouse a lion, than to start a hare. 
 
 North. Imagination of some great exploit 
 Drives him beyond the bounds of patience. 
 
 Hot. By heaven, melhinks, it were an easy leap, 
 To pluck bright honour from the pale-fac'd rnoon : 
 Or dive into tho bottom of the deep, 
 Where fathom-line could never touch the ground, 
 And pluck up drowned honour by the locks ; 
 So he, that doth redeem her thence, might wear, 
 Without corrival, 4 all her dignities : 
 But out upon this hatf-facY, fellowship ! s 
 
 War. He apprehends a world of figures* here. 
 But not the form of what hs should attend. 
 Good cousin, give me audience for a while. 
 
 Hoi. I cry you mercy. 
 
 Wor. Those same noble Scots, 
 
 That are your prisoners, -- 
 
 Hot. I'll keep them all ; 
 
 By heaven, he shall not have a Scot of them : 
 No, if a Scot would save his soul, he shall not: 
 I'll keep them, by this hand. 
 
 Wor. You start away, 
 
 And lend no ear unto my purposes. 
 Those prisoners you shall keep. 
 
 Hot. Nay, I will ; that's flat: 
 
 He said, he would not ransom Mortimer; 
 Forbad my tonjrtie to speak of Mortimer f 
 But I will find him when he lies asleep, 
 And in his ear, I'll holla Mortimer 1 ' 
 Nay, 
 
 I'll have a starling shall be taught to speak 
 Nothing but Mortimer, and give it him, 
 To keep his anger still in motion. 
 
 Wor. Hear you, 
 
 Cousin, a word. 
 
 Hot. All studies here I solemnly defy, T 
 Save how to gall and pinch this Boiingbroke : 
 And that same sword-and-buckler* 
 
 Wales, 
 
 But that I think his father loves him not, 
 A:;d would be clad he met with some mischance, 
 I'd have him poison'd with a pot of ale. 
 
 Wor. Farewell, kinsman ! I will talk to you, 
 When you are better temper'd to attend. 
 
 JVor//i. Why, what a wasp-stung and impatient 
 
 fool 
 
 Art thou, to break into this woman's ^ood ;' 
 Tying thine ear to no tongue but thine own ? 
 
 Hoi. Why, look you, I am whipp'd and scourg'U 
 
 with rods. 
 
 Nettled, and stuns: with pismires, when I hear 
 Of this vile politician, Bolintrbroke. 
 In- Richard's time, What c'o you call the place ? 
 A p'.atrue upon't! it is in Gloucestershire; 
 'Tivas where the mad-cap duke his uncle kept ; 
 His uncle York ; %vhere I first bowed my knee 
 Unto this king of smiles, this Boiingbroke, 
 When you and he came back from Ravenspurg. 
 
 North. At Berkley castle. 
 
 Hot. You 'say true : - 
 
 (7) Refuse. 
 
 (81 The term for a blustering quarrelsome fellow. 
 
 (9) Mind, humour. 
 
 prince of
 
 390 
 
 FIRST PART OF KING HENRY 
 
 Act II. 
 
 Why, what a candy 1 deal of courtesy 
 This fawning greyhound then did proffer me ! 
 Look, when nis infant fortune came to age, 
 And, gentle Harry Percy, and, kind cousin, 
 
 O, the devil take such cozeners ! God forgive 
 
 me ! 
 
 Good uncle, tell your tale, for I have done. 
 
 Wor. Nay, if you have not, to't again ; 
 We'll stay your leisure. 
 
 Hot. ' I have done, i'faith. 
 
 Wor. Then once more to your Scottish prisoners. 
 Deliver them up without their ransom straight, 
 And make the Douglas' son your only mean 
 For powers in Scotland ; which, for divers reasons, 
 Which I shall send you written, be assur'd, 
 Will easily be granted. You, my lord, 
 
 [To Northumberland. 
 
 Your son in Scotland being thus employ'd, 
 Shall secretly into the bosom creep 
 Of that same" noble prelate, well beloy'd, 
 The archbishop. 
 
 Hot. Of York, is'tnot? 
 
 Wor. True ; who bears hard 
 His brother's death at Bristol, the lord Scroop. 
 I speak not this in estimation, 2 
 As what I think might be. but what I know 
 Is ruminated, plotted, and set down ; 
 And only stays but to behold the face 
 Of that occasion that shall bring it on. 
 
 Hot. I smell it ; upon my life, it will do well. 
 
 North. Before the game's a-foot, thou still let'st 
 slip. 
 
 Hot. Why, it cannot choose but be a noble 
 
 plot : 
 
 And then the power of Scotland, and of York, 
 To .join with Mortimer, ha ? 
 
 Wor. And so they shall. 
 
 Hot. In faith, it is exceedingly well aim'd. 
 
 Wor. And 'tis no little reason bids us speed, 
 To save our heads by raising of a head : 3 
 For, bear ourselves as even as we can, 
 Thfc king will always think him in our debt ; 
 And think we think ourselves unsatisfied, 
 Till he hath found a time to pay us home. 
 And see already, how he doth begin 
 To make us strangers to his looks of love. 
 
 Hot. He does, he does ; we'll be reveng'd on 
 him. 
 
 Wor. Cousin, farewell : No further go in this, 
 Than I by letters shall direct your course. 
 When time is ripe (which will be suddenly,) 
 I'll steal to Glendower, and lord Mortimer ; 
 Where you and Douglas, and our powers at once 
 (As I will fashion it,) shall happily meet, 
 To bear our fortunes in our own strong arms, 
 Which now we hold at much uncertainty. 
 
 North. Farewell, good brother: we shall thrive, 
 I trust. 
 
 Hot. Uncle, adieu : O, let the hours be short, 
 Till fields, and blows, and groans, applaud our 
 sport ! [Exeunt. 
 
 ACT II. 
 
 SCENE I. Rochester. Jin inn-yard. Enter 
 a Carrier, with a lantern in his hand. 
 
 1 Car. Heigh ho ! An't be not four by the day, 
 
 1) Sugared. (2) Conjecture. 
 
 3) A body of forces. 
 
 4) The constellation ursa major. 
 
 5) Name of his horse. (6) Measure. 
 7) Wet. (8) Worms. 
 
 I'll be hanged : Charles' wain* is over the new 
 chimney, and yet our horse not packed. What, 
 ostler ! 
 Ost. [Within.] Anon, anon. 
 
 1 Car. I pr'ythee, Tom, beat Cut's 5 saddle, put 
 a few flocks in the point ; the poor jade is wrung 
 in the withers out of all cess. 6 
 
 Enter another Carrier. 
 
 2 Car. Pease and beans are as dank 7 here as a 
 dog, and that is the next way to <rive poor jades 
 the bots : 8 this house is turned upside down, since 
 Robin ostler died. 
 
 1 Car. Poor fellow ! never joyed since the price 
 of oats rose ; it was the death of him. 
 
 2 Car. I think, this be the most villanous house 
 in all London road for fleas : I am stung like a 
 tench. 
 
 1 Car. Like a tench ? by the mass, there is ne'er 
 a king- in Christendom could be better bit than I 
 have been since the first cock. 
 
 2 Car. Why, they will allow us ne'er a jorden, 
 and 1,hen ivc leak in your chimney ; and your cham- 
 ber-lie breeds fleas like a loach. 10 
 
 1 Car. What, ostler ! come away and be hanged, 
 come away. 
 
 2 Car. I have a gammon of bacon, and two razes 
 of ginger, to be delivered as far as Charing-cross. 
 
 1 Cur. 'Odsbody ! the turkeys in my pannier 
 arc quite starved. What, ostler ! A plague on 
 thee ! hast thou never an eye in thy head ? canst 
 not hear ? An 'twere not as good a deed as drink, 
 to break the pate of thee, I am a very villain. 
 Come, and be hanged : Hast no faith in thee ? 
 
 Enter Gadshill. 
 
 Gads. Good morrow, carriers. What's o'clock? 
 1 Car. I think it be two o'clock. 
 Gads. I pr'ythee, lend me thy lantern, to see 
 my gelding in the stable. 
 
 1 Car. Nay, soft, I pray ye ; I know a trick 
 worth two of that, i'faith. 
 
 Gads. I pr'ythee, lend me thine. 
 
 2 Car. Ay, when? canst tell? Lend me thy 
 lantern, quoth-a ? marry, I'll see thee hanged 
 first. 
 
 Gads. Sirrah carrier, what time do you mean to 
 come to London ? 
 
 2 Car. Time enough to go to bed with a candle, 
 I warrant thee. Come, neighbour Mugs, we'll 
 call up the gentlemen ; they will along tvith com- 
 pany, for they have great charge. [Exe. Carriers. 
 
 Gads. What, ho ! chamberlain ! 
 
 Cham. [Within.] At hand, quolh pick-purse. 11 
 
 Gads. That's even as fair as at hand, quoth the 
 chamberlain : for thou variest no more from picking 
 of purses, than giving direction doth from labour 
 ing ; thou lay'st the plot how. 
 
 Enter Chamberlain. 
 
 Cham. Good morrow, master Gadshill. It holds 
 current, that I told you yesternight : There's a 
 franklin 12 in the wild of Kent, hath brought three 
 hundred marks with him in gold : I heard him tell 
 it to one of his company, last night at supper ; a 
 kind of auditor ; one that hath abundance of charge 
 too, God knows what. They are up already, and 
 call for eggs and butter : They will away presently. 
 
 (9) Spotted like a tench. 
 
 HO) A small fish supposed to breed fleas. 
 
 (11) A proverb, from the pick-purse being always 
 ready. 
 
 (12) Freeholder.
 
 Scene II. 
 
 FIRST PART OF KING HENRY IV. 
 
 391 
 
 Gads. Sirrah, if they meet not with Saint Nicho-. miles afoot with me ; and the stony-hearted villains 
 las' clerks. 1 I'll give thee this neck. j know it well enough : A plague upon't, when 
 
 Cham. No, I'll none of it : I pr'ythee keep that thieves cannot be true to one another ! [They whis- 
 for the hangman; for, I know, thou worship'stitfe.] Whew! A plague upon you all! Give me 
 Saint Nicholas as truly as a man of falsehood may. my horse, you rogues ; give me my horse, and be 
 
 Gads. What talkest thou to me of the hangman ?jhanged. 
 
 if I han<r, I'll make a fat pair of gallows : for, if I P. Hen. Peace, ye fat-guts ! lie down ; lay thine 
 hang, old sir John hangs with me; and, thou (ear close to the ground, and list if thou canst hear 
 knowest, he's no starveling. * Tut! there are other the tread of travellers. 
 
 Trojans that thou dreamest not of, the which, for| Fal. Have you any levers to lift me up again, 
 sport sake, are content to do the profession some < being down? 'Sblood, I'll not bear mine own flesh 
 grace: that would, if matters should be lookedjso far afoot again, for all the coin in thy father's 
 into, for their own credit sake, make all whole, ijexchequer. YV hat a plague mean ye to colt" me 
 am joined with no foot land-rakers, 2 no long-staff,! thus? 
 
 six-penny strikers ; none of these mad, mustachio, 
 purple-hued malt-worms: but with nobility, and 
 tranquility ; burgomasters, and great oneyers ; 3 
 such as can hold in : such as will strike sooner than 
 speak, and speak sooner than drink, and drink sooner 
 than pray : And yet I lie ; for they pray continually 
 to their saint, the commonwealth ; or, rather, not 
 pray to her, but prey on her ; for they ride up and 
 down on her, and make her their boots.* 
 
 Cham. What, the commonwealth their boots? 
 will she hold out water in foul way ? 
 
 Gads. She will, she will ; justice hath liquored 
 her. 5 W T e steal as in a castle, cock-sure ; we have 
 the receipt of fern-seed, we walk invisible. 
 
 Cham. Nay, by my faith ; I think you are more 
 beholden to the night, than to fern-seed, for your 
 walking invisible. 
 
 Gads. Give me thy hand : thou shalt have a share 
 in our purchase, 6 as I am a truer man. 
 
 Cham. Nay, rather let me have it, as you are a 
 false thief. 
 
 Gads. Go to ; Homo is a common name to all tavern. 
 
 men. Bid the ostler bring my gelding out of the 
 stable. Farewell, you muddy knave. [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE II. The road by Gadshill. Enter Prince 
 
 Henry and Poins ; Bardolph and Peto at some 
 
 distance. 
 
 Poins. Come, shelter, shelter ; I have removed 
 FalstafF's horse, and he frets like a gummed velvet. 
 
 P. Hen. Stand close. 
 
 Enter Falstaff. 
 
 Fal. Poins ! Poins, and be hanged ! Poins ! 
 P. Hen. Peace, ye fat-kidneyed rascal ; What a 
 brawling dost thou keep ! 
 Fal. Where's Poins, Hal? 
 P. Hen. He is walked up to the top of the hill ; 
 
 I'll go seek him. 
 
 [Pretends to seel; Poins. 
 
 Fal. I am accursed to rob in that thief's com- 
 pany : the rascal hath removed my horse, and tied 
 him I know not where. If I travel but four foot 
 by the squire 8 further afoot, I shall break my wind. 
 Well, I doubt not but to die a fair death' for all 
 this, if I 'scape hanging for killing that rogue. I 
 have forsworn his company hourly anytime this 
 two and twenty years, and yet I am bewitched 
 with the rogue's company. If the rascal have not 
 iven me medicines 9 to make me love him, I'll be 
 anged ; it could not be else ; I have drunk medi- 
 
 n 
 
 P. Hen. Thou liest, thou art not colted, thou art 
 uncolted. 
 
 Fal. I pr'ythee, good prince Hal, help me to my 
 horse : good king's son. 
 
 P. Hen. Out, you rogue ! shall I be your ostler ? 
 
 Fal. Go, hang thyself in thy own heir-apparent 
 garters ! If I be ta'en, I'll peach for this. An I 
 have not ballads made on you all, and sung to filthy 
 tunes, let a cup of sack be my poison : When a jest 
 is so forward, and afoot too, I hate it. 
 Enter Gadshill. 
 
 Gads. Stand. 
 
 Fal. So I do, against my will. 
 
 Poins. O, 'tis our setter: I know his voice. 
 Enter Bardolph. 
 
 Bard. What news? 
 
 Gads. Case ye, case ye ; on with your visors ; 
 there's money of the king's coming down the hill ; 
 'tis goinsr to the king's exchequer. 
 
 Fal. You lie, you rogue ; 'tis going to the king's 
 
 Gads. There's enough to make us all. 
 
 Fal. To be hanged. 
 
 P. Hen. Sirs, you four shall front them in the 
 narrow lane ; Ned Poins, and I, will walk lower : 
 if they 'scape from your encounter, then they light 
 on us. 
 
 Peto. How many be there of them ? 
 
 Gads. Some eight, or ten. 
 
 Fal. Zounds ! will they not rob us ? 
 
 P. Hen. W r hat, a coward, sir John Paunch ? 
 
 Fal. Indeed, I am not John of Gaunt, your grand- 
 father ; but yet no coward, Hal. 
 
 P. Hen. Well, we leave that to the proof. 
 
 Poins. Sirrah Jack, thy horse stands behind the 
 hedge ; when thou needest him, there thou shalt 
 find'him. Farewell, and stand fast. 
 
 Fal. Now cannot I strike him, if I should be 
 hanged. 
 
 P. Hen. Ned, where are our disguises ? 
 
 Poins. Here, hard by ; stand close. 
 
 [Exeunt P. Henry and Poins. 
 
 Fal. Now, my masters, happy man be his dole, 12 
 say I ; every man to his business. 
 
 Enter Travellers. 
 
 1 Trar. Come, neighbour; the boy shall lead our 
 horses down the hill: we'll walk afoot awhile, and 
 ease our legs. 
 
 cines. Poins ! Hal! a plague upon you both! | Thieves. Stand. 
 
 Bardolph! Peto! I'll starve, ere I'lf rob a foot ' Trav. Jesu bless us! 
 
 further. An 'twere not as good a deed as drink to Fal. Strike, down with them ; cut the villains' 
 
 turn true 10 man, and leave these rogues, I am the throats : Ah! whoreson caterpillars! bacon-fed 
 
 veriest varlet that ever chewed with a tooth. Eight i knaves ! they hate us youth: down with them; 
 
 yards of uneven ground, is threescore and ten I fleece them. 
 
 (1) Cant term for highwaymen. 
 
 (2) Footpads. (3) Public accountants. 
 
 i4) Booty. (5) Oiled, smoothed her over. 
 
 (6) In what we acquire. (7) Honest. 
 
 (8) Square. (9) Love-powder. (10) Honest. 
 (11) Make a Youngster of me. (12) Portion.
 
 392 
 
 FIRST PART OF KING HENRY IV. 
 
 Act It. 
 
 1 Trav. 0, we are undone, both we and ours 
 for ever. 
 
 Fal. Hang ye, gorbellied 1 knaves ; Are ye un- 
 done? No, ye fat churl's; 2 I would, your store 
 bacons, on ! What, ye knaves ? 
 
 >, ye 
 ! On, 
 
 were here 
 
 young men must live : You are grand-jurors, are 
 
 ye? We'll jure ye, i'faith. 
 
 ' [Exeunt Fal. fyc. driving the Travellers out 
 
 Re-enter Prince Henry and Poins. 
 
 P. Hen. The thieves have bound the true men 
 Now could thou and I rob the thieves, and go mer- 
 rily to London, it would be argument 3 for a week 
 laughter for a month, and a good jest for ever. 
 
 Poins. Stand close, I hear them coming. 
 
 Re-enter Thieves. 
 
 Fal. Come, my masters, let us share, and then 
 to horse before day. An the prince and Poins be 
 not two arrant cowards, there's no equity stirring 
 there's no more valour in that Poins, than in a wi! 
 duck. 
 
 P. Hen. Your money. [Rushing out upon them. 
 Poins. Villians. 
 
 [Jis they are sharing, the Prince and Poins set 
 
 upon them. Falstaff, after a blow or two, 
 
 and the rest, run away, leaving their booh 
 
 behind them.] 
 
 P. Hen. Got with much ease. Now merrily to 
 
 horse : 
 
 The thieves are scatter'd, and possess'd.with fear 
 So strongly, that they dare not meet each other ; 
 Each takes his fellow for an officer. 
 Away, good Ned. Falstaff sweats to death, 
 And lards* the lean earth as he walks along : 
 Wer't not for laughing, I should pity him. 
 
 Poins. Ho;v the rogue roar'd ! 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE III. Warkwqrth. A room in the castle. 
 Enter Hotspur^Vf ading a letter. 
 
 But, for mine own part, my lord, I could be 
 
 well contented to be there, in respect of the love I 
 bscr your house. He could be contented, Why 
 is he not then ? In respect of the love he bears our 
 house : he shows in this, he loves his own barn 
 better than he loves our house. Let me see some 
 more. The purpose yoii undertake, is dangerous ; 
 Why, that's certain ; 'tis dangerous to take a cold, 
 to sleep, to drink: but I tell you, my lord fool, out 
 of this nettle, danger, we pluck this flower, safety. 
 The purpose you undertake, is dangerous; th 
 
 unsorted; and your whole plot too light, for the 
 counterpoise of so great an opposition. Say you so, 
 say you so ? I say unto you again, you are a shal- 
 Iow ; cowardly hind, and you lie. What a lack- 
 brain is this ? By the Lord, our plot is a good plot 
 as ever was laid : our friends true and constant : 
 a good plot, good friends, and full of expectation : 
 an excellent plot, very good friends. What a frosty- 
 spirited rogue is this ! Why, my lord of York com- 
 mends the plot, and the general course of the 
 action. Zounds, an I were now by this rascal, I 
 could brain him with his lady's fan. Is there not 
 my father, my uncle, and myself? lord Edmund 
 Mortimer, my lord of York, and Owen Glendower? 
 Is there not, besides, the Douglas ? Have I not all 
 their letters, to meet me in arms by the ninth of the 
 next month ? and are they not, some of them, set 
 forward already ? What a pagan rascal is this ! an 
 
 (1) Fat, corpulent. 
 (3) A subject. 
 (5) Occurrences. 
 
 2) Clowns. 
 
 4) Drops his fat. 
 
 6) Drops. 
 
 infidel! Ha! you^shall see now, in very sincerity 
 of fear and cold heart, will he to the king, and lay 
 open all our proceedings. O, I could divide my- 
 self, and go to bufl'ets, for moving such a dish of 
 kimmed milk with so honourable an action ! Hang 
 lim ! let him tell the kins;: We are prepared': 1 
 
 him ! 
 
 will set forward to-night." 
 
 Enter Lady Percy. 
 
 How now, Kate ? I must leave you within these 
 two hours. 
 
 Lady. O, my good lord, why are you thus alone ? 
 For what oiicnce have I, this fortnight, been 
 A banish'd woman from my Harry's bed ? 
 Tell me, sweet lord, what is't that takes from thee 
 Thy stomach, pleasure, and thy golden sleep ? 
 Why dost thou bend thine eyes upon the earth ; 
 And start so often when thou sit'st alone? 
 Why hast thou lost the fresh blood in thy cheeks ; 
 And given my treasures, and my rights of thee. 
 To thick-ey'a musing, and curs'd melancholy ? 
 In thy faint slumbers, I by thee have watch'd, 
 And heard thee murmur tales of iron wars: 
 Speak terms of manage to thy bounding steed ; 
 Cry, Courage ! to the field ! And thou hast talk'd 
 Of sallies, and retires ; of trenches, tents, 
 Of palisadoes, frontiers, parapets ; 
 Of basilisks, of cannon, culverin ; 
 Of prisoners' ransom, and of soldiers slain- 
 And all the 'currents 1 of a heady fight. 
 Thy spirit within thee hath been so at war, 
 And thus hath so bestirr'd thee in thy sleep, 
 That beads 6 of sweat have stood upon thy brow, 
 Like bubbles in a late-disturbed stream : 
 And in thy face strange motions have appear'd, 
 Such as we see when men restrain their breath 
 On some great sudden haste. 0, what portents are 
 
 these ? 
 
 Some heavy business hath my lord in hand, 
 And I must know it, else he loves me not. 
 
 Hot. What, ho ! is Gilliams with the packet gone? 
 
 Enter Servant. 
 
 Sen. He is, my lord, an hour ago. 
 Hot. Hath Butler brought those horses from the 
 
 sheriff? 
 
 Serv. One horse, my lord, he brought, even now. 
 Hot. What horse? a roan, a crop-ear, is it not ? 
 Serv. It is, my lord. 
 
 Hot. That roan shall be my throne. 
 
 Well, I will back him straight : O esperance .'* 
 
 friends you have named, uncertain; the time itself Bid Butler lead him forth into the park. [Ex. Serv. 
 
 Lady. But hear you, my lord. 
 
 Hot. What say'st, my lady ? 
 
 Lady. What is it carries you away ? 
 
 Hot. My horse 
 
 Vly love, my horse. 
 
 Lady. Out, you mad-headed ape ! 
 \ weasel hath not such a deal of spleen, 
 As you are toss'd with. In faith, 
 !'ll know your business, Harry, that I will. 
 : fear, my brother Mortimer doth stir 
 About his title ; and hath sent for you, 
 To line 8 his enterprize : But if you go 
 
 Hot. So far afoot, I shall be weary, love. 
 
 Lady. Come, come, you paraquito, 9 answer me 
 directly to this question that I ask. 
 n faith, I'll break thy little ringer, Harry, 
 An if thou wilt not tell me all things true. 
 
 Hot. Away, 
 Away, you trifler ! Love ? I love thee not, 
 
 (7) Motto of the Percy family. 
 
 (8) Strengthen. (9) Parrot.
 
 Seen* IV, 
 
 FIRST PART OF KING HENRY IV. 
 
 303 
 
 I care not for thee, Kate : this is no world. 
 To play with mammets, 1 and to tilt with lips : 
 We must have bloody noses, and crack'd crowns, 
 And pass them current too. Gods me, my hor;! 
 What say'st thou, Kate ? what would'st thou have 
 with me ? 
 
 Lady. Do you not love me ? do you not, indepd ? 
 Well, do not then ; for, since you love me not, 
 I will not love myself. Do you not love me? 
 N - v, tell me, if you speak in jest, or no. 
 
 flat. Come, wilt thou see me ride ? 
 And when I am ahorseback, I will swear 
 I love thee infinitely. But hark you, Kate ; 
 I must not have you henceforth question me 
 Whither I iro, nor reason whereabout : 
 Wfeiiher I must, I must; and, to conclude, 
 This evening must I leave you, gentle Kate. 
 I know you wise ; but yet -no further wise, 
 Than Harry Percy's wife : constant you are ; 
 But yet a woman : and for secrecy, 
 No lady closer ; for I well believe, 
 Thou wilt not utter what thou dost not know ; 
 And so far will I trust thee, gentle Kate ! 
 
 Lady. How ! so far ? 
 
 Hot. Not an inch further. But hark 
 
 Kate ; 
 
 Whither I go, thither shall you pro too ; 
 To-day will I set forth, to-morrow you. 
 Will this content you, Kate ? 
 
 Lady. It must, offeree. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 SCE.VE IV. Eastcheap. A room in the Boar's 
 Head Tavern. Enter Prince Kenry and Poins. 
 
 P. Hen. Ned, pr'ylhee, come out of that fat 
 room, and lend me thy hand to laugh a little. 
 
 Poins. Where hast been, Hal ? 
 
 P. Hen. With three or four loggerheads, amongst 
 three or four score hogsheads. 'I have sounded the 
 very base string of humility. Sirrah, I am sworn 
 brother to a leash 2 of drawers ; and can rail them 
 all by thei Christian names, as Tom, Dick, and 
 F 
 th 
 
 king of courtesy ; nnd tell me flatly I am no proud 
 Jack, like Fals'taff ; but a Corinthrin. 3 a hd of 
 mettle, a good bov, by the Lord, so they call me : 
 
 vou : 
 
 rancis. They take it already upon their salvation, 
 lat though I be but prince of Wales, yet I am the 
 
 and when I am kin? of England, I shall command 
 all the good lads in Eastcheap. They call drink- 
 ing deep, dying scarlet : and when you breathe in 
 your watering, they cry hem ! and bid you play 
 it off. To conclude, I am so good a proficient in 
 one quarter of an hour, that lean drink with anv 
 tinker in his own language during my life. I tell 
 thee, Ned, thou hast lost much honour, that thou 
 wert not with me in this action. But, sweet Ned 
 to sweeten which name of Ned, I give thee this 
 pennyworth of su<rar, clapped even now in my 
 hand by an under-skinker ; 4 one that never spake 
 other English in his life, than Eight .1 killings ant! 
 si.r)>nice, and You are if el cortte ; with this shrill 
 addition. #?ion, anon, sir! Score a pint of bas- 
 tard in the Half-moon, or so. But, Ned, to drive 
 away the time till Falstaff come, I pr'ythee, do thou 
 stand in some by-room, while I question my puny 
 drawer, to what end he gave me the sugar ; and 
 do thou never leave calling Francis, that his tain 
 to me may be nothinsr but anon. Step aside, and 
 I'll show thee a precedent. 
 
 Poini. Francis! 
 
 P. Hen. Thou art perfect. 
 
 Poins. Francis ' [Exit Poins. 
 
 (1) Puppets (2) Three. (3) A wencher. 
 
 Enter Francis. 
 
 Fran. Anon, anon, sir. Look down into the 
 Pomegranate, Ralph. 
 
 P. Hen. Come hither, Francis. 
 
 Fran. My lord. 
 
 P. Hen. How long hast thou to serve, Francis ? 
 
 Fran. Forsooth, five year, and as much as to 
 
 Poms. [Within.] Francis! 
 
 Fran. Anon, anon, sir. 
 
 P. Hen. Five years ! by'r lady, a long lease for 
 the clinking of pewter. But, Francis, darest thou 
 be so valiant, as to play the coward with thy in- 
 denture, and to show it a fair pair of heels, and run 
 from it? 
 
 Fran. O lord, sir! I'll be sworn upon all the 
 books in England, I could find in my heart 
 
 Poins. [Within] Francis! 
 
 Fran. Anon, anon, sir. 
 
 P. Hen. How old art thou, Francis? 
 
 Fran. Let me see, About Michaelmas next I 
 shall be 
 
 Poins. [in;".',i.] Francis! 
 
 Fran. Anon, sir. Pray you, str.y a little, my lord. 
 
 P. Hen. Nay, but hark you, Francis : For the 
 /,ou gavest me, 'twas a pennyworth, was't 
 not? 
 
 Fran. lord, sir ! I would it had been two. 
 
 i..-i. w iwi u. en ; i nrwuiu it uau utrcii itvu. 
 
 P. Hen. I will give thee for it a thousand pound : 
 ask r.vL- wh 'n thou wilt, and thou shall have it. 
 
 Poins. [ Within] Francis ! 
 
 Fran. Anon, anon. 
 
 P. Hen. Anon, Francis ? No, Francis : but to- 
 morrow, Francis ; or, Francis, on Thursday ; or, 
 indeed, Francis, when thou wilt. But, Francis, 
 
 Fran. My lord ? 
 
 P. Hen. Wilt thou rob this leather-jerkin, crys- 
 tal-button, nott-pated, agate-ring, puke-stocking 1 , 
 caddis-garter, smooth-tongue, Spanish-pouch, 
 
 Fran. O lord, sir, who do you mean ? 
 
 P. He:i. Why then, your brown bastard 5 is your 
 only drink: for, look you, Francis, your white can- 
 vass doublet will sully ; in Barbary, sir, it cannot 
 come to so much. 
 
 Fran. What, sir? 
 
 Poins. [Within.] Francis ! 
 
 P. Hen. Away, vou rogue ; Dost thou not hear 
 them call? 
 
 [Here they both call him; the draicer stands 
 amazed, not knowing icJiich way to go.] 
 
 Enter Vintner. 
 
 . What ! stand's! thou still, and hear'st such 
 a calling ? Look to the quests within. [Ex. Fran.] 
 Mv lord, old sir John, with half a dozen more, are 
 at "the door : Shall I let them in ? 
 
 P. Hen. Let them alone a while, and then open 
 the door. [Exit Vintner.] Poins! 
 
 Re-enter Poins. 
 
 Poin.i. Anon, anon, sir. 
 
 P. Hen. Sirrah, Falstaff and the rest of the 
 thieves are at the door ; Shall we be merrv ? 
 
 Pains. As merry as crickets, my lad. But hnrk 
 e : What cunning match have you made with this 
 jest of the drawer ? come, what's the issue ? 
 
 P. Hen. I am now of all humours, that have 
 show'd themselves humours, since the old days of 
 goodman Adam, to the pupil age of this present 
 twelve o'clock at midnight. [Re-enter Francis with 
 wine.] What's o'clock, Francis ? 
 
 Fran. Anon, anon, sir. 
 
 P. Hen. That ever this fellow should have fewer 
 
 (4) Tapster. 
 
 3D 
 
 (5) A sweet wine.
 
 394 
 
 FIRST PART OF KING HENRY IV. 
 
 .let II. 
 
 words than a parrot, and yet the'son of a woman ! 
 His industry is up-stairs, and down-stairs ; his elo- 
 quence, the parcel of a reckoning. I am not yet of 
 
 Percy's mind, the Hotspur of the north ; he that the doublet ; four, through the hose ; my buckler 
 
 cut through and through ; my sword hacked like a 
 hand-saw, ecce sigiium. I never dealt better since 
 I was a man ; all would not do. A plague of all 
 
 kills me some six or seven dozen of Scots at a 
 breakfast ; washes his hands, and says to his wife, 
 Fie upon this quiet life ! I want work. my 
 
 sweet Harry, says she, how many hast thou killed cowards ! Let them speak r^if they speak more or 
 
 to-day? Give my roan horse a drench, says he; *" 
 
 and answers, Some fourteen, an hour after ; a trifle, 
 
 a trifle. I pr'ythee, call in Falstaff ; I'll play Percy, 
 
 and that damned brawn shall play dame Mortimer, 
 
 his wife. Rivo, says the drunkard. Call in ribs, 
 
 call in tallow. 
 
 Enter Falstaff, Gadshill, Bardolph, ondPelo. 
 
 Poms. Welcome, Jack. Where hast thou bee.n ? 
 Ful. A plague of all cowards, T say, and a ven- 
 
 eeance too ! marrv, and amen ! Give me a cup of fresh men set upon us,- 
 lack, boy. Ere I lead this life long, I'll sew 
 
 nether-stocks, 1 and mend them, and foot them too. 
 A plague of all cowards ! Give me a cup of sack, 
 rogue. Is there no virtue extant? [He drinks. 
 P. Hen. Didst thou never see Titan kiss a dish 
 of butter? pitiful-hearted Titan, that melted at ihc 
 
 sweet tale of the son ! if thou didst, then behold P r ? ld J T f k l ' ien . l am two-legged creature. 
 
 < ^ /-'mjic Hriiv f-rrwl vnn hnv/> nnr miirnnrfjH m 
 
 that compound. 
 
 Fal. You rogue, here's lime in this sack too : 
 There is nothing but roguery to be found in villa- 
 nous man : Yet a i 
 sack with lime in it 
 
 ways, old Jack ; die when thou wilt, if manhood, 
 good manhood, be not forgot upon the face of the 
 earth, then am I a shotten herring. There live not 
 three good men unhanged in England ; and one of 
 them is fat, and grows old : God help the while ! 
 a bad world, I say ! I would I were a weaver ; I 
 could sing psalms, or any thing : A plague of all 
 cowards, I say still. * 
 
 P. Hen. How now, wool-sack? what mutter you? 
 
 Fa/. A king's son ! 
 thy kingdom with a dagger of lath, and drive all 
 thy subjects afore thee, like a flock of wild geese, 
 * I'll never wear hair on my face more. You prince 
 of Wales ! 
 
 P. Hen. Why, you whoreson round man ! what's 
 the matter ? 
 
 Fal. Are you not a coward ? answer me to that ; 
 and Poins there ? 
 
 Poins. Zounds, yet fat paunch, an ye oall me 
 coward, I'll stab thee. 
 
 Fal. I call thee coward ! I'll see thee damned ere 
 I call thee coward : but I would give a thousand 
 pound, I could run as fast as thou canst. You are 
 straight enough in the shoulders, you care not who 
 sees your back : Call you that backing of your 
 friends ? A plague upon such backing ! give me 
 them that will face me. Give me a cup of sack. 
 I am a rogue, if I drunk to-day. 
 
 P. Hen. 0, villain ! thy lips are scarce wiped 
 since thou drunk'st last. 
 
 Fal. All's one for that. A plague of all cow- 
 
 ards, still say I. 
 P. Hen. What's the matter ? 
 
 [He drinks. 
 
 Fal. What's the matter? there be four of us 
 here have ta'cn a thousand pound this morning. 
 
 P. Hen. Where is it, Jack ? where is it ? 
 
 Fal. Where is it ? taken from us it is : a hun- 
 dred upon four of us. 
 
 P. Hen. What, a hundred, man ? 
 
 (1) Stockings. 
 (2) 
 
 cloth. 
 
 A towr in Westmoreland, famous for making 
 
 Tal. I am a rogue, if I were not at half-sword 
 with a dozen of them two hours together. I have 
 'scap'd by miracle. I am eight times thrust through 
 
 less than truth, they are villains, and the sons of 
 darkness. 
 
 P. Hen. Speak, sirs ; how was it ? 
 
 Gads. We four set upon some dozen, 
 
 Fal. Sixteen, at least, my lord. 
 
 Gads. And bound them. 
 
 Peto. No, no, they were not bound. 
 
 Fal. You rogue, they were bound, every man 
 of them : or I am a Jew else, an Ebrew Jew. 
 
 Gads. As we were sharing, some six. or seven 
 
 Fal. And unbound the rest, and then come in 
 the other. 
 
 P. Hen. What, fought ye with them all ? 
 
 Fal. All ? I know not what ye call, all ; but if I 
 fought not with (ifty of them, I am a bunch of ra- 
 dish : if there were not two or three and fifty upon 
 
 Poins. Pray God, you have not murdered some 
 of them. 
 
 Fal. Nay, that's past praying for : for I have 
 
 ctVco'wardTiB worse' than a cup' of peppered two of them: two, 1 am sure, I have 
 3 in it ; a villanous coward. Go thy P 1 5 *wo rogues in buckram suits. I tell thee 
 --' - - J what, Hal, if I tell thee a he, spit in my face, call 
 
 me horse. Thou knowest my old ward ; here I 
 lay, and thus I bore my point. Four rogues in 
 
 buckram let drive at me, 
 
 P. Hen. What, four? thou said'st but two, even 
 now. 
 
 Fal. Four, Hal ; I told thee four. 
 Poins. Ay, ay, he said four. 
 Fal. These lour came all a-front, and mainly 
 
 >V L/^i-OUUI^ ; tVllGLl* UlUlbCl VL/Ui . _ ' - 
 
 ! If I do not beat thee out of thrust at me. I made me no more ado, but took 
 
 all their seven points in my target, thus. 
 
 P. Hen. Seven ? why, there were but four, even 
 now. 
 
 Fal. In buckram. 
 
 Poins. Ay, four, in buckram suits. 
 
 Fal. Seven, by these hilts, or I am a villain else. 
 
 P. Hen. Pry'lhce, let him alone; we shall have 
 more anon. 
 
 Fal. Dost thou hear me, Hal ? 
 
 P. Hen. Ay, and mark thee too, Jack. 
 
 Fal. Do so, for it is worth the listening to. These 
 nine men in buckram, that I told thee of, 
 
 P. Hen. So, two more already. 
 
 Fal. Their points being broken, 
 
 Poins. Down fell their hose. 
 
 Fal. Began to give me ground : But I followed 
 me close, came in foot and hand ; and, with a 
 thought, seven of the eleven I paid. 
 
 P. Hen. O, monstrous ! eleven buckram men 
 grown out of two ! 
 
 Fal. But, as the devil would have it, three mis- 
 begotten knaves, in Kendal 2 green, came at my 
 back, and let drive at me ; for it was so dark, 
 Hal, that thou could'st not see thy hand. 
 
 P. Hen. These lies are like the father that be- 
 gets them ; gross as a mountain, open, palpable. 
 Why, thou clay-brained guts ; thou knotty-paled 
 fool ; thou whoreson, obscene, greasy, tallow- 
 keech. 3 
 
 Fal. What, art thou mad ? art thou mad ? is not 
 the truth, the truth ? 
 
 (3) A round lump of fat.
 
 Scene IV. 
 
 FIRST PART OF KING HENRY IV. 
 
 395 
 
 P. Hen. Why, how could'st thou know these 
 men in Kendal green, when it was so dark thou 
 could'st not see thy hand ? come, tell us your reason ; 
 What savest thou to this ? 
 
 Poms. "Come, your reason, Jack, your reason. 
 
 Fal. What, upon compulsion ? JN o ; were I at 
 the strappado, or all the racks in the world, I would 
 not tell you on compulsion. Give you a reason 
 on compulsion ! If reasons were as plenty as black- 
 berries, I would give no man a reason upon com- 
 pulsion, I. 
 
 P. Hen. I'll be no longer guilty of this sin : this 
 sanguine coward, this bed-presser, this horse-back- 
 breaker, this huge hill of flesh ; 
 
 Fal. Away, you starveling, you elf-skin, you 
 dried neat's-tongue, bull's pizzle, you stock-fish, 
 O, for breath to utter what is like thec ! you tai- 
 lor's vard, you sheath, you bow-case, you vile 
 standing tuck ; 
 
 P. Hen. Well, breathe a while, and then to it 
 again : and when thou hast tired thyself in base 
 comparisons, hear me speak bat this. 
 
 Poins. Mark, Jack. 
 
 P. Hen. We two saw you four set on four ; you 
 
 bound them, and were masters of their wealth. 
 
 Mark now, how plain a tale shall put you down. 
 Then did we two set on you four : and, with a 
 word, out-faced you from your prize, and have it; 
 yea, and can show it you here in the house : and, 
 FalstafT, you carried your guts away as nimbly, 
 with as quick dexterity, and roared for mercy, and 
 still ran and roared, as ever I heard bull-calf. 
 What a slave art thou, to hack thy sword as thou 
 hast done ; and then say, it was in fight ! What 
 trick, what device, what starting-hole, canst thou 
 now find out, to hide thee from this open and ap- 
 parent shame ? 
 
 Poitis. Come, let's hear, Jack ; What trick hast 
 thou now? 
 
 Fal. By the Lord, I knew ye, as well as he that 
 made ye. Why, hear ye, my masters : Was it for 
 me to kill the heir apparent ? Should I turn upon 
 the true prince ? Why, thou knowest, I am as va- 
 liant as Hercules : but beware instinct ; the lion will 
 not touch the true prince. Instinct is a. great mat- 
 ter ; I was a coward on instinct. I shall think the 
 better of myself and thee, during my life ; I, for a 
 valiant lion, and thou for a true prince. But, by 
 
 the Lord, lads, I am glad you have the money. 
 
 Hostess, clap to the doors : watch to-night, pray 
 to-morrow. Gallants, lads, boys, hearts of gold, 
 all the titles of good fellowship come to you ! 
 What, shall we be merry ? shall we have a play 
 extempore ? 
 
 P. Hen. Content ; and the argument shall be, 
 thv running away. 
 
 Fed. Ah ! no more of that, Hal, an thou lovest me. 
 
 Enter Hostess. 
 
 Host. My lord the prince, 
 
 P. Him. How now, my lady the hostess? whal 
 say'st thou to me ? 
 
 "Host. Marry, my lord, there is a nobleman ol 
 the court at door, would speak with you : he says, 
 he comes from your father. 
 
 P. Hen. Give him as much as will make him a 
 royal man, and send him back again to my mother. 
 
 'Fid. What manner of man is he ? 
 
 Host. An old man. 
 
 Fal. What doth gravity out of his bed at mid- 
 night ? Shall I give him his answer ? 
 
 (1) In the fact. (2) Drunkenness and poverty. 
 (3) Bombast is the stuffing of clothes. 
 
 P. Hen. Pr'ythee, do, Jack. 
 
 Fal. 'Faith, and I'll send him packing. [Exit. 
 
 P. Hen. Now, sirs ; by'rladv, you fought lair; 
 so did you, Peto ; so did you,' Bardolph : you are 
 lions too, you ran away upon instinct, you will not 
 touch the true prince ; no, fie ! 
 
 Bard. 'Faith, I ran when I saw others run. 
 
 P. Hen. Tell me now in earnest, How came 
 Falstaflf s sword so ha'cked ? 
 
 Ptto. Why, he hacked it with his dagger; and 
 said, he would swear truth out of England but he 
 would make you believe it was done in fight ; and 
 persuaded us to do the like. 
 
 Bard. Yea, and to tickle our noses with spear- 
 grass, to make them bleed ; and then to beslubber 
 our garments with it, and to swear it was the blood 
 of true men. I did that I did not this seven year 
 before, I blushed to hear his monstrous devices. 
 
 P. Hen. O villain, thou stolest a cup of sack 
 eighteen years ago, and wert taken with the man- 
 ner, 1 and ever since thou bast blushed extempore ; 
 Thou hadst fire and sword on thy side, and yet 
 thou ran'st away ; What instinct hadst thou for it / 
 
 Bard. My lord, do you see these meteors ? do 
 you behold these exhalations? 
 
 P. Hen. I do. 
 
 Bard. What think you they portend ? 
 
 P. Hen. Hot livers and cold purses. 2 
 
 Ban!. Choler, my lord, if rightly taken. 
 
 P. Hen. No, if rightly taken, halter. 
 
 lie-enter Falstaff. 
 
 3ere comes lean Jack, here comes bare bone. How 
 now, my sweet creature of bombast ? 3 How long 
 s ? t ago, Jack, since thou sawest thine own knee ? 
 
 Feu. My own knee ? when I was about thy years, 
 tlal, I was not an eagle's talon in the waist; I 
 could have crept into any alderman's thumb-ring : 
 A plague of sighing and grief! it blows a man up 
 ike a bladder. There's villanous news abroad : 
 icre was sir John Bracy from your father ; you 
 must to the court in the morning. That same mad 
 "ellow of the north, Percy ; and he of Wales, that 
 gmve Amaimon* the bastinado, and made Lucifer 
 cuckold, and swore the devil his true liegeman upon 
 the cross of a Welsh hook, What, a plague, call 
 you him ? 
 
 Poins. O, Glendower. 
 
 Fal. Owen, Owen; the same; and his son-in- 
 law, Mortimer ; and old Northumberland ; and 
 that sprightly Scot of Scoty, Douglas, that runs 
 o'horseback up a hill perpendicular. 
 
 P. Hen. He that rides at high speed, and with 
 his pistol kills a sparrow flying. 
 
 Fal. You have hit it. , 
 
 P. Hen. So did he never the sparrow. 
 
 Fal. Well, that rascal hath good mettle in him ; 
 he will not run. 
 
 P. Hen. Why, what a rascal art thou then, to 
 praise him so for running ? 
 
 Fal. O'horseback, ye cuckoo ! but, afoot, he "will 
 not budge a foot. 
 
 P. Hen. Yes, Jack, upon instinct. 
 
 Fal. I grant ye, upon instinct. Well, he is there 
 too, and one Mordake, and a thousand blue-caps* 
 more : Worcester is stolen away to-night ; thj 
 father's beard is turned while with the news ; you 
 may buy land now as cheap as stinking mackarel. 
 
 P. I ten. Why then, 'tis like, if there come a hot 
 
 (4) A demon ; who is described as one of the 
 four kings, who rule over all the demons in tho 
 world. 
 
 (b) Scotsmen in blue bonnets,
 
 FIRST PART OF KING HENRY IV. 
 
 Jet II. 
 
 June, and this civil buffeting hold, we shall buy 
 maidenheads as they buy hob-nails, by the hundred. 
 
 Fal. By the mass, lad, thou sayest true ; it is 
 like, we shall have good trading that way. But, 
 tell me, Hal, art t!iou not horribly afeard ? thou 
 being heir apparent, could the world pick thee out 
 three such enemies again, as that fiend Douglas, 
 that spirit Percy, a:id that devil Glendower ? Art 
 thou not horribly afraid ? doth not thy blood thrill 
 at it? 
 
 P. Hen. Not a whit, i'iliith ; I lack some of thy 
 instinct. 
 
 Fed. Well, thou wilt be horribly chid to-morrow, 
 when thou comest to thy father : if thou love me, 
 practise an answer. 
 
 P. Hen. Do thou stand for my father, and ex- 
 amine me upon the particulars of my life. 
 
 Fal. Shall I? content: This chair shall be my 
 state, 1 this dagger my sceptre, and this cushion my 
 crown. 
 
 P. licit. Thy state is taken for a joint-stool, thy 
 golden sceptre for a leaden uiggcr, and thy pre- 
 cious rich crown, for a pitiful bald crown ! 
 
 Fal. Well, an the fire of grace be not quite out 
 of thee, now shalt thou be moved. Give me a cup 
 of sack, to make mine eyes look red, that it may 
 be thought I have wept : for I must speak in pas- 
 sion, and I will .do it in King Cambyses' 2 vein. 
 
 P. Hen. Well, here is my leg. 3 
 
 Fal. And here is my speech : Stand aside, no- 
 bility. 
 
 Jlost. This is excellent sport, i'faith. 
 
 Fal. Weep not, sweet queen, for trickling 'tears 
 are vain. 
 
 Host. O, the father, how tie holds his counte- 
 nance ! 
 
 Fal. For God's sake, lords, convey my tristful* 
 
 queen, 
 For tears do stop the flood-gates of her eyes. 
 
 Host. O rare ! he doth it like as one of these 
 harlotry players, as I ever see. . 
 
 Fal. Peace, good pint-pot; peace, good tickle- 
 brain. 4 Harry, I do not only marvel where thju 
 spendest thy time, but also how thou art accom- 
 panied : for though the camomile, the more it is 
 trodden on, the faster it grows, yet youth, the more 
 it is wasted, the sooner it wears. That thou art 
 my son, I have partly thy mother's word, partly 
 my own opinion ; but chiefly ; a villanous trick of 
 thine eye, and a foolish hanging of thy nether lip, 
 that doth warrant me. If then thou be son to me, 
 here lies the point, ; Why, being son to me, art 
 thou so pointed at? Shall the blessed sun of heaven 
 prove a micher, 6 and eat blackberries? a question 
 not to be asked. Shall the son of England prove 
 a thief, and take purses ? a question to be asked. 
 There is a thing, Harry, which thou hast often 
 heard of, and if. is known to many in our land by 
 the. name of pitch: this pitch, as ancient writers do 
 report, doth defile ; so doth the company thou 
 keepest : for, Harry, now I do not speak to thee in 
 drink, but in tears ; not in pleasure, but hi passion ; 
 not in words only, but in woes also: And yet 
 there is a virtuous man, whom I have often noted 
 in thy company, but I know not his name. 
 
 P. Hen. What manner of man, an it like your 
 majesty ? 
 
 Fal. A good portly man, i'faith, and a corpu- 
 
 (1) Chair of state. 
 
 (2) A character in a Tragedy by T. Preston, 1570. 
 
 (3) Obeisance. (4) Sorrowful. 
 
 (5) Name of a strong liquor. (6) A truant boy. 
 (7; A young rabbit. 
 
 lent; of a cheerful look, a pleasing eye, and a 
 most noljle carriage ; and, as I think, his age some 
 fifty, or, by'r lady, inclining to threescore ; and now 
 I remember me, his name is FalstafT: if that man 
 should be lewdly given, he deceiveth me ; for, Har- 
 ry, I see virtue in nis looks. If then the tree may 
 be known by the fruit, as the fruit by the tree, then, 
 peremptorily I speak it, there is virtue in that Fal- 
 staff: him keep with, the rest banish. And tell 
 me now, thou naughty varlct, tell me, where hast 
 thou been this month ? 
 
 P. Hen. Dost thou speak like a king? Do thou, 
 stand for me, and I'll play my father. 
 
 Fid. Depose me? if thou dost it half so gravely, 
 so majestically, both in word and matter, hang me, 
 up by the heels for a rabbit-sucker, 7 or a poulter's 
 hare. 
 
 P. Hen. Well, here I am set. 
 
 Fal. And here I stand : judge, my masters. 
 
 P. Hen. Now, Harry ? whence come you ? 
 
 Fal. My noble lord, from Eastcheap. 
 
 P. Hen. The^complaints I hear of thee are 
 grievous. 
 
 Fal. 'Sblood, my lord, they are false : nay, I'll 
 tickle ye for' a young prince, i'failh. 
 
 P. Hen. Swearest thou, ungracious boy ? hence- 
 forth ne'er look on me. Thou art violently carried 
 away from grace : there is a devil haunts thee, in 
 the likeness of a fat old man : a tun of man is thy 
 companion. Why dost thou converse with that 
 trunk of humours, that bolting-hutch 8 of beastli- 
 ness, that swoln parcel of dropsies, that huge bom- 
 bard 3 of sack, that stuffed cloak bag of guts, that 
 roasted Manningtree 10 ox with the pudding in his 
 belly, that reverend vice, that grey iniquify, that 
 father rutHan, that vanity in years i Wherein is he 
 good, but to taste sack and drink it, ? wherein neat 
 and cleanly, but to carve a capon and eat it ? 
 wherein cunning, but in craft? wherein crafty, but 
 in villany? wherein villanous, but in all things? 
 wherein worthy, but in nothing ? 
 
 Ful. I would, your grace would take me with 
 you ; u Whom means your grace? 
 
 P. Hen. That villanous, abominable misleader 
 of youth, FalstafF, that old white-bearded Satan. 
 
 Fal. My lord, the man I know. 
 
 P. Hen. I know, thou dost. 
 
 Fal. But to say, I know more harm in him than 
 f in myself, were to say more than 1 know. That he 
 is old (the more the pity,) his white hairs do wit- 
 ness it: but that he is (saving your reverence) a 
 whoremaster, that I utterly deny. If sack and su- 
 gar be a fault, God help the wicked ! If to be old 
 ind merry be a sin, then many an old host that I 
 know, is damned : if to be fat be to bo hated, then 
 Pharaoh's lean kine are to be loved. No, my good 
 lord ; banish Peto, banish Bardolph, banish Poins : 
 but for sweet Jack Falst.aff, kind Jack FalstafT, 
 rue Jack FalstafF, valiant Jack FalstafF, and there- 
 ore more valiant, being as ne is, old Jack FalstafF, 
 banish not him thy Harry's company ; banish plump 
 Jack, and banish all the work!. 
 
 P. Hen. I do, I will. [Jl knocking heard. 
 
 [Exeunt Hostess, Francis, and Bardolph. 
 Ite-enler Bardolph, running. 
 
 Bard. O, my lord, my lord ; the sheriff, with a 
 most monstrous watch, is at the door. 
 
 Fal. Out, you rogue ! play out the play : I have 
 much to say 'in the behalf of 'that FalstafF. 
 
 8} The machine which separates flour from bran. 
 9) A leather black-jack to hold beer. 
 
 (10} In Essex, where a large ox was roasted whole, 
 (11) Go no faster than I can follow.
 
 Scene /. 
 
 FIRST PART OF KING HENRY IV. 
 
 397 
 
 Re-enter Hostess, hastily. 
 
 Host. O Jesu, my lord, my lord ! 
 
 Fal. Heigh, heigh ! the devil rides upon a fid- 
 dle-stick : What's'the matter? 
 
 Host. The sheriff and all the watch are at the 
 door : they are come to search the house : Shall I 
 let them in ? 
 
 Fal. Dost thou hear, Hal? never call a true 
 piece of gold, a counterfeit : thou art essentially 
 mad, without seeming so. 
 
 P. Hen. And thou a natural coward, without 
 instinct. 
 
 Fal. I deny your major: if you will deny the 
 sheriff, so ; il not, let him enter : if I become not 
 a cart as well as another man, a plague on my 
 bringing up ! I hope, I shall as soon be strangled 
 with a halter, as another. 
 
 P. Hen. Go, hide thec behind the arras; 1 the 
 rest walk up above. Now, my masters, for a true 
 face, and good conscience. 
 
 Ful. Both which I have had : but their date is 
 out, and therefore, I'll hide me. 
 
 [Exeunt all but the Prince and Poins. 
 
 P. Hen. Call in the sheriff. 
 
 Enter Sheriff' and Carrier. 
 Now, master sheriff; what's your will with me? 
 
 Sher. First, pardon me, my'lord. A hue and cry 
 Hath follow'd certain men unto this house. 
 P. Hen. What men ? 
 Sher. One of them is well known, my gracious 
 
 lord, 
 A gross fat man. 
 
 Car. As fat as butter. 
 
 P. Hen. The man, I do assure you, is not here ; 
 For I myself at this time have employ'd him. 
 And, sheriff, I will engage my word to thee, 
 That 1 will, by to-morrcw dinner-time, 
 Send him to answer thee, or any man, 
 For any thing he shall be charg'd withal : 
 And so let me entreat you leave the house. 
 
 Sher. I will, my lord : There are two gentlemen 
 Have in this robbery lost three hundreu marks. 
 P. Hen. It may be so : if he have robb'd these 
 
 men, 
 
 He shall be answerable ; and so, farewell. 
 
 Sher. Good night, my noble lord. 
 
 P. Hen. I think it is good morrow ; is it not? 
 
 Sher. Indeed, my lord, I think it be two o'clock. 
 
 [Exeunt Sheriff and Carrier. 
 
 P. Hen. This oily rascal is known as well as 
 
 Paul's. 2 Go, call him forth. 
 
 Poins. Falstaff! fast asleep behind the arras, 
 and snorting like a horse. 
 
 P. Hen. Hark, how hard he fetches breath: 
 Search his pockets. [Poins searches.] What hast 
 thou found ? 
 
 Poins. Nothing but papers, my lord. , 
 P. Hen. Let's "see what thev be: read them. 
 Poins. Item, A capon, 2s. ;M. 
 Item, Sauce, 4d. 
 Item, Sack, two gallons, 5s. Sd. 
 Item, Anchovies, and sack afte'r supper, 2s. Cd. 
 Item, Bread, a halfpenny. 
 
 P. Hen. O monstrous"! but one halfpenny worth 
 of bread to this intolerable deal of sack ! Wha 
 there is else, keep close ; we'll read it at more ad- 
 Tantage : there let him sleep till day. I'll to the 
 court in the morning : we must all to the wars, ant 
 thy place shall be honourable. I'll procure this fa 
 rogue a charge of foot ; and, I know, his deal] 
 
 will be a march of twelve-score. The money 
 hall be paid back again with advantage. Be with 
 ne betimes in the morning ; and so good morrow, 
 ^oins. 
 Poins. Good morrow, good my lord. [Exeunt. 
 
 (1) Tapestry. 
 \3) Beginning. 
 
 (2) St. Paul's cathedral, 
 
 ACT HI. 
 
 v^*, ^ /. Bangor. A room in the archdeacon's 
 house. Enter Hotspur, Worcester, Mortimer, 
 and Glendower. 
 
 Jtfort. These promises are fair, the parties sure, 
 ind our induction 3 full of prosperous hope. 
 
 Hot. Lord Mortimer, and cousin Gleudower, 
 
 VilJ you sit down ? 
 
 \nd, uncle Worcester: A plague upon it! 
 " have forgot the map. 
 
 Glend. No, here it is. 
 
 it, cousin Percy ; sit, good cousin Hotspur: 
 'or by that name as oft as Lancaster 
 )oth speak of you, his cheek looks pale ; and with 
 
 rising sigh, he wisheth you in heaven. 
 
 Hot. And you in hell, as often as he hears 
 Jwen Glendower spoke of. 
 
 Glend. I cannot blame him : at my nativity, 
 Ths front of heaven was full of fiery shapes, 
 3f burning cressets ;" and at my birth, 
 ^he frame and huge foundation of the earth 
 Shak'd like a coward. 
 
 Hot. Why, so it would have done 
 
 \t the same season, if your mother's cat had 
 Jut kitten'd, though yourself had ne'er been born. 
 
 Glend. I say, the earth did shake when I was 
 born.' 
 
 Hot. And I say, the earth was not of my mind, 
 f you suppose, as fearing you it shook. 
 
 Glend. The heavens were all on fire, the earth 
 did tremble. 
 
 Hot. 0, then the earth shook to see the heavens 
 
 on fire, 
 
 Lnifcot in fear of your nativity. 
 Diseased nature oftentimes breaks forth 
 n strange eruptions : -oft the teeming earth 
 s with a land of cholic pinch'd and vex'd 
 3y the imprisoning of unruly wind 
 rVithin her womb ; which, for enlargement striving, 
 Shakes the old beldame earth, and topples* down 
 Steeples, and moss-grown towers. At your birth, 
 Jur grandam earth, having this distemperature, 
 in passion shook. 
 
 Glend. Cousin, of many men 
 
 I do not bear these crossings. Give me leave 
 To tell you once again, that, at my birth, 
 The fro'nt of heaven was full of fiery shapes ; 
 The goats ran from the mountains, and the herds 
 Were strangely clamorous to the frighted fields. 
 These sierns have mark'd me extraordinary ; 
 And all the courses of my life do show, 
 [ am not in the roll of common men. 
 Where is he living, clipp'd in with th^ ?rn 
 That chides the banks of England, Scotland, 
 
 Wales, 
 
 Which calls me pupil, or hath read to me ? 
 And bring him out, that is but woman's son, 
 Can trace me in the tedious ways of art, 
 And hold me pace in deep experiments. 
 
 Hoi. I think, there is no man speaks better 
 Welsh : 
 
 (4) Lights set crossways upon beacons, and also 
 upon poles, which were used in processions, &c. 
 (o) Tumbles,
 
 3DS 
 
 FIRST PART OF KING HENRY IV.- 
 
 Ail IIL 
 
 I will to dinner. 
 
 Mart. Peace, cousin Percy ; you will make him 
 mad. 
 
 Glend. I can call spirits from the vasty deep. 
 
 Hot. Why, so can I ; or so can any man : 
 But will they come, when you do call for them? 
 
 Glend.Wuy, I can teach you, cousin, to command 
 The devil. 
 
 Hot. And I can teach thee, coz, to shame the devil, 
 By telling truth ; Tell truth, and shame the devil. 
 If thou have power to raise him, hring him hither, 
 And I'll be sworn, I have power to shame him hence. 
 O, while you live, tell truth, and shame the devil. 
 
 Mart. Come, come, 
 No more of this unprofitable chat. 
 
 Glend. Three times hath Henry Bolingbroke 
 
 made head 
 
 Against my power: thrice from the hanks of Wye, 
 And sandy-bottoni'd Severn, have I sent him, 
 Bootless 1 home, and weather-beaten back. 
 
 Hot. Home without boots, and in foul weather 
 
 too! 
 How 'scapes he agues, in the devil's name ? 
 
 Glend. Come, here's the map ; Shall we divide 
 
 our right, 
 According to our three-fold order ta'en ? 
 
 Mart. The archdeacon hath divided it 
 Into three limits, very equally : 
 England, from Trent and Severn hitherto, 
 By south and east, is to my part assign'd : 
 All westward, Wales beyond the Severn shore, 
 And all the fertile land within that hound, 
 To Owen Glendower; and, dear coz, to you 
 The remnant northward, lying off from Trent. 
 And our indentures tripartite 2 are drawn : 
 Which being sealec^interchangeably, 
 (A business that this night may execute,) 
 To-morrow, cousin Percy, you, and I, 
 And my good lord of Worcester, will set forth, 
 To meet your father, and the Scottish power, 1 
 As is appointed us, at Shrewsbury. 
 My father Glendower is not ready yet, 
 Nor shall we need his help these fourteen days : 
 Within that space, [To Glend.] you may have 
 
 drawn together 
 Your tenants, friends, and neighbouring gentlemen. 
 
 Glend. A shorter time shall send me to you, lords, 
 And in my conduct shall your ladies come : 
 From whom you now must steal, and take no leave ; 
 For there will be a world of water shed, 
 Upon the parting of your wives and you. 
 
 Hot. Methinks, my moiety, 4 north from Burton 
 
 here, 
 
 In quantity equals not one of yours : 
 See, how this river comes me cranking in, 
 And cuts me, from the best of all my land, 
 A huge half moon, a monstrous cantle 5 out. 
 I'll have the current in this place damm'd up ; 
 And here the smug and silver Trent shall run, 
 In a new channel, fair and evenly : 
 It shall not wind with such a deep indent, 
 To rob me of so rich a bottom here. 
 
 Glend. Not wind ? it shall, it must ; you see, it 
 doth. 
 
 Mart. Yea, 
 But mark, how he bears his course, and runs 
 
 me up 
 
 With like advantage on the other side ; 
 Gelding" the opposed continent as much, 
 As on the other side it takes from you. 
 
 (1) Unsuccessful. (2) Three copies. (3) Force. 
 (4) Part. (5) Corner. (6) Cutting. 
 
 (7) Candlestick. (8) The writer of the artick --, 
 
 p War. Yea, but a little charge will trench him 
 
 here, 
 
 And on this north side win this cape of land ; 
 And then he runs straight and even. 
 
 Hot. I'll have it so ; a little~charge will do it. 
 
 Glend. I will not have it alter'd. 
 
 Hot. Will not you? 
 
 Glend. No, nor you shall not. 
 
 Hot. \Vho shall say me nay ? 
 
 Glend. Why, that will I. 
 
 Hot. - Let me not understand you then, 
 Speak it in Welsh. 
 
 Glend. I can speak English, lord, as well as you ; 
 For I was train'd up in the English court : 
 Where, being but young, I framed to the harp 
 Many an English ditty, lovely well, 
 And gave the tongue a helpful ornament ; 
 A virtue that was never seen in you. 
 
 Hot. Marry, and I'm glad of it with all my heart ; 
 I had rather be a kitten, and cry mew, 
 Than one of these same metre ballad-mongers: 
 I had rather hear a brazen canstick' turn'd, 
 Or a dry wheel grate on an axle-tree ; 
 And that would set my teeth nothing on edge, 
 Nothing so much as mincing poetry ; 
 'Tis like the forc'd gate of a shuffling nag. 
 
 Glend. Come, you shall have Trent turn'd. 
 
 Hot. I do not care : I'll give thrice so much land 
 To any well-deserving friend ; 
 But, in the way of bargain, mark ye me, 
 I'll cavil on the ninth part of a hair. 
 Are the indentures drawn ? shall we be gone ? 
 
 Glend. The moon shines fair, you may away by 
 
 night : 
 
 I'll haste the writer, 8 and, withal, 
 Break 9 with your wives of your departure hence : 
 I am afraid, my daughter will run mad, 
 So much she doteth on her Mortimer. [Exit. 
 
 Mort. Fie, cousin Percy ! how you cross mv 
 father ! 
 
 Hot. I cannot choose : sometimes he angers me 
 With telling me of the moldwarp 10 and the ant, 
 Of the dreamer Merlin arid his prophecies ; 
 And of a dragon and a finless fish, 
 A cfip-wing'd griffin, and a moulten raven, 
 A couching lion, and a ramping cat, 
 And such a deal of skimble-skamble stuff 
 As putsme from my faith. I tell you what, 
 He held me, but last night, at least nine hours 
 In reckoning up the several devils' names, 
 That were his lackeys : I cried, humph, and 
 
 well, go to, 
 
 But mark'd him not a word. O, he's as tedious 
 As is a tired horse, a railing wife ; 
 Worse than a smoky house : I had rather live 
 With cheese and garlic, in a windmill, far, 
 Than feed on cates," and have him talk to me, 
 In any summer-house in Christendom. 
 
 Mort. In faith, he is a worthy gentleman ; 
 Exceedingly well read, and profited 
 In strange concealments ; 12 valiant as a lion, 
 And wond'rous affable ; and as bountiful 
 As mines of India. Shall I tell you, cousin ? 
 He holds your temper in a high respect, 
 And curbs himself even of his natural scope, 
 When you do cross his humour ; faith, he does : 
 I warrant you, that man is not alive, 
 Miirht so have tempted him as you have done, 
 Without the taste of danger and reproof; 
 But do not use it oft, let me entreat you. 
 
 Wor. In faith, my lord, you are too wilful-blame ; 
 
 e; 
 
 (9) Break the matter. 
 (11) Dainties, 
 
 (10) Mole. 
 (12) Secrets,
 
 Seine II. 
 
 FIRST PART OF KING HENRY IV.' 
 
 Hot. 
 
 399 
 
 And since your coming hither have done enough 
 To put him quite beside his patience. 
 You must needs learn, lord, to amend this fault : 
 Thoughsometimesitshowgreatness,courage,blood,jBy'r ladv, lie's a 
 (Andlhat's the dearest grace it renders you,) 
 Vet oftentimes it doth present harsh rage, 
 Defect of manners, want of government, 
 Pride, haughtiness, opinion, and disdain : 
 The least of which, haunting a nobleman, 
 Loseth men's hearts ; and leaves behind a stain 
 Upon the beauty of all parts besides, 
 Bejuiling them of commendation. 
 Hot. Well, I am school'd ; good manners be 
 
 your speed ! 
 Here come our wives, and let us take our leave. 
 
 Re-enttr Glendower, rcith the Ladies. 
 Mort. This is the deadly spite that an<rers me, 
 My wife can speak no English, I no Welsh. 
 
 Glend. My daughter weeps ; she will not part 
 
 with you, " 
 
 She'll be a soldier too, she'll to the wars. 
 Jlort. Good father, tell her, that she, and my 
 
 aunt Percy, 
 Shall follow in your conduct 1 speedily. 
 
 [Glendower speaks to his daugliter in Welsh, 
 and she ansicers him in the same. 
 
 Now I perceive, the devil understands 
 Welsh ; 
 
 And 'tis no marvel, he's so humorous, 
 ood musician. 
 
 I Lady P. Then should you be nothing but mu- 
 sical ; for you are altogether governed by humours. 
 Lie still, ye thief, and hear the lady sing in Welsh. 
 
 Hot. I had rather hear Lady, my brach, 4 howl 
 n Irish. 
 
 Lady P. Would'st thou have thy head broken ? 
 
 Hot. No. 
 
 Lady P. Then be still. 
 
 Hot. Neither ; 'tis a woman's fault. 
 
 Lady P. Now God help thee ! 
 
 Hot. To the Welsh lady's bed. 
 
 Lady P. What's that ? 
 
 Hot. Peace ! she sings. 
 
 .2 Welsh SONG sung by Lady M. 
 
 Glend. She's desperate here ; a peevish self- 
 
 will'd harlotry, 
 One no persuasion can do good upon. 
 
 [Lady M. speaks to Mortimer in Welsh. 
 
 Mart. I understand thy looks : that pretty Welsh 
 
 Which thou pourest down from these swelling 
 
 heavens, 
 
 I am too perfect in ; and, but for shame, 
 In such a parley would 1 answer thee. 
 
 [Lady M. speaks. 
 
 I understand thy kisses, and thou mine, 
 And that's a feeling disputation : 
 But I will never be a truant, love, 
 Till I have learn'd thy language ; for thy tongue 
 Makes Welsh as sweet as ditties highly penn'd, 
 Sung by a fair queen in a summer's bower, 
 With ravishing division to her lute. 2 
 
 Gltnd. Nay, if you melt, then will she run mad. 
 
 [Ladv M. speaks again. 
 
 JMort. O, I am ignorance itself in this. 
 
 Glend. She bids you 
 
 Upon the wanton rushes lay you down, 
 
 And rest your gentle head upon her lap, 
 
 And she will sing the song that pleaseth you, 
 
 And on your eye-lids crown the god of sleep, 
 
 Charming your blood with pleasing heaviness ; 
 
 Making such difference 'twist wake and sleep, 
 
 As is the difference betwixt dav and nisrht, 
 
 The hour before the heavenly-harness'd team 
 
 Begins his golden progress in the east 
 
 Mart. With all my heart I'll sit, and hear her 
 
 sing: 
 By that time will our book, 3 I think, be drawn. 
 
 Glend. Do so ; 
 
 And those musicians that shall play to you, 
 Hang in the air a thousand leagues from hence ; 
 Yet straight they shall be here ; sit, and attend. 
 
 Hot. Come, Kate, thou art perfect in lying down : 
 Come, quick, quick ; that I may lay my head in thj 
 
 lap. 
 Lady P. Go, ye giddy goose. 
 
 Glendower speaks some Welsh words, and then the 
 music plays. 
 
 1) Guard, escort. 
 
 (2) A compliment to queen Elizabeth, 
 
 (3) Our paper of conditions. 
 
 Hot. Corne, Kate, I'll hare your song too. 
 
 Lady. P. Not mine, in good sooth. 
 
 Hot. Not yours, in good sooth! 'Heart, you swear 
 ike a comut-maker's wife ! Not you, in good sooth ; 
 and, As true as I live ; and, As God shall mend 
 ne : and, As sure as day : 
 \nd giv'st such sarcenet surety for thy oaths, 
 
 \s if thou never walk'dst further than'Finsbury.* 
 
 Swear me, Kate, like a lady, as thou art, 
 
 \ good mouth-filling oath ; and leave in sooth, 
 
 \nd such protest of pepper-gingerbread, 
 
 To velvet-guards, 6 and Sunday-citizens. 
 
 ome, sing 
 
 Lady P. I will not sing. , 
 
 Hot. 'Tis the nest way to turn tailor, or be red- 
 jreast teacher. An the indentures be drawn, I'll 
 away within these two hours ; and so come in when 
 ye will. [Exit. 
 
 Glend. Come, come, lord Mortimer ; you are as 
 
 slow, 
 
 As hot lord Percy is on fire to so. 
 By this our book's drawn : we'll but seal, and then 
 To horse immediately. 
 
 Mart. With all my heart. [Exe. 
 
 SCENE II. London. Jl room in the palace. En- 
 ler King Henry, Prince of Wales, and Lords. 
 
 K. Hen. 'Lords, give us leave ; the prince of 
 
 Wales and I 
 
 Must have some conference : But be near at hand, 
 For we shall presently have need of you. 
 
 [Exeunt Lords. 
 
 I know not whether God will have it so, 
 For some displeasing service I have done, 
 That in his secret doom out of my blood 
 He'll breed reyengernent and a scourge for me ; 
 But thou dost in thy passages of life, 
 Make me believe, that thou art only mark'd 
 For the hot vensreance and the rod of heaven, 
 To punish my mistreadings. Tell me else, 
 Could such inordinate, and low desires, 
 Such poor, such bare, such lewd, such mean at- 
 tempts,' 
 
 Such barren pleasures, rude society, 
 As thou art match'd withal, and grafted to, - 
 Accompanv the greatness of thy blood. 
 And hold their level with thy princely heart 1 
 
 P. Hen. So please your majesty, I would I could 
 Quit all offences with as clear excuse, 
 As well as, I am doubtless, I can purge 
 
 (4) Hound. (5) In Moorfields. 
 
 (6) Laced velvet, the finery of cockneys. 
 
 (7) Unworthy undertakings.
 
 400 
 
 FIRST PART OF KING HENRY IV. 
 
 Act III. 
 
 Myself of many I am charg'd withal : 
 
 Yet such extenuation let me beg, 
 
 As, in reproof of many tales devis'd, 
 
 Which oft the ear of greatness needs must hear, 
 
 By smiling pick-thanks' and base newsmongers, 
 
 I may, for some things true, wherein my youth 
 
 Hath faulty wander'd and irregular, 
 
 Find pardon on my true submission. 
 
 K. Hen. God pardon thee ! yet let me wonder, 
 
 Harry, 
 
 At thy affections, which do hold a wing 
 Quite" from ihe flight of all thy ancestors. 
 Thy place in council thou hast rudely lost, 
 Which by thy younger brother is supplied ; 
 And art almost an alien to the hearts 
 Of all the court and princes of my blood : 
 The hope and expectation of thy time 
 Is ruin'd ; and the sou! of every man 
 Prophetically does fore-think thy fall. 
 Had I so lavish of my presence been, 
 So common-hackney'd in tin: eyes of men, 
 So stale and cheap to vulgar company ; 
 Opinion, that did help me to the crown, 
 Had still kept loyal to possession ; 2 
 And left me in reputeless banishment, 
 A fellow of no mark, nor likelihood. 
 By being seldom seen, I could not stir, ' 
 But, like a comet, I was wonder'd at: 
 That men would tell their children, This is lie : 
 Others would say, Where ? is hick is Bolingbrohe 1 
 And then I stole all courtesy from heaven,' 
 And dress'd myself in such humility, 
 That I did pluck allegiance from men's hearts, 
 Loud shouts and salutations from their mouths, 
 Even in the presence ef the crowned king. 
 Thus did I keep my psrson fresh, and new ; 
 My presence, like a robe pontifical, 
 JMe'er seen, but wonder'd at : and so my state, 
 Seldom, but sumptuous, showed like a feast ; 
 And won, by rareness, such solemnity. 
 The skipping king, he ambled up and down 
 Witli shallow jesters, and rash bavin 3 
 Soon, kindled, and soon burn'd: cardod his state ; 
 Mincrl 'd his royalty with capering fools ; 
 Had his great name profaned with their scorns ; 
 And gave his countenance, a gainst his name, 
 To laugh at gibing boys, and stand the push 
 Of every beardless vain comparative: 4 
 Grew a companion to the common streets, 
 EnfeofTd* himself to popularity: 
 That bein<r daily swallow'd by men's eyes, 
 They surfeited with honey ; and began 
 To loathe the tas'c of sweetness, whereof a little 
 More than a little is by much too much. 
 So, when he had occasion to be seen, 
 He was but as a cuckoo is in June, 
 Heard, not regarded ; seen, but with such eyes, 
 As, sick and blunted with community, 
 AH'ord no extraordinary naze, 
 Such as is bent on sun-like majesty 
 When it shines seldom in admirin-r eyes : 
 But rather drowz'cl, and hung (heir eye-lids down, 
 Slept in his face, and render'd such aspect 
 As cloudy men use to their adversaries ; 
 Bein^ with his presence glutted, gorg'd, and full. 
 And in that very line, Harry, stand's! thou : 
 For thou hast lost thy prmccly privilege, 
 With vile participation ; not an eye 
 But is a-weary of thy common sight, 
 Save mine, which hath desir'd to see thee more ; 
 
 (1) Officious parasites. 
 
 (2) True lo him that had then possession of the 
 Crown. 
 
 Which now doth that I would not have it do, 
 Make blind itself with foolish tenderness. 
 
 P. Hen. I shall hereafter, my thrice-gracious lord, 
 Be more myself. 
 
 K . Hen. For all the world, 
 
 As thou art to this hour, was Richard then 
 When I from France set foot at Ravenspurg; 
 And even as I was then, is Percy now. 
 Now by my sceptre, and my soul to boot, 
 He hath more worthy interest to the state, 
 Than thou, the shadow of succession ; 
 For, of no right, nor colour like to right, 
 He doth fill fields with harness 6 in the realm ; 
 Turns head against the lion's armed jaws ; 
 And, being no more in debt to years than thou, 
 Leads ancient lords and reverend bishops on, 
 To bloody battles, and to bruising arms. 
 What never-dying honour hath he got 
 Against renowned Doughs ; whose high deeds, 
 Whose hot incursions, and great name in arms, 
 Holds from all soldiers chief majority, 
 And military title capital, 
 
 Through all the kingdoms that acknowledge Christ ? 
 Thrice hath this Hotspur iMars in swathing clothes, 
 This infant warrior, in his enterprises 
 Discomfitted great Douglas : ta'en him once, 
 Enlarged him, and made a friend of him, 
 To fill the mouth of deep defiance up, 
 And shake the peace and safety of our throne. 
 And what say you to this? Percy, Northumberland, 
 The archbishop's grace of York, Douglas, Mor 
 
 timer, 
 
 Capitulate' against us, and are up. 
 But wherefore do I tell these news to thee ? 
 Why, Harry, do I tell thee of my foes, 
 Which art my near'stand dearest 8 enemy? 
 Thou that art like enough, through vassal fear, 
 
 Base inclination, and the start of spleen, 
 
 To fmht against me under Percv's pay, 
 
 To dog his heels, and court'.- y at his frowns, 
 
 To show how much degenerate thou art. 
 
 P. Hen. Do not think so, you shall not find it so ; 
 And God forgive them, that 'have so much sway'd 
 Your majesty's good thoughts awav from me ! 
 1 will redeem all this on Percy's head, 
 And, in the closing of some glorious day, 
 Be bold to tell you, that I am your son ; 
 When I will wear a garment all of blood, 
 And stain my favours in a bloody mask, 
 Which, wash'd awav, shall scour my shame with it. 
 And that shall be the day, whene'er it lights, 
 That this same child of honour and renoVn, 
 This gallant Hotspur, this all-praised knight, 
 And your unlhought-pf Harry, chance to'meet: 
 For every honour sitting on his helm, 
 'Would they were multitudes ; and on my head 
 Mv shames redoubled ! for the time will come, 
 That I shall make this northern youth exchange 
 His glorious deeds for my indignities. 
 Percy is but my factor, good my lord, 
 To engross up glorious deeds on my behalf; 
 And I will call him to so strict account, 
 That he shall render every glory up, 
 Yea, even the slightest worship of his time, 
 Or I will tear the reckoning from his heart. 
 This, in the name of God, I promise here : 
 The which if lie be pleas'd I shall perform, 
 [ do beseech your majesty, may salve 
 The long-grown wounds of my intemperance: 
 If not, the end of life cancels all bands ; 3 
 
 (3) Brushwood. (4) Rival. (5) Possessed. 
 (6) Armour. (7) Combine. (8) Most fatal. 
 (9) Bonds.
 
 Scent til. 
 
 FIRST PART OP KING HENRY IV. 
 
 401 
 
 And I will die a hundred thousand deaths, 
 Ere break the smallest parcel 1 of this voiy. 
 
 K. Hf.n. A hundred thousand rebels die in this : 
 Thou shall have charge, and sovereign trust, herein. 
 
 Enttr Blunt. 
 How now, good Blunt? thy looks are full of speed. 
 
 Blunt. So hath the business that I come to 
 
 speak of. 
 
 Lord Mortimer of Scotland hath sent word, 
 That Douglas, and the English rebels, met, 
 The eleventh of this month, at Shrewsbury : 
 A mighty and a fearful head they are, 
 If promises be kept on every hand, 
 As ever otfur'd foul play in a state. 
 
 K. Hen. The earl of Westmoreland set forth 
 
 to-day ; 
 
 With him my son, lord John of Lancaster ; 
 For this advertisement 2 is five days old : 
 On Wednesday nest, Harry, you shall set 
 Forward ; on Thursday, we ourselves will march : 
 Our meeting is Bridstnorth: and, Harry, you 
 Shall march through Glostershire ; by which ac- 
 count, 
 
 Our business valued, some twelve days hence 
 Our general forces at Bridgnorth shall meet. 
 Our hands are full of business : let's away ; 
 Advantage feeds him fat, 3 while men delay. [Exe. 
 
 SCENE III Eastcheap. A room in the Boar's 
 Head Tavern. Enter Falstaff and Bardolph. 
 
 Fal. Bardolph, am I not fallen away vilely since 
 this last action ? do I not bate ? do I not dwindle ? 
 
 some liking;' I shall be out of heart shortly, and 
 then I shallhave no strength to repent. An I have 
 not forgotten what the inside of a church is made 
 of, I am a pepper-corn, a brewer's horse: the inside 
 of a church ! Company, villanous company, hath 
 been the spoil of me. 
 
 Bard. Sir John, you are so fretful, you cannot 
 live Ion?. 
 
 Fal. Why, there is it : come, sing me a bawdy 
 song ; make me merry. I was as virtuously given, 
 as a gentleman need to be ; virtuous enough : swore 
 little diced, not above seven times a week ; went 
 to a bawdy-house, not above once in a quarter 
 of an hour ; paid money that I borrowed, three or 
 lour times ; lived well, and in good compass : and 
 now I live out of all order, out of all compass. 
 
 Bard. Why, you are so fat, sir John, that you 
 must needs be out of all compass ; out of all rea- 
 sonable compass, sir John. 
 
 Fal. Do thou amend thy face, and I'll amend my 
 life: Thou art our admiral,* thou bearest the lan- 
 tern in the poop, but 'tis in the nose of thee ; thou 
 art the knight of the burning lamp. 
 
 Bard. Why, sir John, my face does you no harm. 
 
 Fal. No, I'll be sworn ; I make as good use of 
 it as many a man doth of a death's head, or a me- 
 mento mori : I never see thy face, but I think upon 
 hell-fire, and Dives that lived in purple ; for there 
 he is in his robes, burning, burning. If thou wert 
 any wav <*iven to virtue, I would swear by thy 
 
 face my oath should be, By this fire : but thou art 
 
 \ p 
 
 my horse, if I did not think thou hadst been an 
 
 1) Part. (2) Intelligence. 
 4) Hare some flesh. 
 
 (3) Feeds himself. 
 (5) Admiral's ship. 
 
 ignis fatiuis, or a ball of wildfire, there's no pur- 
 chase in money. 0, thou art a perpetual triumph, 
 n everlasting bonfire-light ! Tnou hast saved me 
 a thousand marks in links and torches, walking 
 with thee in the night, betwixt tavern and tavern : 
 )ut the sack that thou hast drunk me, would have 
 >ought me lights as good cheap, at the dearest 
 chandler's in Europe. I have maintained that 
 salamander of yours with fire, any time this two 
 and thirty years ; Heaven reward me for it ! 
 
 Bard. 'Sblood, I would my face were in your 
 belly! 
 
 Fal. God-a-mercy ! so should I be sure to be 
 icart-bunied. 
 
 Enter Hostess. 
 
 rlow now, dame Partlct the hen ? 6 have you in- 
 quired yet, who pick'd my pocket ? 
 
 Host. Why, sir John ! what do you think, sir 
 John ? Do you think I keejp thieves in my house ? I 
 lave searched, I have inquired, so has my husband, 
 man by m;in, bey by boy, servant by servant : the 
 tithe of a hair was never lost in my house before. 
 
 Fa!. You lie, hostess ; Bardolph was shaved, and 
 ost many a hair : and I'll be sworn, my pocket was 
 licked : Go to, you are a woman, go. 
 
 Host. Who, 1 1 I defy thee : I was never called 
 so in mine own house before. 
 
 Fal. Go to, I know you well enough. 
 
 Host. No, sir John ; you do not know me, sii 
 John : I know you, sir John : you owe me money, 
 sir John, and now you pick a quarrel to beguile me 
 of it : I bought you a dozen of shirts to your back. 
 
 Fal. Dowlas, filthy dowlas: I have given them 
 away to bakers' wives, and they have made bolters 
 of them. 
 
 Host. Now, as I am a true woman, holland of 
 eight shillings an ell. You owe money here besides, 
 sir John, for your diet, and by drinkings, and 
 money lent you, four and twenty pound. 
 
 Fal. He had his part of it ; let him pay. 
 
 Host. He ? alas, he is poor ; he hath nothing. 
 
 Fal. How ! poor ? look upon his face ; What call 
 you rich? let them coin his nose, let them coin his 
 cheeks ; I'll not pay a denier. What, will you make 
 a ydunker of me ? shall I not take mine ease in mine 
 inn, but I shall have my pocket picked? I have 
 lost a seal-ring of my grandfather's, worth forty 
 marlc. 
 
 Host. Jesu ! I have heard the prince tell him, 
 I know not how oft, that that ring was copper. 
 
 Fed. How ! the prince is a Jack,' a sneak-cup ; 
 and, if he were here, I would cudgel him like a 
 dog, if he would say so. 
 
 Enter Prince Henry and Poins, marching. Fal- 
 staff meets the Prince, playing on his truncheon 
 like a, jiff. 
 
 Fal. How now, lad ? is the wind in that door, 
 i'faith ? must we all march ? 
 
 Bard. Yea, two and two, Newgate-fashion. 
 
 Host. My lord, I pray you, hear me. 
 
 P. Hen. What sayest thou, mistress Quickly? 
 How does thy husband ? I love him well, he is an 
 honest man. 
 
 Host. Good my lord, hear me. 
 
 Fal. Pr'ythee, let her jftone, and list to me. 
 
 P. Hen. What sayest thou, Jack ? 
 
 Fal. The other night I fell asleep here behind 
 the arras, and had my pocket picked : this house, 
 
 (6) In the story-book of Reynard the Fox. 
 
 (7) A term of contempt frequently used by 
 Shakspeare. 
 
 3E
 
 FIRST PART OF KING HENRY IV. 
 
 Act IV. 
 
 is turned bawdy-house, they pick pockets. 
 
 P. Hen. What didst thou lose, Jack ? 
 
 Fal. Wilt thou believe me, Hal ? three or fou 
 bonds of forty pound a-piece, and a seal-ring of my 
 grandfather's. 
 
 P. Hen. A trifle, some eight-penny matter. 
 
 Host. So I told him, my lord ; and I said, '. 
 heard your grace say so : And, my lord, he speaks 
 most vilely of you, like a foul-mouthed man as he 
 in ; and said, he would cudgel you. 
 
 P. Hen. What ! he did not ? 
 
 Host. There's neither faith, truth, norwoman- 
 nood in me else. 
 
 P. Hen. There's no more fai^i in thee than in a 
 stewed prune ; nor no more truth in thee, than in 
 a drawn fox ; and for womanhood, maid Marian 
 may be the deputy's wife of the ward to thee. Go 
 you thing, go. 
 
 Host. Say, what thing ? what thing ? 
 
 Fal. What thing ? why, a thing to thank God on. 
 
 Host. I am no thing to thank God on, I woulc 
 thou should'st know it ; I am an honest man's wife : 
 and, setting thy knighthood aside, thou art & knave 
 to call me so. 
 
 Fal. Setting thy womanhood aside, thou art a 
 beast to say otherwise. 
 
 Host. Say, what beast, thou knave thou ? 
 
 Fal. What beast ? why. an otter. 
 
 P. Hen. An otter, sir John ? why an otter ? 
 
 Fal. Why ? she's neither fish, nor flesh ; a man 
 knows not where to have her. 
 
 Host. Thou art an unjust man in saying so; 
 thou or any man knows where to have me, thou 
 knave thou ! 
 
 P. Hen. Thou sayest true, hostess ; and he slan- 
 ders thee most grossly. 
 
 Host. So he doth you, my lord ; and said this 
 other day, you ought him a thousand pound. 
 
 P. Hen. Sirrah, do I owe you a thousand pound ? 
 
 Fal. A thousand pound, Hal ? a million : thy love 
 is worth a million ; thou owest me thy love. 
 
 Host. Nay, my lord, he called you Jack, and 
 said, he would cudgel you. 
 
 Fal. Did I, Bardolph ? 
 
 Bard. Indeed, sir John, you said so. 
 
 Fal. Yea : if he said, my ring was copper. 
 
 P. Hen. I say, 'tis copper : Darest thou be as 
 good as thy word now ? 
 
 Fal. Why, Hal, thou knowest, as thou art but 
 man, I dare : but, as thou art prince, I fear thee, 
 as I fear the roaring of the lion's whelp. 
 
 P. Hen. And why not, as the lion ? 
 
 Fal. The king himself is to be feared as the lion : 
 Dost thou think, I'll fear thee as I fear thy father ? 
 nay, an I do, I pray God, my girdle break ! 
 
 JP. Hen. O, if it should, how would thy guts fall 
 about thy knees ! But, sirrah, there's no room for 
 faith, truth, nor honesty, in this bosom of thine : it 
 is filled up with guts, and midriff. Charge an 
 honest woman with picking thy pocket ! Why, thou 
 whoreson, impudent, embossed 3 rascal, if there 
 were any thing in thy pocket but tavern-reckonings, 
 memorandums of bawdy-houses, and one poor 
 penny-worth of sugar-candy, to make thee long- 
 winded ; if thy pocket were enriched with any 
 other injuries but these, I am a villain. And yet 
 you will stand to it ; you will not pocket up wrong : 
 Art thou not ashamed ? 
 
 Fal. Dost thou hear, Hal ? thou knowest, in the 
 state of innocency, Adam fell ; and what should 
 
 (1) A man dressed like a woman, who attends 
 morris-dancers. 
 
 (2) Swoln, puffy, 
 
 poor Jack'Falstaff do, in the days of villany ? Thou 
 seest, I have more flesh than another man ; and 
 
 therefore more frailty. You confess then, you 
 
 picked my pocket ? 
 
 P. Hen. It appears so by the story. 
 
 Fal. Hostess, I forgive thee : Go, make ready 
 breakfast ; love thy husband, look to thy servants, 
 cherish thy guests : thou shall find me tractable to 
 any honest reason : thou seest, I am pacified. Still ? 
 Nay, pr'ythee, be gone. [Exit Hostess.] Notv, 
 Hal, to the news at court : for the robbery, lad, 
 How is that answered ? 
 
 P. Hen. O, my sweet beef, I must still be good 
 angel to thee : The monev is paid back again. 
 
 Fal. 0, I do not like that paying back, 'tis a 
 double labour. 
 
 P. Hen. I am good friends with my father, and 
 may do any thing. 
 
 Fal. Rob me the exchequer the first thing thou 
 doest, and do it with unwashed hands too. 
 
 Bard. Do, my lord. 
 
 P. Hen. 1 have procured thee, Jack, a charge 
 of foot. 
 
 Fal. I would, it had been of horse. Where shall 
 I find one that can steal well ? O for a fine thief, of 
 the age of two and twenty, or thereabouts ! I am 
 heinously unprovided. Well, God be thanked for 
 these rebels, they offend none but the virtuous ; I 
 land them. I praise them. 
 
 P. Hen. Bardolph 
 
 Bard. My lord. 
 
 P. Hen. "Go bear this letter to lord John of 
 
 Lancaster, 
 
 My brother John ; this to my lord of Westmore- 
 land. 
 Go, Poins, to horse, to horse ; for thou, and I, 
 
 Have thirty miles to ride yet ere dinner-time. 
 
 Jack, 
 
 Meet me to morrow i'the Temple hall, 
 
 At two o'clock i'the afternoon : 
 
 There shalt thou know thy charge ; and there 
 
 receive 
 
 Money, and order for their furniture. 
 The land is burning ; Percy stands on high ; 
 And either they, or we, must lower lie. 
 
 [Exeunt Prince, Poins, and Bardolph. 
 
 Fal. Rare words ! brave world ! Hostess, 
 
 my breakfast, come : 
 O, I could wish, this tavern were my drum. [Exit. 
 
 ACT IV. 
 
 SCENE I. The rebel camp, near Shrewsbury. 
 Enter Hotspur, Worcester, and Douglas. 
 
 Hot. Well said, my noble Scot : If speaking truth, 
 'n this fine age, were not thought flattery, 
 Such attribution should the Douglas 3 have, 
 As not a soldier of this season's stamp 
 Should go so general current through the world. 
 iy heaven, I cannot flatter ; I defy* 
 The tongues of soothers ; but a braver place 
 n my heart's love, hath no man than yourself: 
 tf ay, task me to the word ; approve me, lord. 
 
 Doug. Thou art the king of honour : 
 *Jo man so potent breathes upon the ground, 
 Jut I will beard 5 him. 
 Hot. Do so, and 'tis well : 
 
 (3) This expression is applied by way of pre- 
 eminence to the head of the Douglas family. 
 
 (4) Disdain. (5) Meet him face to face..
 
 Scent /. 
 
 FIRST PART OF KING HENRY IV. 
 
 403 
 
 Enter a Messenger, with Utters. 
 What letters hast thou there ? I can but thank you. 
 
 Mess. These letters come from your father, 
 
 Hot. Letters from him ! why comes he not him- 
 self? 
 
 JHess. He cannot come, my lord ; he's grievous 
 sick. 
 
 Hot. Zounds! how has he the leisure to be sick, 
 In such a justling time ? Who leads his power ? l 
 L'nder whose government come they along? 
 
 Mess. His letters bear his mind, not I, my lord. 
 
 War. I pr'ythee, tell me, doth he keep his bed ? 
 
 J\Iess. He did, my lord, four days ere I set forth ; 
 And at the time of my departure thence, 
 He was much fear'd by his physicians. 
 
 fVor. I would, the state of time had first been 
 
 whole, 
 
 Ere he by sickness had been visited ; 
 His health was never better worth than now. 
 
 Hot. Sick MOW ! droop now I this sickness doth 
 
 infect 
 The very life-blood of our enterprise ; 
 
 'Tis catching hither, even to our camp. 
 
 He writes me here, that inward sickness 
 
 And that his friends by deputation could not 
 
 So soon be drawn ; nor did he think it meet, 
 
 To lay so dangerous and dear a trust 
 
 On any soul remov'd, but on his own. 
 
 Yet doth he give us bold advertisement. 
 
 That with our small conjunction, we should on, 
 
 To see how fortune is dispos'd to us : 
 
 For, as he writes, there is nc quailing 2 now ; 
 
 Because the king is certainly poasess'd 1 
 
 Of all our purposes. What say you to it? 
 
 Wor. Your father's sickness is a maim to us. 
 
 Hot. A perilous gash, a very limb lopp'd off': 
 And yet, in faith, 'tis not; his present want 
 Seems more than we shall find it: Were it good, 
 To set the exact wealth of all our states 
 All at one cast ? to set so rich a main 
 On the nice hazard of one doubtful hour? 
 It were not pood : for therein should we read 
 The very bottom and the soul of hope ; 
 The very list, 4 the very utmost bound 
 Of all our fortunes. 
 
 Done:. 'Faith, and so we should ; 
 
 Where 5 now remains a sweet reversion : 
 We may boldly spend upon the hope of what 
 Is to come in : 
 A comfort of retirement lives in this. 
 
 Hot. A rendezvous, a home to fly unto, 
 If that the devil and mischance look big 
 Upon the maidenhead of our affairs. 
 
 Wor. But yet, I would your father had been 
 
 here.' 
 
 The quality and hair' of pur attempt 
 Brooks no'division : It will be thought 
 Bv some, that know not why he is away, 
 That wisdom, loyalty, and mere dislike 
 Of our proceedings/kept the earl from hence ; 
 And think, how such an apprehension 
 May turn the tide of fearful faction, 
 And breed a kind of question in our cause : 
 For, well you know, we of the offering side 
 Must keep aloof from strict arbitrement ; 
 And slop all sight- holes, every loop, from whence 
 The eye of reason mav pry in upon us : 
 This absence of your father's draws a curtain, 
 That shows the ignorant a kind of fear 
 Before not dreamt of. 
 
 (1) Forces. (2) Languishing. (3) Informed. 
 (4) Line. (5) Whereas. 
 
 {6) The complexion, the character. 
 
 Hot. You strain too far. 
 
 I, rather, of his absence make this use ; 
 It lends a lustre, and more great opinion, 
 A larger dare to our great enterprise, 
 Than if the earl were here : for men must think, 
 If we, without his help, can make a head 
 To push against the kingdom ; with his help, 
 We shall o'erturn it topsy-turvy down. 
 Yet all goes well, yet all our joints are whole. 
 
 Doug. As heart can think : there is not such a 
 
 word 
 Spoke of in Scotland, as this term of fear. 
 
 Enter Sir Richard Vernon. 
 
 Hot. My cousin Vernon ! welcome, by mv soul. 
 
 Ver. Pray God, my news be worth a welcome, 
 
 lord. 
 
 The earl of Westmoreland, seven thousand strong, 
 Is marching hitherwards; with him, prince JohnT 
 
 Hot. No harm : What more ? 
 
 Ver. And further, I have learn'd, 
 
 The king himself in person is set forth, 
 Or hitherwards intended speedily, 
 With strong and mighty preparation. 
 
 Hot. He shall be welcome too. Where is his son, 
 The nimble-footed mad-cap prince of Wales, 
 And his comrades, that dan 'd' the world aside, 
 And bid it pass ? 
 
 Ver. All furnish'd, all in arms, 
 
 All plum'd like estridges" that wing the wind ; 
 Bated like eagles having lately bath'd ;' 
 Glittering in golden coats, like images ; 
 As full of spirit as the month of May, 
 And gorgeous as the sun at midsummer ; 
 Wanton as youthful goats, wild as young bulls. 
 [ saw young Harry, with his beaver on, 
 His cuisses 10 on his thighs, gallantly arm'd, 
 Rise from the ground like feather'd Mercury, 
 And vaulted with such ease into his seat, 
 As if an angel dropp'd down from the clouds, 
 To turn and wind a fiery Pegasus, 
 And witch' ' the world with noble horsemanship. 
 
 Hot. No more, no more ; worse than the sun 
 
 in March, 
 
 This praise doth nourish agues. Let them come ; 
 They come like sacrifices in their trim, 
 And to the fire-ey'd maid of smoky war, 
 All hot, and blee'ding, will we offer them : 
 The mailed Mars shall on his altar sit, 
 Up to the ears in blood. I am on fire, 
 To hear this rich reprisal is so nigh, 
 And yet not ours : Come, let me take my horse, 
 Who'is to bear me, like a thunderbolt, 
 Atrainst the bosom of the prince of Wales : 
 Harry to Harry shall, hot horse to horse, 
 Meet, and ne'er part, till one drop down a corse. 
 0, that Glendower were come ! 
 
 Ver. There is more news : 
 
 I learn'd in Worcester, as I rode along, 
 He cannot draw his power this fourteen days. 
 
 Doug. That's the worst tidings that I hear of yet. 
 
 Wor. Av, by my faith, that bears a frosty sound. 
 
 Hot. What may the king's whole battle reach 
 unto? 
 
 Ver. To thirty thousand. 
 
 Hot. Forty let it be; 
 
 My father and Glendower being both away, 
 The powers of us may serve so great a day. 
 Come, let us make a muster speedily : 
 Doomsday is near ; die all, die merrily. 
 
 (7) Threw off. (8) Dressed with ostrich feathers. 
 (9) Fresh as birds just washed. (10i Armour. 
 (11) Bewitch, charm.
 
 404 
 
 FIRST PART OF KING HENRY IV. 
 
 JTc'.lV. 
 
 Doug. Talk not of dying : I am out of fear 
 Of death, or death's hand, (or this one half year. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE II. Jl public road near Coventry. Enter 
 Falstaff and Bardolph. 
 
 Fal. Bardolph, get thee before to Coventry; fill 
 me a bottle of sack: our soldiers shall march 
 through ; we'll to Sutton-Colfield to-night. 
 
 Bard. Will yort give me money, captain ? 
 
 Fal. Lav out, lay out. 
 
 Ba.nl. This bottle makes an angel. 
 
 Fal. An if it do, take it for thy labour ; and if 
 it make twenty, take them all, I'll answer the coin- 
 age. Bid my lieutenant Peto meet me at the 
 town's end. 
 
 Bard. I will, captain : farewell. [Exit. 
 
 Fal. If I be not ashamed of my soldiers, I am 
 a souced gurnet.' I have misused the king's press 
 damnably. I have got, in exchange of a nundred 
 and fifty soldiers, three hundred and odd pounds. 
 I press me none but good householders, yeomen's 
 sons : inquire me out contracted bachelors, such as 
 had been asked twice on the banns ; such a com- 
 modity of warm slaves, as had as lief hear the devil 
 as a drum ; such as fear the report of a caliver, 2 
 worse than a struck fowl, or a hurt wild-duck. I 
 pressed me none but such toasts and butter, with 
 hearts in their bellies no bigcrer than pin's heads, 
 and they have bought out their services ; and now 
 my whole charge consists of ancients, corporals, 
 lieutenants, gentlemen of companies, slaves as rag- 
 ged as Lazarus in the painted cloth, where the 
 glutton's dogs licked his sores : and such as, in- 
 deed, were never soldiers ; but discarded unjust 
 serving-men, younger sons to younger brothers, re- 
 volted tapsters, and ostlers trade-fallen ; the cankers 
 of a calm world, and a long peace ; ten times more 
 dishonourable ragged than an old faced ancient: 3 
 and such have I, to (ill up the rooms of them that 
 have bought out their services, that you wouldihink, 
 that I had a hundred and fifty tattered prodigals, 
 latelv come from swine-keeping, from eating draff 
 and husks. A mad fellow met me on the way, and 
 told me, I had unloaded all the gibbets, and pressed 
 the dead bodies. No eye hath seen such scare- 
 crows. I'll not march through Coventry with them, 
 that's fiat: Nay, and the villains march wide be- 
 twixt the legs, as if they had yves 4 on ; for, indeed, 
 I had the most of them out of prison. There's but 
 a shirt and a half in all my company ; and the half- 
 shirt is two napkins, tacked together, and thrown 
 over the shoulders, like a herald's coat withbut 
 sleeves ; and the shirt, to say the truth, stolen from 
 my host at Saint Alban's, or the red-nose inn- 
 keener of Daintry. 5 But that's all one ; they'll find 
 linen enough on every hedge. 
 
 Enter Prince Henry and Westmoreland. 
 
 P. Hen. How now, blown Jack? hownow, quilt? 
 
 Fal. What, Hal? How now, mad wag-? what a 
 devil dost thou in Warwickshire ? My good lord 
 of Westmoreland, I cry you mercy ; I thought your 
 honour had already been at Shrewsbury. 
 
 West. 'Faith, sir John, 'tis more than time that 
 I were there, and you too ; but my powers are 
 there already : The kine, I can tell you, looks for 
 us all ; we must away all night. 
 
 Fal. Tut, never fear me ; I am as vigilant as a 
 cat to steal cream. 
 
 P. Hen. I think, to steal cream, indeed ; for thy 
 
 A fish. 
 4) Fetters. 
 
 eun. (3) Standard. 
 (5) Daventry. 
 
 theft hath already made thce butter. But tell me, 
 Jack ; whose fellows are these that come after ? 
 
 Fal. Mine, Hal, mine. 
 
 P. Hen. I did never see such pitiful rascals. 
 
 Fal. Tut, tut ; good enough to toss ; food for 
 powder, food for powder ; they'll fill a pit, as well 
 as better : tush, man, mortal men, mortal men. 
 
 West. Ay, but, sir John, methinks they are ex- 
 ceeding poor and bare ; too beggarly. 
 
 Fal. 'Faith, for their poverty, I know not where 
 they had that : and for their bareness, I am sure, 
 they never learned that of me. 
 
 P. Hen. No, I'll be sworn ; unless you call 
 three fingers on the ribs, bare. But, sirrah, make 
 haste ; Percy is already in the field. 
 
 Fal. Whatj is the king encamped ? 
 
 West. He is, sir John ; I fear, we shall stay too 
 long. 
 
 Fal. Well, 
 To the latter end of a fray, and the beginning of a 
 
 feast, 
 Fits a dull fighter, and a keen guest. [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE III. The rebel camp near Shrewsbury. 
 
 Enter Hotspur, Worcester, Douglas, and Ver 
 
 non. 
 
 Hot. We'll fight with him to-night. 
 
 Wor. It may not be. 
 
 Doug. You give him then advantage. 
 
 Ver. Not a whit. 
 
 Hot. Why say you so ? looks he not for supply? 
 
 Ver. So do we. 
 
 Hot. His is certain, ours is doubtful. 
 
 Wor. Good cousin, be advis'd; stir not to-night. 
 
 Ver. Do not, my lord. 
 
 Doug. You do not counsel well ; 
 
 You speak it out of fear, and cold heart. 
 
 Ver. Do me no slander, Douglas : by my life, 
 (And I dare well maintain it with my life,) 
 If well-respected honour bid me on, 
 I hold as little counsel with weak fear, 
 As you my lord, or any Scot that lives : 
 Let it be seen to-morrow in the batlle, 
 Which of us fears. 
 
 Doug. Yea, or to-nirht. 
 
 Ver. Content. 
 
 Hot. To-night, say I. 
 
 Ver. Come, come, it mav not be. 
 
 I wonder much, being men of such great leading, 8 
 That you foresee not. what impediments 
 Drag back our expedition : Certain horse 
 Of my cousin Vernon's are not yet come up : 
 Your uncle VVorcester's horse came but to-day ; 
 And now their pride and mettle is asleep, 
 Their courage with hard labour tame and dull, 
 That not a horse is half the half himself. 
 
 Hot. So are the horses of the enemy 
 In general, journey-bated, and brought low ; 
 The better part of ours is full of rest. 
 
 Wor. The number of the king exceedeth ours : 
 For God's sake, cousin, stay till all come in. 
 
 [The trumpet sounds a parley. 
 
 Enter Sir Walter Blunt. 
 
 Blunt. I come with gracious offers from the king, 
 If vou vouchsafe me hearing, and respect, 
 Hot. Welcome, sir Walter Blunt ; And 'would 
 
 to God, 
 
 You were of our determination ! 
 Some of us love you well : and even those some 
 Envy your great deserving, and good name ; 
 Because you are not of our quality, 7 
 
 (6) Conduct, experience. (7) Fellowship,
 
 Scene IV. 
 
 FIRST PART OF KING HENRY IV. 
 
 405 
 
 But stand against us like an enemy. 
 Blunt. And God defend, but still I should 
 
 stand so. 
 
 So long as, out of limit, and true rule, 
 \ ou stand against anointed majesty ! 
 But, to my charge. The king hath sent to know 
 The nature of your griefs ;' and whereupon 
 You conjure from the breast of civil peace 
 Such bold hostility, teaching this duteous land 
 Audacious cruelty : If that the king 
 Have any way your good deserts forgot, 
 Which he confesseth to be manifold, 
 He bids you name your griefs ; and, with all speed 
 You shall have your desires, with interest ; 
 And pardon absolute for yourself, and these, 
 Herein misled by your suggestion. 
 Hot. The king is kind ; and, well we know, the 
 
 king 
 
 Knows at what time to promise, when to pay. 
 My father, and my uncle, and myself, 
 Did give him that same royalty he wears : 
 And, when he was not six and twenty strong, 
 Sick in the world's regard, wretched and low, 
 A poor unminded outlaw sneaking home, 
 My father gave him welcome to the shore : 
 
 And, when he heard him swear, and vow to God, 
 
 He came but to be duke cf Lancaster, 
 
 To sue his liven*, 2 and beg his peace ; 
 
 With tears of innocency, and terms of zeal, 
 
 My father, in kind heart and pity mov'd, 
 
 Swore him assistance, and perform'd it too. 
 
 Now, when the lords, and barons of the realm, 
 
 Percdv'd Northumberland did lean to him, 
 
 The more and less 3 came in with cap and knee ; 
 
 Met him in boroughs, cities, Tillages ; 
 
 Attended him on bridges, stood in lanes, 
 
 Laid cifts before him, proflfer'd him their oaths, 
 
 Gave him their heirs ; as pages fpllow'd him, 
 
 Even at the heels, in golden multitudes. 
 
 He presently, as greatness knows itself, 
 
 Steps me a little higher than his vow 
 
 Made to my father, while his blood was poor, 
 
 Upon the naked shore at Ravenspurg; 
 
 And now, forsooth, takes on him to reform 
 
 Some certain edicts, and some strait decrees, 
 
 That lie too heavy on the commonwealth : 
 
 Cries out upon abuses, seems to weep 
 
 Over his country's wrongs ; and, by this face, 
 
 This seeming brow of justice, did he win 
 
 The hearts of all that he did anprle for. 
 
 Proceeded further ; cut me off the heads 
 
 Of all the favourites, that the absent king 
 
 In deputation left behind him here, 
 
 When he was personal in the Irish war. 
 
 Blunt. Tut, I c:imc not to hear this. 
 
 Hot. Then, to the point. 
 
 In short lime after, he depps r d the king ; 
 
 Soon after that, depriv'd him of his life ; 
 
 And, in the neck of that, task'd the whole state : 
 
 To make that worse, sufler'd his kinsman, March, 
 
 (Who is, if every owner were well plac'd, 
 
 Indeed his king,) to be incac'd in Wales, 
 
 There without ransom to He forfeited : 
 
 Disgrac'd me in my happy victories ; 
 
 Sought to entrap me by intelligence ; 
 
 Rated my uncle from the council-board ; 
 
 In rage dismiss'd my father from the court ; 
 
 Broke oath on oath, committed wrong on wrong : 
 
 And, in conclusion, drove us to seek out 
 
 This head of safety ; and, withal, to pry 
 
 Into his title, the which we find 
 
 (1) Grievances. (2) The delivery of his lands. 
 (3) The greater ard tho less. (4) Letter. 
 
 Too indirect for long continuance. 
 
 Blunt. Shall I return this answer to the king ? 
 
 Hot. Not so, sir Walter ; we'll withdraw awhile. 
 Go to the king ; and let there be impawn'd 
 Some surety for a safe return again, 
 And in the morning early shall mine uncle 
 Bring him our purposes: and so farewell. 
 
 Blunt. I would you would accept of grace and 
 love. 
 
 Hot. And, may be, so we shall. 
 
 Blunt. 'Pray heaven, you do ! 
 
 SCENE IV. York. Jl room in the archbishop's 
 house. Enter the Archbishop of York, and a 
 Gentleman. 
 
 Jirch. Hie, good sir Michael ; bear this sealed 
 
 brief, 4 
 
 With winged haste, to the lord mareshal ; 
 This to my cousin Scroop ; and all the rest 
 To whom they are directed : if you knew 
 How much they do import, you would make haste. 
 
 Gent. My good lord, 
 I guess their tenor. 
 
 Like enough you do. 
 To-morrow, rrood sir Michael, is a day, 
 Wherein the fortune of ten thousand men 
 
 Must bide the touch : For, sir, at Shrewsbury, 
 
 As I am truly given to understand, 
 
 The king, with mighty and quick-raised power, 
 
 Meets with lord Harry : and I fear, sir Michael, 
 
 What with the sickness of Northumberland, 
 
 (Whose power was in the first proportion,) 
 
 And what with Owen Glendower's absence, thence, 
 
 ( Who with them was a rated sinew too,* 
 
 And comes not in, o'er-rul'd by prophecies,) 
 
 I fear, the power of Percy is too weak 
 
 To wage an instant trial with the king. 
 
 Gent. Why, good my lord, you need not fear ; 
 
 there's Douglas, 
 And Mortimer. 
 
 JtrcK. No, Mortimer's not there. 
 
 Gent. But there is Mordake, Vernon, lord Harry 
 
 Percy, 
 
 And there's my lord of Worcester ; and a head 
 Of gallant warriors, noble gentlemen. 
 
 Jlrch. And so there is; but yet the king hath 
 
 drawn 
 
 The special head of all the land together ; 
 The prince cf Wales, lord John of Lancaster, 
 The noble Westmoreland, and warlike Blunt ; 
 And many more cor-rivals, and dear men 
 Of estimation and command in arms. 
 
 Gent. Doubt not, my lord, they shall be well 
 oppos'd. 
 
 .tfreV*. I hope no less, yet needful 'tis to fear , 
 And, to prevent the worst, sir Michael, speed: 
 For, if lord Percy thrive not, ere the king 
 Dismiss his power, he means to visit us, 
 For he hath heard of our confederacy, 
 And 'tis but wisdom to make strong against him j 
 Therefore, make haste : I must go write again 
 To other friends ; and so farewell, sir Michael. 
 
 [Exe. severally. 
 
 ACT V. 
 
 SCENE I.The kind's camp near Shrewsbury. 
 Enter King Henry, Prince Henry, Prince John 
 of Lancaster. Sir Walter, Blunt, and Sir John 
 FalStaft". 
 K . Hen. How bloodily the sun begins to peer 
 
 (5) A strength on which we reckoned.
 
 406 
 
 FIRST PART OF KING HENRY IV. 
 
 Act V, 
 
 Above yon busky 1 hill ! the day looks pale 
 At his distemperature. 
 
 P. Hen. The southern wind 
 
 Doth play the trumpet to his purposes ; 
 And, by his hollow whistling in the leaves, 
 Foretells a tempest ? and a blustering day. 
 
 K. Hen. Then with the losers let it sympathize ; 
 For nothing can seem foul to those that win. 
 
 Trumpet. Enter Worcester and Vernon. 
 How now, my lord of Worcester ? 'tis not well, 
 That you and I should meet upon such terms 
 As now we meet : You have deceiv'd our trust ; 
 And made us doff 2 our easy robes of peace, 
 To crush our old limbs in ungentle steel : 
 This is not well, my lord, this is not well. 
 What say you to't ? will you again unknit 
 This churlish knot of all-abhorred war ? 
 And move in that obedient orb again, 
 Where you did give a fair and natural light ; 
 And be no more an exhal'd meteor, 
 A prodigy of fear, and a portent 
 Of broached mischief to the unborn times? 
 
 War. Hear me, my liege : 
 For mine own part, I could be well content 
 To entertain the lag-end of my life 
 With quiet hours ; for, I do protest, 
 I hare not sought the day of this dislike. 
 
 K. Hen. You have not sought for it ! how comes 
 / it then? 
 
 Tat. Rebellion lay in his way, and he found it. 
 
 P. Hen. Peace, cnewet, 3 peace. 
 
 War. It pleas'd your majesty, to turn your looks 
 Of favour, from myself, and all our house ; 
 And yet, I must remember you, my lord, 
 We were the first and dearest of your friends. 
 For you, my staff of office did I break 
 In Richard's time ; and posted day and night 
 To meet you on the way, and kiss your hand, 
 When yet you were in place and in account 
 Nothing so strong and fortunate as I. 
 It was myself, my brother, and his son, 
 That brought you home, and boldly did outdare 
 The dangers of the time : You swore to us, 
 And you did swear that oath at Doncaster, 
 That you did nothing purpose 'gainst the state ; 
 Nor claim no further than your new-fall'n right, 
 The seat of Gaunt, dukedom of Lancaster : 
 To this we swore our aid. But, in short space, 
 It rain'd down fortune showering on your head ; 
 And such a flood of greatness fell on you, 
 What with our help ; what with the absent king ; 
 What with the injuries of a wanton time ; 
 The seeming sufferances that you had borne ; 
 And the contrarious winds, that held the king 
 So lone in his unlucky Irish wars, 
 That all in England did repute him dead, 
 And, from this swarm of fair advantages, 
 You took occasion to be quickly woo'd 
 To gripe the general sway into your hand : 
 Forgot your oath to us at Doncaster ; 
 And, being fed by us, you'us'd us so 
 As that ungentle gull, the cuckoo's bird, 
 Useth the sparrow : did oppress our nest ; 
 Grew by our feeding to so great a bulk. 
 That even our love durst not come near your sight, 
 For fear of swallowing ; but with nimble wing 
 We were enforc'd, for safety sake, to fly 
 Out of your sight, and raise this present head : 
 
 Whereby we stand opposed by such means 
 *i.n you yourself have forg'd 
 
 forg'd against yourself; 
 
 (1) Woody. (2) Put off, 
 
 (3) A chattering bird, a pie 
 
 By unkind usage, dangerous countenance, 
 And violation of all faith and troth 
 Sworn to us in your younger enterprise. 
 
 K. Hen. These things, indeed, you have articu- 
 lated, 4 
 
 Proclaim'd at market-crosses, read in churches ; 
 To face the garment of rebellion 
 With some fine colour, that may please the eye 
 Of fickle changelings, and poor discontents, 
 Which gape, a'nd rub the elbow, at the news 
 Of hurly-burly innovation : 
 And never yet did insurrection want 
 Such water-colours, to impaint his cause ; 
 Nor moody beggars, starving for a time 
 Of pell-mell havoc and confusion. 
 
 P. Hen. In both our armies, there is many a soul 
 Shall pay full dearly for this encounter, 
 If once they join in trial. Tell your nephew, 
 The prince of Wales doth join with all the world 
 In praise of Henry Percy ; By my hopes, 
 This present enterprise set oft his head, 
 I do not think, a braver gentleman, 
 More active-valiant, or more valiant-young, 
 More daring, or more bold, is now alive, 
 To grace this latter age with noble deeds. 
 For my part, I may speak it to my shame, 
 I have a truant been to chivalry ; 
 And so, I hear, he doth account me too : 
 Yet this before my father's majesty, 
 I am content, that he shal) take the odds 
 Of his great name and estimation ; 
 And will, to save the blood on either side, 
 Try fortune with him in a single fight. 
 
 K. Hen. And, prince of Wales, so dare we ven- 
 ture thee, 
 
 Albeit, considerations infinite 
 Do make against it.- No, good Worcester, no, 
 We love our people well ; even those we love, 
 That are misled upon your cousin's part : 
 And, will they take the offer of our grace, 
 Both he, and they, and you, yea, every man, 
 Shall be my friend again, and I'll be his : 
 So tell your cousin, and bring me word 
 What he will do : But if he will not yield, 
 Rebuke and dread correction wait on us, 
 And they shall do their office. So, be gone ; 
 We will not now be troubled with reply : 
 We offer fair, take it advisedly. 
 
 [Exeunt Worcester and Vernon. 
 
 P. Hen. It will not be accepted, on my life : 
 The Douglas and the Hotspur both together 
 Are confident against the world in arms. 
 
 A'. Hen. Hence, therefore, every leader to his 
 
 charge ; 
 
 For, on their answer, will we set on them : 
 And God befriend us, as our cause is just ! 
 
 [Exeunt King, Blunt, and Prince John. 
 
 Fed. Hal, if thou see me down in the battle, and 
 bestride me, so ; 'tis a point of friendship. 
 
 P. Hen. Nothing but a colossus can do thce that 
 friendship. Say thy prayers ? and farewell. 
 
 Fal. I would it were bed-time, Hal, and all well. 
 
 P. Hen. Why, thou owest God a death. [Exit. 
 
 Fal. 'Tis not due yet; I would be loath to pay 
 him before his day. What need I be so forward 
 with him that calls not on me ? Well, 'tis no mat- 
 ter ; Honour pricks me on. Yea, but how if honour 
 prick me off when I come on ? how then ? Can 
 honour set to a leg ? No. Or an arm ? No. Or 
 take away the grief of a wound ? No. Honour 
 hath no skill in surgery then ? No. What is honour ? 
 A word. What is in that word, honour ? What is 
 
 (4) Exhibited in articles.
 
 Scene //, ///. 
 
 FIRST PART OF KING HENRY IV. 
 
 407 
 
 that honour? Air. A trim reckoning ! Who hath 
 it? He that died o' Wednesday. Doth he feel it ? 
 No. Doth he hear it? No. Is it insensible then ? 
 Yea, to the dead. But will it not live with the 
 living? No. Why? Detraction will not suffer it : 
 therefore I'll none of it : Honour is a mere scutch- 
 eon, 1 and so ends my catechism. [Exit. 
 
 SCENE II. The rebel camp. Enter Worcester 
 and Vemon. 
 
 War. O, no, my nephew must not know, sir 
 
 Richard, 
 The liberal kind offer of the king 1 . 
 
 Ver. 'Twere best he did. 
 
 Wor. Then are we all undone. 
 
 It is not possible, it cannot be, 
 The king should" keep his word in loving us ; 
 He will suspect us still, and find a time 
 To punish this offence in other faults : 
 Suspicion shall be all stuck full of eyes: 
 For treason is but trusted like the fox ; 
 Who, ne'er so tame, so cherish'd, and lock'd up, 
 Will have a wild trick of his ancestors. 
 Look how we can, or sad, or merrily, 
 Interpretation will misquote our looks ; 
 And we shall feed like oxen at a stall, 
 The better cherish'd, still the nearer death. 
 My nephew's trespass may be well forgot, 
 It hath the excuse of youth, and heat of blood ; 
 And an adopted name of privilege, 
 A hair-brain'd Hotspur, govern'd by a spleen : 
 All his offences live upon my head, 
 And on his lather's ; we did train him on ; 
 And, his corruption being ta'en from us. 
 We, as the spring of all, shall pay for all. 
 Therefore, good cousin, let not Harry know, 
 In any case, the ofler of the kins'. 
 
 Ver. Deliver what you will, I'll say, 'tis so. 
 Here comes your cousin. 
 
 Enter Hotspur and Douglas ; and officers and 
 soldiers, behind. 
 
 Hot. My uncle is return'd : Deliver up 
 Mv lord of Westmoreland. Uncle, what news? 
 
 Wor. The kinsT will bid you battle presently. 
 
 Doug. Defy him by the lord of Westmoreland. 
 
 Hot. Lord Douglas, go you and tell him so. 
 
 Doug. Marry, and shall, and very willinglv. 
 
 Exit. 
 
 Wor. There is no seeming mercy in the king. 
 
 Hot. Did you beor any ? God forbid ! 
 
 Wor. I told him gently of our grievances, 
 Of his oath-breaking ; which he mended thus, 
 Bv now forswearing that he is forsworn : 
 He calls us rebels, traitors ; and will scourge 
 With haughty arms this hateful name in us. 
 
 Re-enter Douglas. 
 Doug. Arm, gentlemen ; to arms ! for I have 
 
 thrown 
 
 A brave defiance in king Henry's teeth, 
 And Westmoreland, that was engag'd, did bear it ; 
 Which cannot choose but bring him quickly on. 
 Wor. The prince of Wales stepp'd forth before 
 
 the kin?, 
 And, nephew, challeng'd you to single Gght. 
 
 Hot. O, 'would the quarrel lay upon our heads ; 
 \nd that no man mieht draw short breath to-day, 
 But I, and Harry Monmouth ! Tell me, tell me, 
 How show'd his tasking? seemed it in contempt? 
 Ver. No, by soul ; I never in my life 
 
 (1) Painted heraldry in funerals. 
 
 (2) Recital. <fr Own. 
 
 Did hear a challenge urg'd more modestly, 
 
 Unless a brother should a brother dare 
 
 To gentle exercise and proof of arms. 
 
 He gave you all the duties of a man ; 
 
 Trimm'd up your praises with a princely tongue ; 
 
 Spoke your deservings like a chronicle ; 
 
 Making you ever better than his praise, 
 
 By still dispraising praise, valued with you : 
 
 And, which became him like a prince indeed, 
 
 He made a blushing cital 2 of himself; 
 
 And chid his truant youth with such a grace, 
 
 As if he master'd there a double spirit, 
 
 Of teaching, and of learning, instantly. 
 
 There did he pause : But let me tell the world, 
 
 If he outlhre the envy of this day, 
 
 England did never owe* so sweet a hope, 
 
 .So much misconstrued in his wantonness. 
 
 Hot. Cousin, I think, thou art enamour'd 
 Upon his follies ; never did I hear 
 Of any prince, so wild, at liberty : _ 
 But, be he as he will, yet once ere night 
 I will embrace him with a soldier's arm, 
 
 That he shall shrink tinder my courtesy. 
 
 Arm, arm, with speed : And, fellows, soldiers, 
 
 friends, 
 
 Better consider what you have to do, 
 Than I, that have not well the gift of tongue, 
 Can lift your blood up with persuasion. 
 
 Enter a Messenger. 
 
 Mess. My lord, here are letters for you. 
 
 Hot. I cannot read them now. 
 gentlemen, the time of life is short ; 
 To spend that shortness basely ? were too long, 
 If life did ride upon a dial's point, 
 Still ending at the arrival of an hour. 
 An if we live, we live to tread on kings ; 
 If die, brave death, when princes die with us ! 
 Now for our conscience, the arms are fair, 
 When the intent of bearing them is just. 
 
 Enter another Messenger. 
 
 Mess. My lord, prepare ; the king comes on apace. 
 
 Hot. I thank him, that he cuts me from my tale, 
 For I profess not talking ; Only this 
 Let each man do his best : and here draw I 
 A sword, whose temper I intend to stain 
 With the best blood that I can meet withal 
 In the adventure of this perilous day. 
 Now, Esperance !* Percy ! and set on. 
 Sound all the lofty instruments of war, 
 And by that music let us all embrace : 
 For, heaven to earth, some of us never shall 
 A second time do such a courtesy. 
 
 [The trumpets sauna 4 . They emoraee, 
 and exeunt.} 
 
 SCENE HI. Plain near Shrewsbury. Excur- 
 sions, and parties fighting. Jllarum to the bat* 
 tie. Then enter Douglas and Blunt, meeting-. 
 
 Blunt. What is thy name, that in the battle thus 
 Thou crossest me ? what honour dost thou seek 
 Upon my head ? 
 
 Doug. Know then, my name is Douglas ; 
 
 And Tdo haunt thee in the battle thus, . 
 Because some tell me- that thou art a king. 
 
 Blunt . They tell thee true. 
 
 Doug. The lord of Stafford dear to-day hath 
 | bought 
 
 Thy likeness ; for, instead of thee, king Harry, 
 This sword hath ended him : so shall it thee. 
 Unless thou yield thee as my prisoner. 
 
 (4) The motto of the Percy family.
 
 408 
 
 FIRST PART OF KING HENRY IV. 
 
 JtctV. 
 
 Blunt. I was not born a yielder, thou proud Scot ; 
 And thou shall find a king that will revenue 
 Lord Stafford's death. 
 
 [They fight, and Blunt is slain. 
 
 Enter Hotspur. 
 
 Hot. Douglas, hadst thou fought at Holme- 
 don thus, 
 I never had triumph'd upon a Scot. 
 
 Doug. All's done, all's won ; here breathless 
 lies the king. 
 
 Hot. Where ? 
 
 Doug. Here. 
 
 Hot. This, Douglas ? no, I know this face full 
 
 well : 
 
 A gallant knight he was, his name was Blunt ; 
 Semblably 1 furnish'd like the king himself. 
 
 Doug. A fool go with thy soul, whither it goes ! 
 A borrow'd title hast thou bought too dear. 
 Why didst thou tell me that thou wert a king? 
 
 Hot. The king hath many marching in his coats. 
 
 Doug. Now, by iny sword, 1 will kill all his coats ; 
 I'll murder all his wardrobe, piece by piece, 
 Until I meet the king. 
 
 Hot. Up, and away ; 
 
 Our soldiers stand full fairly for the day. [Exeunt. 
 
 Other alarums. Enter Falstaff. 
 
 Fal. Though I could 'scape shot-free at London, 
 I fear the shot here ; here's no scoring, but upon the 
 pafc. Soft! who art thou? Sir Walter Blunt: 
 there's honour for you: Here's no p vanity ! I am 
 as hot as molten lead, and as heavy too : God keep 
 lead out of me : I need no more weight than mine 
 own bowels. I have led my raggamuffins where 
 they are peppered : there's but three of my hundred 
 and fifty left alive ; and they are for the town's end, 
 to beg during life. But who comes here ? 
 Enter Prince Henry. 
 
 P. Hen. What, stand'st thou idle here ? lend me 
 
 thy sword : 
 
 Many a nobleman lies stark and stiff, 
 Under the hoofs of vaunting enemies, 
 Whose deaths are unreveng'd : Pr'ythee, lend thy 
 
 sword. 
 Fal. Hal, I pr'ythee, 
 
 jive me leave to breathe 
 
 a while. Turk Gregory never did such deeds in 
 arms, as I have done this day. I have paid Percy, 
 I have made him sure. 
 
 P. Hen. He is, indeed ; and living to kill thee. 
 Lend me thy sword, I pr'ythee. 
 
 Fal. Nay, before God, Hal, if Percy be alive, 
 
 fat. JNay, belore uod, mi, u ercy De alive, Of Shirly, Stafford, Blunt, are in my arms : 
 thou get'st not my sword ; but take my pistol, if It is the prince o f Wales, that threatens thee ; 
 
 thou wilt. 
 P. Hen. Give it me : What, is it in the case ? 
 
 Fal. Ay, Hal ; 
 sack a city. 
 
 'tis hot, 'tis hot ; there's that will 
 
 [The Prince draws out a bottle of sack. 
 P. Hen. What, is't a time to jest and dally now ? 
 I Throws it at him, and exit. 
 
 Fal. Well, if Percy be alive, I'll pierce him. If And Sn0 w'd, thou mak'st some tender of my life, 
 he do come in my way, so : if he do not, if I come "--- - s - 
 in his, willingly, let him make a carbonado 2 of me. 
 I like not such grinning honour as sir Walter hath : 
 Give me life : which if I can save, so ; if not, 
 
 honour comes unlocked for, and there's an end. 
 
 [Exit. 
 
 SCEJVE IV. Another part of the field. Alarums. 
 Excursions. Enter the King, Prince Henry, 
 Prince John, and Westmoreland. 
 K. Hen. I pr'ythee, 
 
 (1) In resemblance. 
 
 (2) A piece of meat cut crosswise for the gridiron. 
 
 Harry, withdraw thyself; thou bleed'st too much : 
 Lord John of Lancaster, go you with him. 
 
 P. John. Not I, my lord, unless I did bleed too. 
 
 P. Hen. I do beseech your majesty, make up, 
 Lest your retirement do amaze your friends. 
 
 K. Hen. I will do so : 
 My lord of Westmoreland, lead him 1o his tent. 
 
 West. Come, my lord, I will lead you to your tent 
 
 P. Hen. Lead me, my lord ? I do not need your 
 
 help : 
 
 And heaven forbid, a shallow scratch should drive 
 The prince of Wales from such a field as this ; 
 Where stain'd nobility lies trodden on, 
 And rebels' arms triumph in massacres ! 
 
 P. John. We breathe too long : Come, cousin 
 
 We_stmorcland, 
 Our duty this way lies ; for God's sake, come. 
 
 [Exeunt Prince John and Westmoreland. 
 
 P. Hen. By heaven, thou hast deceiv'd me, 
 
 Lancaster, 
 
 I did not think thee lord of such a spirit : 
 Before, I lov'd thee as a brother, John ; 
 But now, I do respect thee as my soul. 
 
 K. Hen. I saw him hold lord Piercy at the point, 
 With lustier maintenance than I did look for 
 
 Of such an uncrown warrior. 
 
 P. Hen. 
 Lends mettle to us all ! 
 
 0, this boy 
 
 [Exit. 
 
 Marums. Enter Douglas. 
 
 Doug. Another king ! they grow like Hydra's 
 
 heads : 
 
 I am the Douglas, fatal to all those 
 That wear those colours on them. What art thou. 
 That counterfeit'st the person of a king ? 
 K. Hen. The king himself; who, Douglas, grieves 
 
 at heart, 
 
 So many of his shadows thou hast met, 
 And not the very king. I have two boys, 
 Seek Percy, and thyself, about the field : 
 But, seeing thou fail'st on me so luckily, 
 I will assay thee ; so defend thyself. 
 
 Doug. I fear, thou art another counterfeit ; 
 And yet, in faith, thou bear'st thee like a king : 
 But mine, I am sure thou art, whoe'er thou be, 
 And thus I win thee. 
 
 [They fight ; the King being in danger, 
 
 enter Prince Henry. 
 P. Hen. Hold up thy head, vile Scot, or thou 
 
 art like 
 
 Never to hold it up again ! the spirits 
 Ot'Shirlv. Stafford. Blunt, arp. in mv a 
 
 Who never promiseth, but he means to pay. 
 
 [They fight; Douglasses. 
 Cheerly, my lord ; How fares your grace ? 
 Sir Nicholas Gawsey hath for succour sent, 
 And so hath Clifton : I'll to Clifton straight. 
 
 K. Hen. Stay, and breathe awhile : 
 Thou hast redeem'd thy lost opinion ; 3 
 
 In this fair rescue thou has brought to me. 
 
 P. Hen. O heaven ! they did me too much in 
 
 jury, 
 
 That ever said, I hearken'd for your death. 
 If it were so, I might have let alone 
 The insulting hand of Douglas over you , 
 Which would have been as speedy in your end, 
 As all the poisonous potions in the world, 
 And sav'd the treacherous labour of your son. 
 
 K. Hen. Make up to Clifton, I'll to sir Nicholas 
 Gawsey. [Exit King Henry 
 
 (3) Reputation.
 
 Scene V. 
 
 FIRST PART OF KING HENRY IV. 
 
 400 
 
 Enter Hotspur. 
 
 Hot. If I mistake not. thou art Harry Monmouth. 
 
 P. Hen, Thou speak'st as if I would deny my 
 name. 
 
 Hot. My name is Harry Percy. 
 
 P. Hen. Why, then I see 
 
 A very valiant rebel of the name. 
 I am the prince of Wales ; and think not, Percy, 
 To share with me in glory any more : 
 Two stars keep not their motion in one sphere; 
 Nor can one England brook a double reign, 
 Of Harry Percy, and the prince of Wales. 
 
 Hot. Nor shall it, Harry, for the hour is come 
 To end the one of us ; And 'would to God, 
 Thy name in arms were now as great as mine ! 
 
 P. Hen. I'll make it greater, ere I part from thee ; 
 And all the budding honours on thy crest 
 I'll crop, to make a garland for my head. 
 
 Hot. I can no longer brook thy vanities. 
 
 [They feM. 
 Enter Falstaff. 
 
 Fal. Well said, Hal ! to it, Hal ! Nay, you shall 
 find no boy's play here, I can tell you. 
 
 Enter Douglas ; he fights with Falstaff, re ho falls 
 
 down as if he were dead, and exit Douglas. Hofe 
 
 spur is wounded, and falls. 
 
 Hot. O, Harry, thou hast robb'd me of my youth : 
 I better brook the loss of brittle life, 
 Than those proud titles thou hast won of me ; 
 They wound my thoughts, worse than thy sword 
 
 my flesh : 
 
 But thought's the slave of life, and life time's fool ; 
 And time, that takes survey of all the world, 
 Must have a stop. O, I could prophesy, 
 But that the earthy and cold hand of death 
 Lies on my tongue : No, Percy, thou art dust, 
 And food for [Dies. 
 
 P. Hen. For worms, brave Percy: Fare thee 
 
 well, arreat heart ! 
 
 Ill-weav'd ambition, how much art thou shrunk ! 
 When that this body did contain a spirit, 
 A kingdom for it was too small a bound ; 
 But now, two paces of the vilest earth 
 Is room enough : This earth, that bears thee dead, 
 Bears not alive so stout a gentleman. 
 If thou wert sensible of courtesy, 
 I should not make so dear a show of zeal : 
 But let my favours 1 hide thy mangled face ; 
 And, even in thy behalf, I'll thank myself 
 For doing these fair rites of tenderness* 
 Adieu, and take thy praise with thee to heaven! 
 Thy ignominy sleep with thee in the grave, 
 But not remember'd in thy epitaph ! 
 
 [He sees Falstaff on the ground. 
 What ! old acquaintance ! could not all this flesh 
 Keep in a little life ? Poor Jack, farewell ! 
 I could have better spar'd a better man. 
 O, I should have a heavy miss of thee, 
 If I were much in love with vanity. 
 Death hath not struck so fat a deer to-day, 
 Though many dearer, in this bloody fray : 
 Etnbowell'd will I see Ihee by and by ; 
 Till then, in blood by noble Percy lie. [Exit. 
 
 Fal. [Rising slowly.] Embowell'd ! If thou em- 
 bowel me to-day, I'll give you leave to poivdcr 2 me, 
 and eat me too, to-morrow. 'Sblood, 'twas time 
 to counterfeit, or that hot termasrant Scot had paid 
 me scot and lot too. Counterfeit ? I lie, I am no 
 counterfeit : To die, is to be a counterfeit ; for he 
 is but the counterfeit of a man, who hath net the 
 
 (1) Scarf with which he covers Percy's face. 
 
 life of a man : but to counterfeit dying, when a 
 man thereby liveth, is to be no counterfeit, but the 
 true and perfect image of life indeed. The better 
 part of valour is discretion : in the which better 
 part, I have saved my life. Zounds, I am afraid 
 of this gunpowder Percy, though he be dead : 
 How, if he should counterfeit too, and rise? I am 
 afraid he would prove the better counterfeit. There- 
 fore I'll make him sure : yea, and I'll swear I kill- 
 ed him. Why may not he rise, as well as I ? 
 Nothing confutes me but eyes, and nobody sees 
 me. Therefore, sirrah, [Slabbing him.] with a new 
 wound in your thigh, come you- along with me. 
 
 [Takes Hotspur on his back. 
 Re-enter Prince Henry and Prince John. 
 
 P. Hen. Come, brother John, full bravely hast 
 
 thou flesh'd 
 Thy maiden sword. ^, 
 
 P. John. But soft ! whom have we here ? 
 
 Did you not tell me, this i'at man was dead ? 
 
 P. Hen. I did ; I saw him dead, breathless and 
 bleeding 
 
 Upon the ground. 
 
 A rt ihou alive ? or is it phantasy 
 That plays upon our eye-sight ? I pr'ythce, speak ; 
 We will not trust our eyes, without our ears : 
 Thou art not what thou seem'st. 
 
 Fal. No, that's certain ; I am not a double man : 
 but if I be not Jack FalstafF, then am I a Jack. 
 There is Percy: [Throwing the body down.] if 
 your father will do me any honour, so ; if not, let 
 him kill the next Percy himself. I look to be either 
 earl or duke, I can assure you. 
 
 P. Hen. Why, Percy I killed myself, and saw 
 thee dead. 
 
 Fal. Didst thou ? Lord, lord, how this world is 
 given to lying ! I grant you, I was down, and out 
 of breath ; and so was he : but we rose both at an 
 instant, and fought a long hour by Shrewsbury 
 clock. If I may be believed, so ; if not, let them, 
 that should reward valour, bear the sin upon their 
 own heads. I'll take it upon my death, I gave 
 him this wound in the thigh : if the man were 
 alive, and would deny it, I would make him eat a 
 piece of my sword. 
 
 P. John. This is the strangest tale that e'er I 
 heard. 
 
 P. Hen. This is the strangest fellow, brother 
 
 John. 
 
 Come, bring vour luggage nobly on your back: 
 For my part, if a lie may do thee grace, 
 I'll gild it with the happiest terms I have. 
 
 [/3 retreat is sounded. 
 
 The trumpet sounds retreat, the day is ours. 
 Come, brother, let's to the highest of the field, 
 To see what friends are living, who are dead. 
 
 [Exeunt Prince Henry and Prince John. 
 
 Fal. I'll follow, as they say, for reward. Ho 
 that rewards me, God reward him ! If I do grow 
 great, I'll grow less ; for I'll purge, and leave sack, 
 and live cleanly, as a nobleman should do. 
 
 [Exit, bearing off the body. 
 
 SCEJVE V. Another part^ of the field. The 
 trumpets sound. Enter King Henry, Prince 
 Henry, Prince John, Westmoreland, and others; 
 with Worcester, and Vernon, prisoners. 
 
 K. Hen. Thus ever did rebellion find rebuke. 
 Ill-spirited Worcester ! did we not send grace, 
 Pardon, and terms of love to all of you? 
 And would'st thou turn our offers contrary? 
 
 (2) Salt. 
 SF
 
 41C 
 
 FIRST 1 AKT OF KING HENRY IV. 
 
 r. 
 
 Misuse the tenor of thy kinsman's trust ? 
 Three knights upon our party slain to day, 
 A noble earl ? and many a creature else, 
 Had been alive this hour, 
 If, like a Christian, thou hadst truly borne 
 Betwixt our armies true intelligence. 
 
 War. What I have done, my safety urg'd me to ; 
 And I embrace this fortune patiently, 
 Since not to be avoided it falls on me. 
 
 K. Hen. Bear Worcester to the death, and Ver- 
 
 non too: 
 Other offenders we will pause upon. 
 
 [Exeunt Worcester and Vernon, guarded. 
 How goes the field ? 
 
 P. Hen. The noble Scot, lord Douglas, when 
 
 he saw 
 
 The fortune of the day quite turn'd from him, 
 The noble Percy slain, and all his men 
 Upon the foot of fear, fled with the rest : 
 And, falling from a hill, he was so bruis'd, 
 That the pursuers took him. At my tent 
 The Douglas is and I beseech your grace, 
 I may dispose 01 him. 
 
 K. Hen. With all my heart. 
 
 P. Hen. Then, brother John of Lancaster, to 
 
 you 
 
 This honourable bounty shall belong : 
 Go to the Douglas, and deliver him 
 Up to his pleasure, ransomless, and free : 
 His valour shown upon our crests to-day, 
 Hath taught us how to cherish such high deeds, 
 Even in the bosom of our adversaries. 
 K. Hen. Then this remains, that we divide 
 
 our power. 
 
 You, son John, and my cousin Westmoreland, 
 Towards York shall bend you, with vour dearest 
 
 speed, 
 
 To meet Northumberland ? and the prelate Scroop 
 Who, as we hear, arc busily in arms : 
 Myself, and you, son Harry, will towards Wales 
 To fight with Glendower, and the earl of March. 
 Rebellion in this land shall lose his sway, 
 Meeting the check of such another day : 
 And since this business so fair is done, 
 Let us not leave till all our own be won.
 
 

 
 KING HENRY IV. PART II. 
 Act V. Scene 5. 
 
 KING HENRY V. 
 Act JIL Scene 3.
 
 ( 411 ) 
 
 SECOND PART OF 
 
 KING HENRY IV. 
 
 PERSONS REPRESENTED. 
 
 King Henry the Fourth. 
 
 Henry, prmre of Wales, afterwards} 
 
 Ivin^ Henry V. ; 
 Thomas, duke oj Clarence ; 
 Prince John of Lancaster, afterwards } his sons. 
 
 (2 Henry V.) duke of Bedford; 
 Prince Humphrey ofGloster, ajtenoards \ 
 
 (2 Henry V. ) duke of Gloster ; ) 
 Earl of Warwick; ) 
 
 Earl of Westmoreland ; > of the king's party. 
 Gowcr : Harcourt ; ) 
 Lord Chief Justice of the King's Bench. 
 A Gentleman attending on the Chief Justice. 
 Earl of Northumberland ; 1 
 
 Scroop, archbishop of York ; f enemies to 
 
 Lord Mowbray ; Lord Hastings ; j the Icing. 
 Lord Bardolph ; Sir John Coleville; J 
 
 Travers and Morton, domestics of Northumberland. 
 
 Falstaff, Bardolph, Pistol, and Page. 
 
 Poins and Peto, attendants on Prince Henry. 
 
 Shallow and Silence, country Justices. 
 
 Davy, servant to Shallow. 
 
 Mouldy, Shadow, Wart, Feeble, and Bullcalf, re- 
 
 cruits. 
 
 Fang and Snare, shcriff't tffictrs. 
 Rumour. A Porter. 
 A Dancer, speaker of the Epilogue. 
 
 Lady Northumberland. Lady Percy. 
 Hostess Quickly. Doll Tear-sheet. 
 
 Lords and other attendants ; officers, soldiers, mes- 
 senger, drawers, beadles, grooms, SfC. 
 
 Scene, England. 
 
 INDUCTION. 
 
 Warkworth. Before Northumberland's castle. 
 Enter Rumour, painted full of tongues. 
 
 Rum. Open your ears ; For which of you will 
 
 stop 
 
 The vent of hearing, when loud Rumour speaks ? 
 I, from the orient to the drooping west, 
 Making the wind my post-horse, still unfold 
 The acts commenced on this ball of earth : 
 Upon my tongues continual slanders ride ; 
 The which in every language I pronounce, 
 Bluffing the ears of men with false reports. 
 ( speak of peace, while covert enmity, 
 Under the smile of safety, wounds the world : 
 And who but Rumour, who but only I, 
 Make fearful musters, and prepar'd defence ; 
 Whilst the big year, swoll'n with some other grief, 
 Is thought with child by the stern tyrant war, 
 And no such matter ? Rumour is a pipe 
 Blown by surmises, jealousies, conjectures ; 
 And of so easy and so plain a stop, 
 That the blunt monster with uncounted heads, 
 The still-discordant wavering multitude, 
 Can play upon it. But what need I thus 
 My well-known body to anatomize 
 Among my household ? Why is Rumour here ? 
 I run before king Harry's victory ; 
 Who, in a bloody field by Shrewsbury, 
 Hath beaten down young Hotspur, and his troops, 
 Quenching the flame of bold rebellion 
 Even with the rebel's blood. But what mean I 
 To speak so true at first? my office is 
 To noise abroad, that Harry Monmouth fell 
 Under the wrath of noble Hotspur's sword ; 
 And that the king before the Douglas' rap 
 Stoop'd his anointed head as low as death. 
 
 (1) Northumberland's castle. 
 
 This have I rumour'd through the peasant towns 
 Between that royal field of Shrewsbury 
 And this worm-eaten hold of ragged stone, 1 
 Where Hotspur's father, old Northumberland, 
 Lies crafty-sick : the posts come tiring on, 
 And not a man of them brings other news 
 Than they have learn'd of me ; From Rumour's 
 
 tongues 
 They bring smooth comforts false, worse than true 
 
 wrongs. [Exit. 
 
 ACT I. 
 
 SCENE I. The same. The Porter before tfii 
 gate ; Enter Lord Bardolph. 
 
 Bard. Who keeps the gate here, ho ? Where is 
 
 the earl ? 
 
 Port. What .shall I say you are ? 
 Bard. Tell thou the earl, 
 
 That the lord Bardolph doth attend him here. 
 Port. His lordship is walk'd forth into the or- 
 chard ; 
 
 Please it your honour, knock but at the gate, 
 And he himself will answer. 
 
 Enter Northumberland. 
 
 Bard. Here comes the earl. 
 
 North. What news, lord Bardolph ? every minute 
 
 now 
 
 Should be the father of some stratagem :* 
 The times are wild ; contention, like a horse 
 Full of high feeding, madly hath broke loose, 
 And bears down afl before him. 
 
 Bard. Noble earl, 
 
 I bring you certain news from Shrewsbury. 
 
 North. Good, an heaven will ! 
 
 Bard. As good as heart can wish :-* 
 
 The king is almost wounded to the death ; 
 
 (2) Important or dreadful event.
 
 412 
 
 SECOND PART OF KING HENRY IV. 
 
 Acll. 
 
 And, in the fortune of my lord your son, 
 Prince Harry slain outright ; and both the Blunts 
 Kill'd by the hand of Douglas : young prince John, 
 And Westmoreland, and Stafford, flea the field ; 
 And Harry Monmouth's brawn, the hulk sir John, 
 Is prisoner to your sou : O, sucn a day, 
 So fought, so ibllow'd, and so fairly won, 
 Came not, till now, to dignify the limes, 
 Since Caesar's fortunes ! 
 
 North. How is this deriv'd ? 
 
 Saw you the field ? came you from Shrewsbury ? 
 
 Bard. 1 spake with one, my lord, that came from 
 
 thence ; 
 
 A gentleman v/ell bred, and of good name, 
 That freely render'd me these news for true. 
 
 North. Here comes my servant, Travers, whom 
 
 I sent 
 On Tuesday last to listen afler news. 
 
 Bard. My lord, I over-rode him on the way; 
 And he is furnish'd with no certainties, 
 More than he haply may 'retain from me. 
 
 Enter Travers. 
 
 North. Now, Travers, what good tidings come 
 with you ? 
 
 Tra. My lord, sir John TJmfrevile turn'd me back 
 With joyful tidings; ai:d, being better hors'd, 
 Out-rode me. After him, came, spurring hard, 
 | A gentleman almost forspent 1 with speed^ 
 That stopp'd by me to breathe his bloodied horse : 
 He ask'u the way to Chester ; and of him 
 I did demand, what news from Shrewsbury. 
 He told me, that rebellion had bad luck, 
 And that your.g Harry Percy's spur was cold: 
 With that, he gave his able horse the head, 
 And, bending forward, struck his armed heels 
 Against the panting sides of his poor jade 
 Up to the rowel-head ; and, starting so, 
 He seem'd in running to devour the way, 
 Staying no longer question. 
 
 Jwtm Ha ! Again. 
 
 Suid he, young Harry Percy's spur was cold? 
 Of Hotspur, coklspur ? that rebellion 
 Had met ill luck ? 
 
 Bard. My lord, I'll tell you what ; 
 
 If my youns lord your son has not the day, 
 Upon mine honour, for a silken point 2 
 I'll give my barony : never talk of it. 
 
 North. Why should the gentleman, that rode by 
 
 Travers, 
 Give then such instances of loss? 
 
 Bard. Who, he ? 
 
 He was some hilding 3 fellow, that had stol'n 
 The horse he rode on ; and, upon my life, 
 Spoke at a venture. Look, here comes more news. 
 
 Enttr Morion. 
 
 North. Yea, this man's brow, like to a title-leaf, 
 Foretells the nature of a tragic volume: 
 So looks the strond, whereon the imperious flood 
 
 I lath left a witncss'd usurpation." 
 
 Say, Morton, didst thou come from Shrewsbury? 
 
 jtfbr. I ran from Shrewsbury, my noble lord ; 
 Where hateful death put on his ugliest mask, 
 To fright our party. 
 
 North. How doth my son, and brother? 
 
 Thou trcmblest ; and the whiteness in thy cheek 
 Is apter than thy tonuue to tell thy errand. 
 Even such a man, so faint, so spiritless, 
 So dull, so dead iu look, so wo-begone, 
 
 (1) Exhausted. (2) Lace tagged. 
 
 (3) Hilderling, base, cowardly. 
 
 (4) An attestation of its ravage. 
 
 Drew Priam's curtain in the dead of night, 
 And would have told him, half his Troy was burn'd : 
 But Priam found the fire, ere he his tongue, 
 And I my Percy's death, ere thou report'st it. 
 This thou wouldst say, Your son did thus, and 
 
 thus ; 
 
 Your brother, thus ; so fought the noble Douglas ; 
 Stopping my greedy ear with their bold deeds ; 
 But in the end, to stop mine ear indeed, 
 Thou hast a sigh to blow away this praise, 
 Ending with brother, son, and all, are dead. 
 
 JV/or. Douglas is living, and your brother, yet; 
 But, for my lord your son, 
 
 North. Vt'hy, he is dead. 
 
 See, what a ready tongue suspicion hath ! 
 He, that but fears the thing he would not know, 
 Hath, by instinct, knowledge from others' eyes, 
 That whathe fear'd is chanced. Yet speak, Morton j 
 Tell thou thy earl, his divination lies ; 
 And I will take it as a sweet disgrace, 
 And make thee rich for doing me such wrong 1 . 
 
 J\lor. You are too great to be by me gainsaid : 
 r our spirit is too true, your fears too certain. 
 
 North. Yet, for all this, say not that Percy's dead. 
 I see a strange confession in thine eye : 
 Thou shak'st thy head, and hold'st it fear, or sin, 
 To speak a truth. If he be slain, say so : 
 The tongu<? offends not, that reports his death : 
 And hejdoth sin, that doth belie the dead ; 
 Not he, which says the dead is not alive. 
 Yet the first brincer of unwelcome news 
 Hath but a losing office ; and his tongue 
 Sounds ever after as a sullen bell, 
 Rcmember'd knolling a departed friend. 
 
 Bard. I cannot think, mv lord, your son is dead. 
 
 Mor. I am sorry. I should force you to believe 
 That, which I would to heaven I had not seen : 
 But these mine eyes saw-hirn in bloody state, 
 Rend'ringfiiintquittance, 6 wearied and outbrealh'd, 
 To Harry Monmouth : whose swift wrath bcatdown 
 The never-daunted Percy to the earth, 
 From whence with life he never more sprung up. 
 In few, e his death (whose spirit lent a fire 
 Even to the dullest peasant in his camp,) 
 Being bruited" once, took fire and heat away 
 From the best temper'd courage in his troops : 
 For from his metal was his party steel'd ; 
 Which once in him abated, all the rest 
 Turn'd on themselves, like dull and heavy lead. 
 And as the thing that's heavy in itself, 
 Upon enforcement, flies with greatest speed ; 
 So did our men, heavy in Hotspur's loss, 
 Lend to this weight such lightness with their fear, 
 That arrows fled not swifter toward their aim, 
 Than did our soldiers, aiming at their safety, 
 Fly from the field : Then was that noble Worcester 
 Too soon ta'en prisoner : and that furious Scot, 
 The bloody Douglas, whose well-labouring sword 
 Had three times slain (he appearance of '.he king, 
 'Gaii vail 3 his stomach, and did grace the shame 
 Of those that turn'd their backs ; and, in his (light, 
 Stumbling in fear, was took. The sum of all 
 Is, that the king ha!h won ; and hath sent out 
 A speedy power to encounter you, my lord, 
 Under the conduct of young Lancaster, 
 And Westmoreland : this is the news in full. 
 
 North. For this I shall have time enough to mourn. 
 In poison there is physic ; and these news, 
 Having been well, that would have made me sick, 
 Being sick, have in some measure made me well : 
 And as the wretch, whose fever- weaken'd joints, 
 
 (5) Return of blows. 
 (7) Reported. 
 
 (6) In few words. 
 (8) Let fall.
 
 Scene II. 
 
 SECOND PART OF KING HENRY IV. 
 
 413 
 
 Like strengthless hinges, buckle under life 
 Impatient of his fit, breaks like a tire 
 Out of his keeper's arms ; even so my limbs, 
 Weaken'd with grief, being now cnrag'd with grief, 
 Are thrice themselves ; hence therefore, thou nice 1 
 
 crutch ; 
 
 A scaly gauntlet now, with joints of steel, 
 Must glove this hand : and hence, thou sickly quoif; 2 
 Thou art a guard too wanton lor the head, 
 Which princes, flesh'd with conquest, aim to hit. 
 Now bind my brows with iron ; and approach 
 The ragged'st hour that time and spite dare bring, 
 To frown upon the enrag'd Northumberland ! 
 Let heaven kiss earth ! Now let not nature's hand 
 Keep the wild flood confin'd ! let order die ! 
 And let this world no loncrer be a stage, 
 To feed contention in a lingering act 
 But let one spirit of the first-born Cam 
 Reign in all bosoms, that, each heart being set 
 On bloody courses, the rude scene may end, 
 And darkness be the burier of the dead ! 
 
 Tra. This strained passion doth you wrong, my 
 lord. 
 
 Lard. Sweet earl, divorce not wisdom from your 
 honour. 
 
 Mar. The lives of all your loving complices f 
 Lean on your health ; the which, if you give o'e^r 
 To stormy passion, must perforce decay. 
 You cast the event of war, my noble lord, 
 And summ'd the account of chance, before you 
 
 said, 
 
 Let us make head. It was your presurmise, 
 That in the dole 3 of blows your son might drop: 
 You knew, he walk'd o'er perils, on an edge, 
 More likely to fill in, than to get o'er : 
 You were advis'd, his fie.-!; was capable 
 Of wounds, and scars ; and that his forward spirits 
 Would lift him where most trade of danger rang'd ; 
 Yet did you say, Go forth ; and none of this, 
 Though strongly apprehended, could restrain 
 The stiff-borne action : Wh.it hath then befalle'n, 
 Or what hath this bold enterprise brought forth, 
 More than that beinir which was like to be 1 
 
 Bard. We all, that are engaged to this loss, 
 Knew that we ventur'd on such dangerous seas, 
 That, if we wrought out life, 'twas ten to one : 
 And yet we ventur'd, for the gain propos'd 
 Chok'd the respect of likely peril fear'd ; 
 And, since we are o'erset, venture again. 
 Come, we will all put forth ; body, and goods. 
 
 Jtfor. 'Tis more than time : And, my most noble 
 
 lord, 
 
 I hear for certain, and do sneak the truth, -- 
 The gentle archbishop of York is up, 
 With well-appointed powers ; J he is a man, 
 Who with a double suretv binds his followers. 
 My lord your son had only but the corps, 
 But shadows, and the shows of rnen, to light: 
 For that same word, rebellion, did divide 
 The action of their bodies from their souls ; 
 And they did fight with queasiness, 5 constrain'd, 
 As men drink potions : that iheir weapons only 
 Seem'd on our side, but, for their spirits and souls, 
 This word, rebellion, it had froze them up, 
 As fish are in a pond : But now the bishop 
 Turns insurrection to religion : 
 Suppos'd sincere and holy in his thoughts, 
 He's follow'd both with body and with mind ; 
 And doth enlarge his risine with the blood 
 Of fair king Richard, scrap'd from Pomfret stones ; 
 
 Derives from heaven his quarrel, and his cause : 
 Tells them, he doth bestride a bleeding land, 
 Gasping for life under great Bolingbroke ; 
 And more,* and less, do flock to follow him. 
 I Jforth. I knew of this before ; but, to speak truth, 
 This present grief had wip'd it from my mind. 
 Go in with me ; and counsel every man 
 The aptest way for safety, and revenge : 
 Get posts, and letters, and make friends with speed : 
 Never so few, and never yet more need. [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE //.London. Jl street. Enttr Sir John 
 Falstaff, with his Page bearing his sword and 
 buckler. 
 
 Fal. Sirrah, you giant, what says the doctor to 
 my water ? 
 
 Page. He said, sir, the water itself was a good 
 healthy water: but, for the party that owed' it, he 
 might have more disease^ban he knew lor. 
 
 Fal. Men of all sortjgpce a pride to eird* at me ; 
 The brain of this foolish-compounded clay, man, is 
 not able to vent any thing that tends to 'laughter, 
 more than I invent, or is invented on me : I am not 
 only qftty in myself, but the cause that wit is in 
 other men. I do here walk before thee, like a sow, 
 that hath o'erwhelmed all her litter but one. If the 
 prince put thee into my service for any other reason 
 than to set me off, why then I have no judgment. 
 Thou whoreson mandrake, 9 thou art fitter to be 
 worn in my cap, than to wait at my heels. I was 
 never manned with an agate 10 till now : but I will 
 set you neither in gold nor silver, but in vile appa- 
 rel, r.nd send you back again to your master, for a 
 jewel ; the Juvenal, the prince your master, whose 
 chin is not yet fledged. I will sooner have a beard 
 
 (2) Cap. (3) Distribution. 
 (5) A 
 
 (1) Trifling. 
 
 (4) Forces^ (5) Against their stomachs. 
 
 (6) Greater. (7) Owned. (8) Gibe. 
 
 will, it is not a hair a,miss yet: he may keep it still 
 as a face-royal, for a barber shall never earn six- 
 pence out of it ; and yet he will be crowing, as if 
 he had writ man ever since his father was a oache- 
 lor. He may keep his own grace, but he is almost 
 
 out of mine, I can assure him. What said 
 
 master Dumbleton about the satin, for my short 
 clock, and slops ? 
 
 Page. He said, sir, you should procure him bet- 
 ter assurance than Bardolph : he would not take 
 his bond and yours ; he liked not the security. 
 
 Fal. Let him be damned like a clutt.cn ! may 
 his tongue be hotter ! A whoreson Achitophel ! a 
 rascally yea-forsooth knave! to bear a gentleman 
 in hand, and then stand upon security ! The whore- 
 son smooth-pates' do now wear nothing but hiirh 
 shoes, and bunches of keys at their girdles ; and if 
 a man is thorough" with them in honest taking up, 
 
 then they must stand upon security. I had as 
 
 lief they would put ratsbane in my mouth, ns offer 
 to stop 'it with security. I looked he should have 
 sent me two and twenty yards of satin, as I am a 
 true knight, and he sends me security. Well, he 
 may sleep in security; for he hath "the horn of 
 abundance, and the lightness of his wife shines 
 through it: and yet cannot he see, though he 
 
 have his own lantern to light him. Where's 
 
 Bardolph? 
 
 Pat*e. He's gone into Smithfield, to buy your 
 worship a hor.=e. 
 
 Fal. I boutrht him in Paul's, and he'll buy me & 
 horse in Smithfield : an I could get me but a wife 
 
 (9) A root supposed to have the shape of a man. 
 
 (10) A little figure cut in an agate. 
 
 (11) In their debt.
 
 414 
 
 SECOND PART OF KING HENRY IV. 
 
 SctL 
 
 in the stews, I were manned, horsed, and wived. 1 
 Enter the Lord Chief Justice, and an attendant. 
 
 Page. Sir, here come* the nobleman that com- 
 mitted the prince for striking him about Bardolph. 
 
 Fal. Wait close ; I will not see him. 
 
 Ch. Just. What's he that goes there ? 
 
 Atttn. Falstaff, an't please your lordship. 
 
 Ch. Just. He that was in question for the robbery ? 
 
 Atttn. He, mv lord : but he hath since done 
 good service at Shrewsbury ; and, as I hear, is 
 
 now going with some charge to the lord John of how I should be your patient to follow your pre 
 Lancaster. scriptions, the wise may make some dram of a 
 
 Ch. Just. What, to York ? Call him back again. 
 
 Atten. Sir John Falstaff! 
 
 Fal. Boy, tell him, I am deaf. 
 
 Page. 1 ou must speak louder, my master is deaf. 
 
 Ch. Just. I am sure, he is, to the hearing of any 
 thing good. Go, pluck him by the elbow ; I must 
 speak with him. 
 
 Atten. Sir John, 
 
 Fal. What ! a young knave, and beg ! Is there 
 not wars? is there not employment? Doth not the 
 king lack subjects? do not the rebels need sol- 
 diers ? Though it be a shame to be on any side 
 but one. it is worse shame to beer than to be on the 
 worst side, were it worse than the name of rebel- 
 lion can tell how to make it. 
 You mistake me, sir. 
 
 Fal. Why, sir, did I say you were an honest 
 man ? setting my knighthood and my soldiership 
 aside, I had lied in toy throat if I had snid so. 
 
 sltlen. I pray you, sir ? then set your kniuhthood 
 and your soldiership aside ; and give me leave to 
 tell you, you lie in your throat, if you say I am any 
 other than an honest man. 
 
 Fal. I give thee leave to tell rne so ! I lay aside 
 that which grows to me ! If thou gett'st any leave 
 of me, hang me ; if thou takest leave, thou werl 
 better be hanged : You hunt-counter, 2 hence ! 
 avaunt ! 
 
 Alien. Sir, my lord would speak with you. 
 
 Ch. Jtist. Sir John Falstaft", a word with you. 
 
 Fal. My good lord ! God give your lordship 
 good time of day. I am glad to see your lordship 
 abroad : I heard say, your lordship was sick : 1 
 hope your lordship goes abroad by advice. Your 
 lordship, though not clean past your youth, hath 
 yet some smack of are in you, some relish of the 
 saltness of time ; and I most humbly beseech your 
 lordship, to have a reverend care of your hpalth. 
 
 Ch. Just. Sir John, I sent for you before your 
 expedition to Shrewsbury. 
 
 Fal. An't please your lordship, I hear, his ma- 
 jesty is returned with some discomfort from Wales. 
 
 Ch. Just. I talk not of his majesty: You would 
 not come when I sent for you. 
 
 Fal. And I hear moreover, his highness is fallen 
 into this same whoreson apoplexy. 
 
 Ch. Just. Well, heaven mend him ! I pray, let 
 me speak with you. 
 
 lethargv, an't please your lordship ; a kind of sleep- 
 ing in the blood, a whoreson tingling. 
 
 Ch. Just. What tell you me of it? be it as it is. 
 
 Fal. It hath its original from much grief; from 
 study, and perturbation of the brain : I have read 
 
 .. ' _ t* i_ ' _ir__A_ :_ /_ i i _ i '_j _r 
 
 Ch. Just. I think, you arc fallen into the dis- 
 ease ; for you hear not what I say to you. 
 
 Fal. Very well, my lord, very well : rather, an't 
 please you, it is the disease of not listening, the 
 malady of not marking, that I am troubled withal. 
 
 Ch. Just. To punish you by the heels, would 
 amend the attention of your ears ; and I care nol, 
 if I become your physician. 
 
 Fal. I am as poor as Job, my lord ; but not so 
 patient : your lordship may minister the potion of 
 imprisonment to me, in respect of poverty ; but 
 
 scruple, or, indeed, a scruple itself. 
 
 Ch. Just. I sent for you, when there were mat- 
 ters against you for your life, to come speak with 
 
 e. 
 
 Fal. As I was then advised by my learned coun 
 sel in the laws of this land-service, I did not come. 
 
 Ch. Just. Well, the truth is, sir John, you live 
 in great infamy. 
 
 Fal. He that buckles him in my belt, cannot 
 live in less. 
 
 Ch. Just. Your means are very slender, and 
 jfour waste is great. 
 
 Fal. I would it were otherwise ; I would my 
 means were greater, and my waist slenderer. 
 
 Ch. Just. You have misled the youthful prince. 
 
 Fal. The young prince hath m'isled me : I am 
 the fellow with the great belly, and he my dog. 
 
 Ch. Just. Weil, I am loath to gall a new-healed 
 wound ; your day's service at Shrewsbury hath a 
 little gilded over your night's exploit on Gads-hill . 
 you may thank the unquiet time for your quiet o'er- 
 posting that action. 
 
 Fal. My lord ? 
 
 Ch. Just. But since all is well, keep it so : wake 
 not a sleeping wolf. 
 
 Fal. To wake a wolf, is as bad as to smell a fox. 
 
 Ch. Just. What! you are as a candle, the bel- 
 ter part burnt out. 
 
 Fal. A wassel 3 candle, my lord ; all tallow : if 
 I did say of wax, my growth would approve the 
 truth. 
 
 Ch.Juat. There is pot a white hair on your face, 
 but should have his effect of gravity. 
 
 Fal. His effect of gravy, gravy, gravy. 
 
 Ch. Just. You folloAv the young prince up and 
 down, like his ill angel. 
 
 Fal. Not so, my lord ; your ill angel* is light; 
 but, I hope, he that looks upon me, will take me 
 without weighing: and yet, in some respects, I 
 errant, I cannot go, I cannct tell : 5 Virtue is of so 
 little regard in these coster-monger times, that true 
 valour is turned bear-herd : Pregnancy is made a 
 tapster, and hath his quick wit wasted in giving 
 reckonings : all the other gifts appertinent to man, 
 as the malice of this age shapes them, are not 
 worth a gooseberry. You, that are old, consider 
 not the capacities of us that are young : you 
 measure the heat of our livers with the bitterness of 
 
 Fal. This apoplexy is, as I take it, a kind of your galls: and we that are in the vaward' of our 
 
 youth, I must, confess, are wags too. 
 
 Ch. Jusl. Do you set down your name in the 
 scroll of youth, that are written down old with all 
 the characters of age ? Have you not a moist eye? 
 a dry hand ? a yellow cheek ? a white beard ? 
 
 s, ear a 
 
 the cause of his effects in Galen ; it is a kind of decreasing leg? an increasing belly? Is not your 
 deafness. voice broken ? your wind short ? your chin double ? 
 
 (1) Alluding to an old proverb : Who goes to 
 Westminster for a wife, to St. Paul's for a man, 
 and to Smithfield for a horse, may meet with a 
 whore, a knave, and a jade. 
 
 (2) A catch-pole or bum-bailiff. 
 
 (3) A large candle for a feast. 
 
 (4) The coin called an angel. (5) Pass current. 
 (6) Readiness, (7) Foreparl.
 
 Scene H. 
 
 SECOND PART OF KING HENRY IV. 
 
 41* 
 
 your wit single? 1 and every part about you blasted] wit will make use of any thing; I will turn dis- 
 with antiquity? 2 and will you yet call yourself eases to commodity. [Exit. 
 
 young ? Fie, fie, fie, sir John ! 
 
 Fal. My lord, I was born about three of the 
 clock in the afternoon, with a white head, and 
 something a round belly. For my voice, I have 
 lost it with hollaing, and singing of anthems. To 
 approve my youth further, I will not : the truth is, 
 I am only old in judgment and understanding ; 
 and he that will caper with me for a thousand 
 marks, let him lend me the money, and have at 
 him. For the box o'the ear that the prince gave 
 you. he gave it like a rude prince, and you took 
 it like a sensible lord. I have check'd him for it ; 
 and the young lion repents : marry, not in ashes, 
 and sackcloth ; but in new silk, and old sack. 
 
 Ch. Just. Well, heaven send the prince a better 
 companion ! 
 
 Fal. Heaven send the companion a better prince ! 
 I cannot rid my hands of him. 
 
 Ch. Just. Well, the king hath severed you and 
 prince Harry: I hear, you are going with lord 
 John of Lancaster, against the archbishop, and 
 the earl of Northumberland. 
 
 Fal. Yea ; I thank your pretty sweet wit for it, 
 But look you pray, all you that kiss my lady peat* 
 at home, that our armies join not in a hot day! 
 for, by the Lord, I take but two shirts out withme, 
 and I mean not to sweat extraordinarily: if it be 
 a hot day, an I brandish any thing but my bottle, 
 I would I might never spit white again. There is 
 not a dangerous action can peep out his head, bul 
 I am thrust upon it: Well, I cannot last ever: 
 But it was always yet the trick of our English na- 
 tion, if they have a good thing, to make it too com- 
 mon. If you will needs say, I am an old man, you 
 should give me rest. I would to God, my name 
 were not so terrible to the enemy as it is. I were 
 better to be eaten to death with rust, than to be 
 scoured to nothing with perpetual motion. 
 
 Ch. Just. Well, be honest, be honest; And God 
 bless your expedition ! 
 
 Fal. Will your lordship lend me a thousand 
 pound, to furnish me forth '! 
 
 Ch. Just. Not a penny, not a penny ; you are 
 too impatient to bear crosses. Fare you well: 
 Commend me to my cousin Westmoreland. 
 
 [Exeunt Chief Justice and Attendant. 
 
 Fal. If I do, fillip me with a three-man beetle. 3 
 A man can no more separate age and covetous- 
 ness, than he can part young limbs and lechery : 
 but the gout galls the one, and the pox pinches the 
 other; and so both the degrees prevent* my 
 curses. Boy ! 
 
 Page. Sir? 
 
 Fal. What money is in my purse ? 
 
 Page. Seven groats and two-pence. _ 
 
 Fal. I can get no remedy against this consump- 
 tion of the purse : borrowing only lingers and 
 lingers it out, but the disease is incurable. Go, 
 bear this letter to my lord of Lancaster ; this to 
 the prince ; this to the earl of Westmoreland ; and 
 
 SCEJVE III. York. A room in the archbishop'* 
 palace. Enter the archbishop o/York, the lords 
 Hastings, Mowbray, and Bardolph. 
 
 Arch. Thus have you heard our cause, and known 
 
 our means ; 
 
 And, my most noble friends, I pray you all, 
 Speak plainly your opinions of our hopes : 
 And first, lord marshal, what say you to it? 
 
 Mowb. I well allow the occasion of our arms : 
 But gladly would be better satisfied, 
 How, in our means, we should advance ourselves 
 To look with forehead bold and big enough 
 Upon the power and puissance of the king. 
 
 Hast. Our present musters grow upon the 
 To five and twenty thousand men of choice ; 
 And our supplies live largely in the hope 
 Of great Northumberland, whose bosom burns 
 With an incensed tire of injuries. 
 
 Bard. The question then, lord Hastings, stand- 
 
 eth thus ; 
 
 Whether our present five and twenty thousand 
 Mav hold up head without Northumberland. 
 
 Hast. With him, we may. 
 
 Bard. Ay, marry, there's the point : 
 
 But, if without him we be thought too feeble, 
 My judgment is, we should not step too far 
 Till we had his assistance by the hand : 
 For, in a theme so bloody-fac'd as this, 
 Conjecture, expectation, and surmise 
 Of aids uncertain, should not be admitted. 
 
 Arch. 'Tis very true, lord Bardolph; for, indeed, 
 It was young Hotspur's case at Shrewsbury. 
 
 Bard. It was, my lord ; who lin'd himself with 
 
 hope, 
 
 Eating the air on promise of supply, 
 Flattering himself with project of a power 
 Much smaller than the smallest of his thoughts : 
 And so, with great imagination, 
 Proper to madmen, led his powers to death, 
 And, winking, leap'd into destruction. 
 
 Hast. But, by your leave it never yet did hurt, 
 To lay down likelihoods, and forms of hope. 
 
 Bard. Yes, in this present quality of war ; 
 Indeed the instant action (a cause on foot,) 
 Lives so in hope, as in an early spring 
 We see the appearing buds ; which, to prove fruit, 
 Hope gives not so much warrant, as despair, 
 That frosts will bite them. When we mean to build, 
 We first survey the plot, then draw the model ; 
 And when we see the figure of the house, 
 Then must we rate the cost of the erection : 
 Which if we find outweighs ability, 
 What do we then, but draw anew the model 
 In fewer offices ; or, at least, desist 
 To build at all ? Much more, in this great work 
 (Which is, almost, to pluck a kingdom down, 
 And set another up,) should we survey 
 The plot of situation, and the model; 
 Consent* upon a sure foundation ; 
 
 this to old mistress Ursula, whom I have weekly Question surveyors ; know our own estate, 
 sworn to marry since 1 perceived the first white How able such a work to undergo, 
 hair on my chin : About it; you know where to I TO weigh against his opposite ; or else, 
 
 find me. [Exit Page.] A pox of this gout ! or, a 
 gout of this pox ! for the one, or the other, plays 
 the rogue with my great toe. It is n6 matter, if I 
 do halt ; I have the wars for my colour, and my 
 pensions shall seem the more reasonable : A good 
 
 (1) Small. (2) Old age. 
 
 (3) A large wooden hammer so heavy as to re- 
 quire three men to wieW iV. 
 
 We fortify in paper, and in figures, 
 Using the names of men, instead of men : 
 Like one, that draws the model of a house 
 Beyond his power to build it ; who, half through, 
 Gives o'er, and leaves his part -created cost 
 A naked subject to the weeping clouds, 
 And waste for churlish winter's tyranny. 
 
 (4) Anticipate, 
 
 (5) Agree,
 
 SECOND PART OF KING HENRY IV. 
 
 416 
 
 Hast. Grant that our hopes (yet likely for fair 
 
 birth,) 
 
 Should be still-born, and that we now possess'd 
 The utmost man of expectation ; 
 I think, we are a body strong enough, 
 Even as we are, to equal with the king. 
 
 Bard. What ! is the king but five and twenty 
 thousand ? 
 
 Hast. To us, no more ; nay, not so much, lord 
 
 Bardolph. 
 
 For his divisions, as the times do brawl, 
 Are in three heads : one power against the French, 
 And one against Glendoiver ; perforce, a third 
 Must take up us : So is the uniirm king 
 In three divided ; and his coffers sound 
 With hollow poverty and emptiness. 
 
 Jirch. That he should draw his several strengths 
 
 Jet II. 
 
 nd come against us in full puissance, 
 Need not be dreadod. 
 
 Hast. If he should do so, 
 
 He leaves his back unarm'd, theFreaeh and Welsh 
 Baying him at the heels : never fear that. 
 
 Bard. Who, is it like, should lead his forces 
 hither ? 
 
 Hast. The duke of Lancaster, and \ Westmore- 
 
 land : 
 
 Against the Welsh, himself, and Harry Monmouth: 
 But who is substituted 'gainst the French, 
 I have no certain notice. 
 
 Jlrch. Let us on ; 
 
 And publish the occasion of our arms. 
 The commonwealth is sick of their own choice, 
 Their over-greedy love hath surfeited : 
 A habitation giddy and unsure 
 Hath he, that Duildeth on the vulgar heart. 
 O thou fond many !' with what loud applause , 
 Didst thou beat heaven with blessing Bolinubrokc, 
 Before he was what thoji would'st have him be'/ 
 And being now trimm'd 2 in thine own desires, 
 Thou, beastly feeder, art so full of him, 
 That thou provok'st thyself to cast him up. 
 So, so, thou common dog, didst thou disgorge 
 Thy glutton bosom of the royal Richard ; 
 And now thou would'st cat thy dead vomit up, 
 And howl'st to find it. Whst trust is in these times? 
 They that, when Richard liv'd, would have him die, 
 Are now become enair.our'd on his grave : 
 Thou, that threw'st dust upon his goodly head, 
 When through proud London he caine sighing on 
 After the admired heels of Bolingbroke, 
 Cry'st now, earth, iiield us that king again, 
 Jlnd take tluni this ! thoughts of men accurst! 
 Past, and to come, seem best ; things present, worst. 
 
 Jflowb. Shall we go draw our numbers, and set on ? 
 
 Haft. We are time's subjects, and time bids be 
 gone. [Exeunt. 
 
 ACT II. 
 
 SCENE /.London. A /street. Enter Unless; 
 Fang, and his boy, with her ; and Snare follow- 
 ing. 
 
 Host. Master Fan<r, have you entered the action ? 
 Fang. It is entered. 
 
 Host. Where is your yeoman ? 3 Is it a lusty yeo- 
 man? will a' stand to't? 
 Fing. Sirrah, where's Snare ? 
 Host. O lord, ay : good master Snare. 
 
 (1) Multitude. 
 
 (3) A bailiffs follower, 
 
 (2) Dress'd. 
 . (4) Thrust. (5) Grasp, 
 
 Snare. Here, here. 
 
 Fang. Snare, we must arrest sir John Falstaff. 
 
 Host. Yea, good master Snare ; I have entered 
 him and all. 
 
 Snare. It may chance cost some of us our lives, 
 for he will stab. 
 
 Host. Alas the day ! take heed of him ; he 
 stabbed me in mine own house, and that most 
 beastly : in good faith, a' cares not what mischief 
 he doth, if his weapon be out : he will foin* like 
 any devil ; he will spare neither man, woman, nor 
 child. 
 
 Fang. If I can close with him, I care not for 
 his thrust. 
 
 Host. No, nor I neither: I'll he at your elbow. 
 
 Fang. An I but fist him once ; an "a' come but 
 within my vice ; 6 
 
 Host. I am undone by his going ; I warrant you. 
 he's an infinitive thing upon my score : Good 
 master Fang, hold him sure ; good master Snare, 
 let him not 'scape. He comes continually to Pie- 
 corner, (saving your manhoods,) to buy a saddle ; 
 and he's indited to dinner to the lubbar's head in 
 Lumbert-street, to master Smooth's the silkman : I 
 pray ye, since my exion is entered, and my case 
 ^openly known to the world, let him be brought 
 nPlo his answer. A hundred mark is a long loan 
 for a poor lone woman to bear : And I have borne ? 
 and borne, and borne ; and have been fubbed off, 
 and fubbed of!", and fubbed off", from this day to 
 that clay, that it is a shame to be thought on. There 
 is no h'onesty in such dealing ; unless a woman 
 should be made an ass, and a beast, to bear every 
 knave's wrong. 
 
 Enter Sir John Falstaff, Page, and Bardolph. 
 Yonder he comes ; and that arrant malmsey-nose 
 knave, Bardolph, with fen. Do your offices, do 
 your offices, master Fane, and master Snare ; do 
 me, do me, do me your offices. 
 
 Fa'. How now ^ whose mare's dead ? what's 
 the matter ? 
 
 Fang. Sir John, I arrest you at the suit of mis- 
 tress Quickly. 
 
 Fal. Away, varlets ! Draw, Bardolph ; cut me 
 ofl' the villain's head ; throw the quean in the 
 channel. 
 
 Host. Throw me in ths channel ? I'll throw thee 
 in the channel. Wilt thou ? wilt thou ? thou bas- 
 tardly rogue ! Murder, murder! O thou honey- 
 suckle villain ! wilt thou kill God's officers, and 
 the king's ? O thou honey-seed' rogue ! thou art a 
 honey-seed ; a man-queller, and a woman-queller. 
 
 Fal. Keep them off, Bardolph. 
 
 Fang. A rescue ! a rescue ! 
 
 Host. Good people, bring a rescue or two. 
 Thou wo't, wo't thou ? thou wo't, wo't thou ? do, 
 do, thou rogue ! do, thou hemp-seed ! 
 
 Fal. Away, YOU scullion ! you rampallion ! you 
 fustilarian ! I'lPlickle your catastrophe. 
 
 Enter the Lord Chief Justice, attended. 
 
 Ch. Just. What's the matter? keep the peace 
 here, ho ! " 
 
 Host. Good my lord, be good to me ! I beseech 
 you, stand to me ! 
 
 Ch. Just. How now, sir John ? what, are you 
 
 brawling here? 
 
 Doth this become your place, your time, and busi- 
 ness? 
 
 You should have been well on your way to York. 
 Stand from him, fellow ; Wherefore hang'st thou 
 on him? 
 
 (6) Homicidal. 
 
 (7) Homicide,
 
 Scent 11. 
 
 SECOND PART OP KING HENRY IV. 
 
 417 
 
 Host. my most worshipful lord, an't please 
 your grace, I am a poor widow of Eastcheap, and 
 he is arrested at my suit. 
 
 Ch. Just. For what sum ? 
 
 Host. It is more than for some, my lord ; it is for 
 all, all I have : he hath eaten me out of house and 
 home ; he hath put all my substance into that fat 
 belly of his : but I will have some of it out again, 
 or I'll ride thee o'nights, like the mare. 
 
 Fed. I think, I am as like to ride the mare, if I 
 have any vantage of ground to get up. 
 
 Cli. Just. How comes this, sir John? Fie! what 
 
 man of good temper would endure this tempest of of the prodigal, or the German hunting in water- 
 
 exclamation ? Are you not ashamed, to enforce a 
 poor widoiv to so rough a course to come by her 
 
 own ? 
 Fal. What is the 
 
 ross sum that I owe thee ? 
 
 Host. Marry, if thou wert an honest man, thy- 
 self, and the money too. Thou didst swear to me 
 upon a parcel-gill 1 goblet, sitting in my Dolphin 
 chamber, at the round table, by a sea-coal lire, 
 
 upon Wednesday in Whitsun wee 
 
 ly a sea 
 k, when 
 
 the prince 
 
 broke thv head for liking his father to a singing- 
 man of Windsor; thou didst swear to me then, as 
 I was washing thy wound, to marry me, and makoi 
 me my lady thy wife. Canst thou deny it? Did 
 not good wife Keech, the butcher's wife, comJto 
 Ihen^and call me gossip Quickly? coming in to 
 borrow a mess of vinegar ; telling us, she had a 
 good dish of prawns ; whereby thou didst desire to 
 eat some ; whereby I told thee, they were ill for a 
 green wound ? And didst thou not, when she was 
 gone down stairs, desire me to be no more so fa- 
 miliarity with such poor people: saying, that ere 
 Ions; they should call me madam ? And didst thou 
 not KISS me, and bid me fetch thee thirty shillings ? 
 I put thee now to thy book-oath ; deny it, if thou 
 canst. 
 
 Fal. My lord, this is a poor mad soul ; and she 
 says, up and down the town, that her eldest son is 
 like you : she hath been in good case, and, the 
 truth" is, poverty hath distracted her. But for these 
 foolish ollicers, I beseech you, I may have redress 
 against them. 
 
 ~Ch. Just. Sir John, sir John, I am well acquaint- 
 ed with your manner of wrenching the true cause 
 the false way. It is not a confident brow, nor the 
 throng of words that come with such more than 
 impudent sauciness from you, can thrust me from 
 a level consideration ; you have, as it appears to 
 me, practised upon the easy-yielding spirit of this 
 woman, and made her serve your uses both in 
 purse and person. 
 
 Host. Yea, in troth, my lord. 
 
 Cli. Just. Pr'vthee, peace: Pay her the debt 
 you owe her, ancl unpay the villany you have done 
 with her; the one you may do with sterling money, 
 and the other with current repentance. 
 
 Fal. My lord, I will not undergo this sneap 3 with- 
 out reply. You call honourable boldness, impudent 
 saueiness: if a man will make court'sy, and say 
 nothing, he is virtuous : No, my lord, my humble 
 duty remembered, I will not be your suitor ; I say 
 to you, I do desire deliverance from these officers, 
 being upon hasty employment in the king's affairs. 
 
 Ch. Just. Yo'u speafc a? having power to do 
 wrong : but answer in the effect of your reputation, 3 
 and satisfy the poor woman. 
 
 Fal. Come hither, hostess. [Taking her aside. 
 
 Enter Gower. 
 Ch. Just. Now, master Gower ; What news? 
 
 (1) Partly gilt. (2) Snub, check. 
 
 Gow. The king, my lord, and Harry princt of 
 
 Wales 
 Are near at hand : the rest the paper tells. 
 
 Fat. As I am a gentleman ; 
 
 Host. Nay, you said so before. 
 
 Fal. As I am a gentleman ; Come, no more 
 
 words of it. 
 
 Host. By this heavenly ground I tread on, I must 
 be fain to pawn Bbth my plate, and the tapestry of 
 
 my dining-chambers. 
 Fal. Glasses, glasses, is the onl 
 
 for thy walls, a pretty slight drollery, or the story 
 
 and 
 
 work, is worth a thousand of these bed-hangings, 
 and these fly-bitten tapestries. Let it be ten pound, 
 if thou canst. Come, an it were not for thy hu- 
 mours, there is not a better wench in England* Go, 
 wash thy face, and draw* thy action : Come, thou 
 must not be in thishurooar uii'n me ; dost not know 
 me ? Come, come, I know thou wast set on to this. 
 Host. Pray thee, sir John, let it be but twenty 
 
 nobles 
 good 
 
 lies : i'i'iii 
 >.l earnc?: 
 Let i 
 be a fool still. 
 
 iii, I am loath 1 to pawn my plate, in 
 t, la. 
 it alone ; I'll make other shift : you'll 
 
 Host. Well, you shall have it, though I pawn my 
 frown. I hope, you'll come to supper: You'll pay 
 me all together / 
 
 Fal. W ill 1 live ? Go, with her, with her ; [To 
 Bardolph.l hook on, hook on. 
 
 Host. Will you have Doll Tear-sheet meet you 
 at supper? 
 
 Fal. No more words ; let's hare her. 
 
 [Exeunt Host. Bard, officers, and page. 
 
 Ch. Just. I have heard better news. 
 
 Fal. What's the news, my good lord ? 
 
 Ch. Just. Where lay the king last night? 
 
 Gow. At Basingstoke, my lord. 
 
 Fal. I hope, my lord, all's well : What's the 
 news, my lord ? 
 
 Ch. Just. Come all his forces back ? 
 
 Goto. No; fifteen hundred foot, five hundred 
 
 horse, 
 
 Are march'd up to my lord of Lancaster ? 
 Against Northumberland, and the archbishop. 
 
 Fal. Comes the king back from Wales, my noble 
 lord? 
 
 Ch. Just. You shall have letters of me presently : 
 Come, go along with me, good master Gower. 
 
 Fal. My lord ! 
 
 Ch. Just. What's the matter? 
 
 Fal. Master Gower, shall I entreat you with me 
 to dinner? 
 
 Gow. I must wait upon my good lord here : I 
 thank you, good sir John. 
 
 Ch. 'Just. Sir John, you loiter here too long, 
 being you are to take soldiers up in counties as 
 you go. 
 
 Fal. Will you sup with me, master Gower? 
 
 Ch. Just. What foolish master taught you these 
 manners, sir John ? 
 
 Fal. Master Gower, if they become me not, he 
 was a fool that taught them me. This is the right 
 fencing erace, my lord : tap for tap, and so part fair. 
 
 Ch. fust. Now the Lord lighten thee ! thou art 
 
 [Extant. 
 
 Another street. Enter 
 
 a great fool. 
 
 SCENE II. The same. 
 
 Prince Henry and Poins. 
 P. Hen. Trust me, I am exceeding weary. 
 Poins. Is it come to that? I had thought weari- 
 ness durst not have attached one of so high blood. 
 
 (3) Suitable to your character. (4) Withdraw 
 3 Cr
 
 418 
 
 SECOND PART OF KING HENRY IV. 
 
 Act II. 
 
 P. Hen. 'Faith, it does me ; though it discolours 
 the complexion of my greatness to acknowledge it. 
 Doth it not show vilely in me, to desire small beer ? 
 
 P^ins. Why, a prince should not be so loosely 
 studied, as to remember so weak a composition. 
 
 P. Hen. Belike then my appetite was not princely 
 got ; for, by my troth, I do now remember the poor 
 creature, small beer. But, indeed, these humble 
 considerations make me out of lore with my great- 
 ness. What a disgrace is it to me, to remember 
 thy name ? or to know thy face to-morrow ? or to 
 take note how many pair of silk stockings thou 
 hast ; viz. these, and those that were the peach- 
 coloured ones ? or to bear the inventory of thy 
 shirts ; as, one for superfluity, and one other for 
 use ? but that, the tennis-court keeper knows bet- 
 ter than I ; for it is a low ebb of linen with thee, 
 when thou keepest not racket there ; as thou hast 
 not done a great while, because the rest of thy low- 
 countries have made a shift, to eat up thy hollarid : 
 and God knows, whether those that bawl out the 
 ruins of thy linen, 1 shall inherit his kingdom ; but 
 the midwives say, the children are not in the iiiuit : 
 whereupon the world increases, and kindreds arc 
 mightily strengthened. 
 
 Poins. How ill it follows, after you have labour- 
 ed so hard, you should talk so idly ! Tell me, how 
 many good young princes would do so, their fathers 
 being so sick as yours at this time is ? 
 . P. Hen. Shall I tell thee one thing, Poins? 
 
 Poins. Yes ; and let it be an excellent good thing. 
 
 P. Hen. It shall serve among wits of no higher 
 breeding than thine. 
 
 Poins. Go to; I stand the push of your one 
 thing that you will tell. 
 
 P. Hen.' Why, I tell thee, it is not meet that I 
 should be sad, now my father is sick: albeit I 
 could tell to thee (as to one it pleases me, for fault 
 of a better, to call my friend,) I could be sad, and 
 sad indeed too. 
 
 Poins. Very hardly, upon such a subject. 
 
 P. Hen. By this hand, thou think'st me as far in 
 the devil's book, as thou, and Falstaff, for obduracy 
 and persistency : Let the end try the man. But I 
 tell thee. my heart bleeds inwardly, that my father 
 is so sick : and keeping such vile company as thou 
 art, hath in reason taken from me all ostentation 
 of sorrow. 
 
 Poins. The reason ? 
 
 P. Hen. What wouldst thou think of me, if I 
 should weep ? 
 
 Poins. I would think thee a most princely hypo- 
 crite. 
 
 P. Hen. It would be every man's thought : and 
 thou art a blessed fellpw, to "think as every man 
 thinks ; never a man's thought in the world keeps 
 the road-way better than thine : every man would 
 think me a hypocrite indeed. And what accites 
 your most worshipful thought, to think so ? 
 
 Poins. Why, .because you have been so lewd, 
 and so much engrafted to Falstaff. 
 
 P. Hen. And to thee. 
 
 Pains. By this light, I am well spoken of, I can 
 hear it with my own ears : the worst that they can 
 say of me is, that I am a second brother, and that 
 I am a proper fellow Of my hands ; and those two 
 things, I confess, I cannot help. By the mass, here 
 comes Bardolph. 
 
 P. Hen. And the boy that I gave Falstaff: he 
 had him from me Christian ; and look, if the fat 
 villain have not transformed him ape. 
 
 (1} Children wrapt up in his old shirts. 
 (2) An ale-house window. 
 
 Enter Bardolph and Page. 
 
 Bard. 'Save your grace ! 
 
 P. Hen. And yours, most noble Bardolph ! 
 
 Bard. Come, you virtuous ass, [To the page.] 
 you bashful fool, must you be blushing? wherefore 
 blush you now ? What a maidenly man at arms are 
 you become ! Is it such a matter, to get a pottle- 
 pot's maidenhead ? 
 
 Page. He called me even now, my lord, through 
 a red lattice, 2 and I could discern no part of his 
 face from the window : at last, I spied his eyes ; 
 and, methought, he had made two holes in the ale- 
 wife's new petticoat, and peeped through. 
 
 P. Hen. Hath not the boy profited ? 
 
 Bard. Away, you whoreson upright rabbit, 
 away ! 
 
 Page. Away, you rascally Althea's dream, 
 away ! 
 
 P. Hen. Instruct us, boy : What dream, boy ? 
 
 Page. Marry, my lord, Althea dreamed she was 
 delivered of a fire-brand ; and therefore I call him 
 her dream. 
 
 P. Hen. A crown's worth of good interpretation. 
 . There it is, boy. [Gives him money. 
 
 Pains. O, that this good blossom could be kept 
 from cankers ! Well, there is sixpence to preserve 
 thee. 
 
 Bard. An you do not make him be hanged 
 among you, the gallows shall have wrong. 
 
 P. Hen. And how doth thy master, Bardolph? 
 
 Bard. Well, my lord. He heard of your grace's 
 coming to town ; there's a letter for you. 
 
 Poins. Delivered ivith good respect. And how 
 doth the Martlemas,* your master ? 
 
 Bard. In bodily health, sir. 
 
 Poins. Marry, "the immortal part needs a physi- 
 cian : but that moves not him ; though that be sick, 
 it dies not. 
 
 P. Hen. I do allow this wen 4 to be as familiar 
 with me as my dog : and he holds his place ; for, 
 look you, how lie writes. 
 
 Poms. [Reads.] John Falstaff, knight, Every 
 
 man must know that, as oft as he has occasion to 
 name himself. Even like those that are kin to the 
 king; for they never prick their linger, but they 
 say, There is some of the king's blood spilt : How 
 comes that? says he, that takes upon him not to 
 conceive : the answer is as ready as a borrower's 
 cap ; I am the king's poor cousin, sir. 
 
 P. Hen. Nay, they will be kin to us, or they will 
 feteli it from Japhet. But the letter : 
 
 Poins. S/r John Falstaflj knight, to the son of 
 the king, nearest his father, Harry, prince of 
 Wales, greeting. Why, this is a certificate. 
 
 P. Hen. Peace ! 
 
 Poins. / will imitate the honourable Roman in- 
 brevity : he sure means brevity in breath ; short- 
 winded. / commend me to thee, I commend thee, 
 and I leave thee. Be not too familiar with Poins, 
 for he misuses thy favours so much, that he swears 
 thou art to marry his sister Nell. Repent at idle 
 times as thou may^st, and so farewell. 
 
 Thine, by yea and no, (which is as 
 much as to say, as thou ussst him,} 
 Jack Falstafff with my familiars ; 
 John, with my brothers and sisters, 
 and i'l'r John, with all Europe. 
 
 My lordj I will steep this letter in sack, and make 
 him eat it. 
 P. Hen. That's to make him eat twenty of his 
 
 (3) Martinmas, St. Martin's day is Nov. 11. 
 
 (4) Swollen excrescence.
 
 Scene III, IV. 
 
 SECOND PART OP KING HENRY IV, 
 
 419 
 
 words. But do you use me thus, Ned? must I 
 marry your sister ? 
 
 Poins. May the wench have no worse fortune ! 
 but I never said so. 
 
 P. Hen. Wei!, thus we play the fools with the 
 time ; and the spirits of the wise sit in the clouds, 
 and mock us. Is your master here in London ? 
 
 Bard. Yes, my lord. 
 
 P. Hen. Where sups he ? Dolh the old boar feed 
 in the old frank? 1 
 
 Bard. At the old place, my lord ; in Eastcheap. 
 
 P. Hen. What company V 
 
 Page. Ephesians, my lord ; of the old church. 
 
 P. Hen. Sup any women with him? 
 
 Page. None, my lord, but old mistress Quickly, 
 and mistress Doll Tear-sheet. 
 
 P. Hen. What pagan may that be ? 
 
 Page. A proper gentlewoman, sir, and a kins- 
 woman of my master's. 
 
 P. Hen. Even such kin, as the parish heifers are 
 to the town bull. Shall we steal upon them, Ned, 
 at supper ? 
 
 Poins. I am your shadow, my lord ; I'll follow 
 you. 
 
 P. Hen. Sirrah, you boy, and Bardolph ; no 
 word to your master, that I am yet come to town : 
 There's for your silence. 
 
 Kurd. I have no tongue, sir. 
 
 Page. And for mine, sir, I will govern it. 
 
 P. Hen. Fare ye well ; go [Exeunt Bardolph 
 end Page.] this Doll Tear-sheet .should be sonic 
 road. 
 
 Poins. I warrant yo;;, ns common as the way 
 between Sair.t Alban's and Lo;: 
 
 P. Hen. How mi'.rht we see FalstafF bestow 
 himself to-night in hiJ true colours, and not our- 
 selves be seen ? 
 
 Poms. Put on two leather jerkins, and aprons, 
 and wait upon him at his table, as drawers. 
 
 P. Hen. i 7 rorn a god to a bull ? a heavy descen- 
 sion ! it was Jove's case. From a prince to a 'pren- 
 tice ? a low transformation ! that shall be mine : 
 for, in every thing-, the purpose must weiprh with 
 the folly. Follow me, Ned. [Exeunt 
 
 3CENE III. Warkworth. Before the castle. 
 Enter Northumberland, Lady Northumberland, 
 and Lady Percy. 
 
 North. I pray thee, loving wife, and gentle 
 
 daughter, 
 
 Give even way unto my roush affairs : 
 Put not you on the visage of the times, 
 And be, like them, to Percy troublesome. 
 
 Lady N. I have given over, I will speak no more : 
 Do what you will ; your wisdom be your guide. 
 
 North. Alas, sweet \vife, my honour is at pawn ; 
 And, but inv going, nothing can redeem it. 
 
 Lady P. 0,"yet, for God's sake, go not to these 
 
 wars ! 
 
 The time was, father, Unit you broke your word, 
 When you were more en dear' d to il than now ; 
 When your own Percy, when my heart's dear Harry, 
 Threw many a northward look, to see his father 
 Bring up his powers ; but he did Ion? in vain. 
 Who then persuaded you to stay at home ? 
 There were two honours lost : yours, and your son's. 
 For vours, may heavenly glory brighten it ! 
 For his, it stuck upon him, as the sun 
 In the grey vault of heaven : and, by his light, 
 Did all the chivalry of England move 
 To do brave acts ; he was, indeed, the glass 
 
 (1) Sty. (2) I\l-betide. 
 
 (3) An apple that will keep two years, 
 
 Wherein the noble youth did dress themselves. 
 
 He had no legs, that practis'd not his gait : 
 
 And speaking thick, which nature made his blemish, 
 
 Became the accents of the valiant ; 
 
 For those that could speak low, and tardily, 
 
 Would turn their own perfection to ubuse,' 
 
 To seem like him : So that, in speech, in gait, 
 
 In diet, in affections of delight, 
 
 In military rules, humours of blood, 
 
 lie was the mark and glass 1 , copy and book, 
 
 That fashion'd others. And him, wondrous him! 
 
 miracle of men ! him did you leave 
 (Second to none, unSeconded by you,) 
 To look upon the hideous god o'f war 
 In disadvantage ; to abide a field, 
 
 Where nothing but the sound of Hotspur's name 
 Did seem defensible : so you left him : ^^ 
 Never, O never, do his ghost the wrong, 
 To hold your honour more precise ana nice 
 With others, than with him j let them alone ; 
 The marshal, and the archbishop, are strong: 
 Had my sweet Harry had but half their numbers, 
 To-day might I, hanging on Hotspur's neck, 
 Hare talk'd of Monmouth's grave. 
 
 North. Beshrew* your heart, 
 
 Fair daughter ! you do draw my spirits from me, 
 With new lamenting ancient oversights. 
 But I must go, and meet with danger there ; 
 Or it will seek me in another place, 
 And find me worse provided. 
 
 Lady N. O, fly to Scotland, 
 
 Till that the nobles, and the armed commons, 
 Have of their puissance made a little taste. 
 
 Lady P. If they get ground and vantage of the 
 
 king, 
 
 Then join you with them, like a rib of steel, 
 To make strength stronger ; but, for all our loves, 
 First let them try themselves : So did your son ; 
 He was so suffer'd ; so came I a widow ; 
 And never shall have length of life enough, 
 To rain upon remembrance with mine eyes, 
 That it may grow and sprout as high as heaven, 
 For recordation to my noble husband. 
 
 JYbrtA. Come, come, go in with me : 'tis with 
 
 my mind, 
 
 AS with the tide swell'd up into its height, 
 That makes a still-stand, running neither way. 
 Fain would I go to meet the archbishop, 
 But many thousand reasons hold me back : 
 
 1 will resolve for Scotland ; there am I, 
 Till time and vantage crave my company. 
 
 ' [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE IV. London. .9 room in the Boar's 
 Htad Tavern, in Eastcheap. Enter two Drawers. 
 
 1 Draw. What the devil hastthou brought there ? 
 apple-Johns ? thou know'st, sir John cannot endure 
 an apple- John. 3 
 
 2 Draw. Mas?, thou saycst true : The prince 
 once set a dish of apple- Johns before him, and told 
 him, there were five more sir Johns : and, putting 
 off his hat, said, / will now take my leave of these 
 six dry, round, old, withtr'd knights. It angered 
 him to the heart ; but he hath forgot that. 
 
 1 Draw. Why then, cover, and set them down : 
 And see if thou canst find out Sneak's noise;* mis- 
 tress Tear-sheet would fain hear some music. De- 
 spatch : The room where they supped is too hot ; 
 they'll come in straight. 
 
 2 Drmr. Sirrah, here will be the prince, and 
 master Poins anon : and they will put on two of our 
 
 (4) Sneak was a street minstrel : a noise of mu- 
 sicians anciently signified a concert.
 
 42U 
 
 SECOND PART OF KING HENRY IV. 
 
 Acl II. 
 
 jerkins, and aprons ; and sir John must not know 
 of it : Bardolph hath brought word 
 
 1 Draw. By the mass, here will be old utis :' It comes no swaggerers 5 here. 
 
 will be an excellent stratagem. 
 
 2 Draw. I'll see, it' I can find out Sneak. [Lxit. 
 Enter Hostess and Doll Tear-sheet. 
 
 Host. I'faith, sweetheart, methinks now you are 
 in an excellent good temporality: your pulsidge 
 
 Fal. Dost thou hear, hostess ? 
 
 Host. Pray you, pacify yourself, sir John ; there 
 
 Fal. Dost thou hear ? it is mine ancient. 
 
 Host, Tilly-fally, sir John, never tell me ; your 
 ancient swaggerer comes not in my doors. I was 
 before master Tisick, the deputy, the other day ; 
 and, as he said to me, it was no longer ago than 
 Wednesday last, Neighbour Quickly, says he_ ; 
 
 beats as extraordinarily as heart would desire : and master Dumb, our minister, was by the'n ; Ntigh- 
 
 
 vour colour, I warrant you, i-; as red as any rose : 
 But, i'faith, you have drunk too much canaries; 
 and that's a marvellous searching wine, and it per- 
 fames the blood ere one can say, What's this? 
 How do you now ? 
 
 Doll. Better than I was. Hem. 
 ' Host. Why, that's well said ; a pood heart's 
 vorth golu. "Look, here comes sir John. 
 Enter Faistan, 
 
 Fal. When JlrLhur first in court. Empty the 
 Jordan. Jlnd was a worthy king : [Exit Drawer.] 
 'How now, mistress Doll ? 
 
 Host. Sick of a calm : yea, good sooth. 
 
 Fal. So is all her sect ; an they be once in a 
 calm, they are sick. 
 
 Doll. You muddy rascal, is that all -the comfort 
 you jfive me ? 
 
 Fal. You make fat rascals, mistress Doll. 
 
 Doll. I make them ! gluttony and diseases' make 
 them ; I make them not. 
 
 Fal. If the cook help to make the gluttony, you 
 help to make the diseases, Doll : we catch of you, 
 Doll, we catch of you ; grant that, my poor virtue 
 grant that. 
 
 Doll. Ay, marry ; our chains, and our jewels. 
 
 Fal. Your brooches, pearls^ and owches ; for to 
 serve bravely, ia to come halting off", you know : To 
 come off the breach with his pike bent bravely, and 
 to surgery bravely ; to venture upon the charged 
 chambers 2 bravely : 
 
 Doll. Hang yourself, you muddy conger, hang 
 yourself! 
 
 Host. By my troth, this is the old fashion ; you 
 t*vo never meet, but you fall to some discord : you 
 are both, in good troth, as rheumatic as two dry 
 toasts ; you cannot one bear with another's confir- 
 
 bonr Quickly, says he, receive those that are civil ; 
 for, saith he, you are in an ill name ; now he said 
 so, I can tell whereupon ; for, says he, you are an 
 honest woman, and well thought on; therefore take 
 heed what guests you receive : Receive, says he, 
 
 no sicaggering companions. There comes none 
 
 here ; you xvould bless you to hear what he said : 
 no, I'll no swaggerers. 
 
 Fal. He's no swaggerer, hostess; a tame cheater, 8 
 lie ; you may stroke him as gently as a puppy grey- 
 hound : he will not swagger with a Barbary hen, 
 if her feathers turn back in any show of resistance. 
 Call him up, drawer. 
 
 Host. Cheater, call you him ? I will bar no 
 honest man my house, nor no cheater: But I do 
 not love swaggering ; by my troth, I am the worse, 
 when one says swagger : feel, masters, how I 
 shako ; look you, I warrant you. 
 
 Doll. So you do, hostess. 
 
 Host. Do I ? yea, in very truth, do I, an 'twere 
 an aspen leaf: I cannot abide swaggerers. 
 
 Enter Pistol, Bardolph, and Page. 
 
 Pint. 'Save you, sir John ! 
 
 Fal. Welcome, ancient Pistol. Here, Pistol, I 
 charue you with a cup of sack: do you discharge 
 upon mine hostess. 
 
 Pist . I will discharge upon her, sir John, with 
 two bullets. 
 
 Fal. She is pistol-proof, sir; you shall hardly 
 ofl'end her. 
 
 Host. Come, I'll drink no proofs, nor no bullets : 
 I'll drink no more than will do me good, for no 
 man's pleasure, I. 
 
 Pist. Then to you, mistress Dorothy; I will 
 charge you. 
 
 mities.' What the good-year ! 3 one must bear, and! .- DoW ', ha 5? e me ' * scorn J~ ou > scurvy^compa- 
 that must be you : [To Doll.] you are the weaker!"' 
 vessel, as they say, the emptier vessel. 
 
 Doll. Can a weak empty vessel bear such a huge 
 full hogshead ? there's a whole merchant's venture 
 of Bourdeaux stuff in him ; you have not seen a 
 hulk better stuffed in the hold. Come, I'll be 
 friends with thee, Jack : thou art going to the wars ; 
 and whether I shall ever see thee again, or no, 
 there is nobody cares. 
 
 Re-enter Drawer. 
 
 Draw. Sir, ancient* Pistol's below, and would 
 speak with you. 
 
 Doll. Hang him, swaggering rascal ! let him 
 not come hither : it is the foul-mouth'dst rogue in 
 England. 
 
 Host. If he swagger, let him not come here : no, 
 toy my faith ; I must live amongst my neighbours ; 
 swaggerers : I am in good name and fame 
 
 y my 
 
 'll no 
 
 with the very best : Shut the door ; there comes 
 no swaggerers here : I have not lived all this while, 
 to have" swaggering now : Shut the door, I pray 
 you. 
 
 (1) Merry doings. (2) Small pieces of ordnance. 
 
 (3) Mrs.'Quickly's blunder for goujere, i. e. pox. 
 
 (4) Ensign. (5) A blustering, fighting fellow. 
 
 with me. Away, you bottle-ale rascal ! v< 
 hilt stale juggler, you ! Since when, 1 
 
 nion. What ! you poor, base, rascally, cheating, 
 lack-linen mate ! Away, you mouldy rogue, away ! 
 I am meat for your master. 
 
 Pist. I know you, mistress Dorothy. 
 
 Doll. Away, you cut-purse rascal ! you filthy 
 bung, away ! by this wine, I'll thrust my knife in 
 your mouldy chaps, an you play the saucy cuttle 
 
 ou basket- 
 pray you, 
 
 sir ? What^'with two points' on your shoulder ? 
 much! 8 
 
 Pist. I will murder your ruff for this. 
 
 Fal. No more, Pistol ; I would not have vou go 
 off here : discharge yourself of ourcompany, Pistol. 
 
 Host. No, good captain Pistol ; not here, sweet 
 captain. 
 
 Doll. Captain ! thou abominable damned cheater, 
 art thou not ashamed to be called captain ? If 
 captains were of my mind, they would truncheon 
 you out, for taking their names upon you before 
 you have earned them. You a captain, you slave ! 
 for what? for tearing a poor whore's ruff in a 
 bawdy-house? He a captain ! Hang him, rogue ! 
 
 (6) Gamester. 
 
 ( 7} Laces, marks of his commission. 
 
 (8) An expression of disdain.
 
 SECOND PART OF KING HENRY IV. 
 
 Bard. Pray thce, go down, good ancient. 
 
 Fal. Hark thee hither, mistress Doll. 
 
 Pist. Not I : tell thce what, corporal Bar- 
 dolph ; 
 I could tear her : I'll be revenged on her. 
 
 Page. Pray thee, go down. 
 
 Pist. I'll see her da'mned first ; to Pluto's damn- 
 ed lake, to the infernal deep, with Erebus and tor- 
 tures vile also. Hold hook and line, say I. Down ! 
 down, dogs! down, faitors! 1 Have we not Hiren 
 here ? 2 
 
 Host. Good captain Peesel, be quiet ; it is very 
 late, i'faith: I beseek you now, aggravate your 
 choler. 
 
 Pisl. These be good humours, indeed ! Shall 
 
 pack-horses, 
 
 And hollow pamper'd jades of Asia, 
 Which cannot go but thirty miles a day, 
 Compare with Caesars, and with Cannibals, 3 
 And Trojan Greeks 1 nay, rather damn them witfcf 
 Kinjf Cerberus ; and let the welkin roar. 
 Shall we fall foal for toys ? 
 
 Host. By my troth, captain, these are very bitter 
 words. 
 
 Bard. Be gone, good ancient : this will grow 
 to a brawl anon. 
 
 Pist . Die men, like dogs ; give crowns like pins ; 
 
 gone. Ah, you whoreson little valiant villain, you. 
 Host. Are you not hurt i'the groin ? methousht. 
 
 - the groin ? methought, 
 
 ne made a shrewd thrust at your belly. 
 
 Re-enter Bardolph. 
 
 Fal. Have you turned him out of doors ? 
 
 Bard. Yes, sir. The rascal's drunk : you have 
 hurt him, sir, in the shoulder. 
 
 Fal. A rascal ! to brave me ! 
 
 Doll. Ah, you sweet little rogue, vou ! Alas, 
 poor ape, how thou sweat'st ! Come, let me wipe 
 thy face; come on, you whoreson chops: Ah, 
 rogue ! i'faith, I love thee. Thou art as j^^JMflfc 
 Hector of Troy, worth^pof Acrametanon, and ten 
 times better than " 
 
 rtiiics. Ah, villain! 
 
 Fal. A rascally slaTe ! I will toss the rogue in a 
 blanket. 
 
 Do, if thou darest for thy heart : if thou 
 dost, I'll canvass thee between a pair of sheets. 
 
 Enter music. 
 
 Pa%e. The music is come, sir. 
 Fal. Let them play; Play, sirs. Sit on my 
 nee, Doll. A rascal bragging slave ! the rogue 
 fled from me like quicksilver. 
 
 Doll. I'faith, and thou followedst him like a 
 :hurch. Thou whoreson little tidy Bartholomew 
 
 Have we not Hiren here 7 
 
 Host. O' my word, captain, there's none such:j| 
 here. What the good-year ! do you think I would' 
 deny her? for God's sake, be quiet. 
 
 Pist. Then feed, and be fat, rny fair Calipolis:" 
 Come, give's some sack. 
 
 Sifortuna me lormentu, sperato me con- 
 
 ienta. 
 
 Fear we broadsides? no, let the fiend give fire: 
 Give me some sack ; and, sweetheart, lie thou 
 there. [Laying doicn his sicord. 
 
 Come we to full points here ; and are ct ceteras 
 
 nothing ? 
 
 Fa'. Pistol, I would be quiet. 
 Pist. Sweet knight, I kiss thy r.cif: 5 What! we 
 have seen the seven stars. 
 
 Doll. Thrust him down stairs ; I cannot endure 
 such a fustian rascal. 
 
 Pist. Thrust him down stairs ! know we not 
 Galloway nags? 6 
 
 Fal. Quoit' him down, Bardolph, like a shove- 
 groat shilling: nay, if he do nothing but speak 
 iiothins;, he shall be nothing- here. 
 Bard. Come, get you down stairs. 
 Pist. What ! shall we have incision ? shall we 
 
 imbrue ? [Snatching up his sword. 
 
 Then death rock me asleep, abridge my dcleful 
 
 days! 8 
 
 Why then, let grievotis, ghastly, gaping wounds 
 Untwine the sisters three ! Come, Atropos, I say ! 
 Host. Here's goodly stuff toward! 
 Fa!. Give me my rapier, boy. 
 Doll. I pray thee, Jack, I pray thee, do not draw. 
 Fal. Get you down stairs. 
 
 [Drawing, and driving Pistol out. 
 Host. Here's a goodly tumult ! I'll forswear 
 
 (1) Traitors, rascals. 
 
 (2) A quotation from a play of G. Peele's. 
 
 (3) Blunder for Hannibal. 
 
 (4) Parody of a line in the Battle of Alcasar, an 
 old play. 
 
 boar-pie, when wilt thou leave fighting o'days, and 
 
 KdlX heaSn'v ^ ^^ tO ^ " P ^ ld 
 
 ^ 7 , 
 
 Lnter behind, Prince Henry and Poins, disgidsed 
 
 Fal. Peace, 
 
 like drawers. 
 ood Doll ! Do not speak like a 
 
 death's head : do not bid me remember mine end. 
 
 Doll. Sirrah, what humour is the prince of? 
 
 Fal. A good shallow young fellow : he would 
 have made a good pantler', he would have chipped 
 bread well. 
 
 Doll. They say, Poins has a good wit. 
 
 Fal. He a good wit ? hang him, baboon ! his 
 wit is as thick as Tewksbury mustard : there is no 
 more conceit in him, than is in a mallet. 
 
 Doll. Why does the prince love him so then ? 
 
 Fal. Because their legs are'both of a bigness: 
 and he plays at quoits well ; and eats conger and 
 fennel ; ana" drinks off candles' ends for flap-dra- 
 gons ; and rides the wild mare with the boys ; and 
 jumps upon joint-stools ; and swears with a good 
 grace ; and wears his boot very smooth, like unto 
 the sign of the leg; and breeds no bate with tcllin:; 
 of discreet stories, and such other gambol f '; > 
 he hath, that show a weak mind and an able body, 
 for the which the prince admits him : for the prince 
 himself is such another ; the weight of a hair will 
 turn the scales between their avoirdupois. 
 
 P. Hen. Would not this nava of a wheel have 
 his ears cut off? 
 
 Poins. Let's beat him before his whore. 
 
 P. Hen. Look, if the withered elder hath not 
 his poll clawed like a parrot. 
 
 Poins. Is it not strange, that desire should so 
 many years outlive performance? 
 
 Fal. Kiss me, Doll. 
 
 P. Hen. Saturn and Venus this year in conjunc- 
 tion ! what says the almanac to that ? 
 
 (5) Fist. 
 (7) Throw. 
 (9) Thrusting. 
 
 (6) Common hacknies. 
 
 (8.) Part of an ancient song.
 
 422 
 
 SECOND PART OF KING HENRY IV. 
 
 Act III. 
 
 Pains. And, look, whether the fiery Trigon, 1 his 
 man, be not lisping to his master's old tables ; his 
 note-book, his counsel-keeper. 
 
 Fal. Thou dost give me flattering busses. 
 
 Doll. Nay, truly ; I kiss thee with a most con- 
 stant heart. 
 
 Fal. I am old, I am old. 
 
 Doll. I love thee better than I love e'er a scurry 
 young boy of them all. 
 
 Fal. What stuff wilt have a kirtle 2 of? I shall 
 receive money on Thursday : thou shalt have a cap 
 to-morrow. A merry song, come : it prows late, 
 we'll to bed. Thou'lt forget me, when I am gone. 
 
 Doll. By my troth, thou'lt set me a weeping, an 
 thou sayest so: prove that ever I dress myself hand- 
 some till thy return. \VelI, hearken the end. 
 
 Fal. Some sack, Francis. 
 
 P. Hf.n. Poms. Anon, anon, sir. [Advancing. 
 
 Fal. Ha! a bastard ?oa of the king's And art 
 not thou Poins his brother? 
 
 P. Hen. Why, thou globe of sinful continents, 
 what a life dost thou lead ? 
 
 Fed. A better than thou ; I am a gentleman, 
 thou art a drawer. 
 
 P. Hen. Very true, sir ; and I come to draw 
 you out by the ears. 
 
 Host. 0, the Lcrd preserve thy pood grace ! by 
 my troth, welcome ta London. Now the Lord 
 bless that sweet face of thine ! O Jesu, are you 
 come from Wales 1 
 
 Fal. Thou whoreson mad compound of majes- 
 ty, by this light flesh and corrupt blood, thou art 
 welcome. [Leaning his hand upon Doll. 
 
 Doll. How! you fat fool,! scorn you. 
 
 Poins. My lord, he will drive you out of your 
 revenge, and turn all to a merriment, if you take 
 not the heat. 
 
 P. Hen. You whoreson candle-mine, you ; how 
 vilely did you speak of me even now, before this 
 honest, virtuous, civil gentlewoman 1 
 
 Host. 'Blessing o'your good heart! and so she 
 is, by mv troth. 
 
 Fal. Didst thou hear me? 
 
 P. Hen. Yes ; and you knew me, as you did 
 when you ran away by Gads-hill : you knew, I 
 was at your back ; and spoke it on purpose to try 
 my patience. 
 
 Fal. No, no, no; not so; I did not think thou 
 wast within hearing. 
 
 P. Hen. I shall drive you then to confess the 
 wilful abuse ; and then I know how to handle you. 
 
 Fal. No abuse, Hal, on mine honour; no abuse. 
 
 P. Hen. Not ! to dispraise me ; and call me 
 pantler, and bread-chipper, and I know not what? 
 
 Fal. No abuse, Hal. 
 
 Poins. No abuse ! 
 
 Fal. No abuse, Ned, in the world ; honest Ned, 
 none. I dispraised him before the wicked, that the 
 wicked might not fall in love with him : in which 
 doing, I have done the part of a careful friend, and 
 a true subject, and thy father is to give me thanks 
 for it. No abuse, Hal ; none, Ned, none ; no, 
 boys, none. 
 
 P. Hen. See, now, whether pure fear, and en- 
 tire cowardice, doth not make thee wrong this vir- 
 tuous gentlewoman to close with us ? Is she of the 
 wicked ? Is thine hostess^here of the wicked ? Or 
 is the boy of the wicked? Or honest Bardolph, 
 whose zeal burns in his nose, of the wicked ? 
 
 Poins. Answer, thou dead elm, answer. 
 
 Fal. The fiend hath pricked down Bardolph ir- 
 'ecoverable : and his face is Lucifer's privy kitchen, 
 
 (1) An astronomical term. (2) A short cloak. 
 
 where he doth nothing but roast malt-worms. For 
 the boy. there is a good angel about him; but 
 the devil outbids him too. 
 
 P. Hen. For the women, 
 
 Fal. For one of them, she is in hell already, 
 and burns, poor soul ! For the other, I owe her 
 money; and whether she be damned for that, I 
 know not. 
 
 Host. No, I warrant you. 
 
 Fal. No, I think thou art not ; I think, thou art 
 quit for that : Marry, there is another indictment 
 upon thee, for suffering flesh to be eaten in thy 
 house, contrary to the law ; for the which, I think, 
 thou wilt howl. 
 
 Host. All victuallers do so : What's a joint of 
 mutton or two in a whole Lent ? 
 
 P. Hen. You, gentlewoman, 
 
 Doll. What says your grace ? 
 
 Fal. His grace says that which his flesh rebels 
 against. 
 
 Host. Who knocks so loud at door ? look to the 
 door there, Francis. 
 
 Enter Peto. 
 
 P. Hen. Peto, how now? what news? 
 
 Peto. The king, your father, is at Westminster; 
 And there are twenty weak and wearied posts, 
 Come from the north : and, as I came along, 
 I met, and overtook, a dozen captains, 
 Bare-headed, sweating, knocking at the taverns, 
 And asking CYery one for sir John Falstaff. 
 
 P. Hen. By heaven, Poins, I feel me much to 
 
 blame, 
 
 So idly to profane the precious time ; 
 When tempest of commotion, like the south; 
 Borne with black vapour, doth begin to melt, 
 And drop upon our bare unannod'heads. 
 Give me my sword, and cloak : Falstaff, good 
 
 night. 
 
 [Exe'. P. Henry, Poins, Peto, and Bardolph. 
 ^Fnl. Now comes in the sweetest morsel of the 
 ni'jht, and we must hence, and leave it unpicked. 
 [Knoclting heard.] More knocking at the door ? 
 
 Re-enter Bardolph. 
 How now ? what's the matter ? 
 
 Bard. You must away to court, ir, presently; 
 A dozen captains stay at door for you. 
 
 Fal. Pay the musicians, sirrah. fTV>/iPage.] 
 
 Farewell, hostess ; Farewell, Doll. You see, my 
 sood wenches, how men of merit are sought after : 
 the undeserver may sleep, when the man of action 
 is called on. Farewell, good wenches : If I be not 
 sent away post, I will see you again ere I go. 
 
 Doll. I cannot speak ; If my heart be not ready 
 to burst: Well, sweet Jack, have a care of thyself. 
 
 Fed. Farewell, farewell. [Exe. Fal. and Bard. 
 
 Host. Well, fare thee well : I have known thee 
 these twenty-nine years, come peascod-time. ; but 
 an honester, and truer-hearted man, Well, fare 
 thee well. 
 
 Bard, [Within.] Mistress Tear-sheet, 
 
 Has!. What's the matter ? 
 
 Bard. [Within.] Bid mistress Tear-sheet come 
 to my master. 
 
 Host. O run, Doll, run ; run, good Doll. [Exe. 
 
 ACT 111. 
 
 SCEJ>*E I. A room in the palace. Enter King 
 
 Henry, i his night-gown, with a Page. 
 K. Hen. Go, call the earls of Surrey, and of 
 Warwick ;
 
 Scene II. 
 
 SECOND PART OF KING HENRY IV.' 
 
 423 
 
 But ere they come, bid them o'er-read these letters, 
 
 And well consider of them : Make good speed. 
 
 [Exit Page. 
 
 How many thousands of my poorest subjects 
 Are at this hour asleep ! Sleep, gentle sleep, 
 Nature's soft nurse, how have I frightad thee, 
 That thou no more wilt weigh my eyelids down, 
 And steep my senses in forgetfulness ? 
 Why rather, sleep, liest thou in smoky cribs, 
 Upon uneasy pallets stretching thee, 
 And hush'd with buzzing night-flies to thy slumber ; 
 Than in the perfum'd chambers of the great, 
 Under the canopies of costly state, 
 And lull'd with sounds of sweetest melody ? 
 O thou dull god, why liest thou with the vile, 
 In loathsome buds : "and leav'st the kingly couch, 
 A watch-case, or a common 'larum bell? 
 Wilt thou upon the high and giddy mast 
 Seal up the ship-boy's eyes, and rock his brains 
 In cradle of the rude imperious surge ; 
 And in the visitation of the winds. 
 Who take the ruffian billows by the top, 
 Curling their monstrous heads, and hanging them 
 With deaf'ntns clamours in the slippery clouds, 
 That, with the'hurly, 1 death itself awakes? 
 Canst thou, O partial sleep ! give thy repose 
 To the wet sea-boy in an hour so rude 5 
 Aud, in the calmest and most stillest night, 
 With all appliances and means to boot, 
 Deny it to a kincr? Then, happy low, 8 lie down ! 
 Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown. 
 
 Enter Warwick and Surrey. 
 
 War. Many good morrow* to your majesty ! 
 
 K. Hen. Is it good morro*, lords ? 
 
 War. 'Tis one o'clock, and past. 
 
 A. Hen. Why then, good morrow to you all, my 
 
 lords. 
 Have you read o'er the letters that I sent you ? 
 
 War. We have, my liege. 
 
 A". Hen. Then you perceive, the body of our 
 
 kingdom 
 
 How foul it is ; what rank diseases grow, 
 And with what danger, near the heart of it. 
 
 War. It is but as a body, yet, distemper'd ; 
 Which to his former strength may be restor'd, 
 
 With trood advice, and little medicine : 
 
 My lord Northumberland will soon be cool'd. 
 
 K. Hen. O heaven ! that one might read the book 
 
 of fate ; 
 
 And see the revolution of the times 
 Make mountains level, and the continent 
 (Weary of solid firmness) melt itself 
 Into the sea ! and, other times, to see 
 The beachv girdle of the ocean 
 Too wide for Neptune's hips ; how chances mock, 
 And changes fill the cup of alteration 
 Wiili divers liquors ! O, if this were seen, 
 The happiest youth, viewing his progress through, 
 What perils past, what crosses to ensue, 
 Would shut the book, aud sit him down and die. 
 'Tis not ten years gone, 
 
 Since Richard, and Northumberland, great friends, 
 Did feast together, and, in two years after, 
 Were they at wars : It is but eight years, since 
 This Percy was the man nearest my soul ; 
 Who like a brother toil'd in my affairs, 
 And laid his love and life under my foot ; 
 Yea, for my sake, even to the eyes of Richard, 
 Gave him defiance. But which of you was by, 
 (You, cousin Nevil, as I may remember,) 
 
 [To Warwick. 
 
 (1) Noise. (2^ Those in lowly situations. 
 
 When Richard, with his eye orimfull of tears, 
 Then check'd and rated by Northumberland, 
 Did speak these words, now prov'd a prophecy ? 
 Northumberland, thou ladder, by the which 
 My cousin Bolingbroke ascends my throne; 
 Though then, heaven knows, I had no such intent ; 
 But that necessity so bow'd the state, 
 That I and greatness were compell'd to kiss ; 
 The time shall come, thus did he follow it, 
 The time will come, thai foul sin, gathering head t 
 Shall break into corruption : so went on, 
 Foretelling this same time's condition, 
 And the division of our amity. 
 
 Jfar. There is a history in all men's lives, 
 Figuring the nature of the times deceas'd : 
 The which observ'd, a man may prophesy, 
 With a near aim. of the main chance of things 
 As yet not come to life ; which in their seeds, 
 And weak beginnings,^aontreasured. 
 Such things DecometjHEtch and brood of time ; 
 And, by the necessary form of this, 
 King Richard might create a perfect guess, 
 
 Northumberland, then false to him, 
 . Vv ould, of that seed, grow to a greater falseness ; 
 Which should not find a ground to root upon, 
 Unless on you. 
 
 A". Hen. Are these things then necessities ? 
 Then let us meet them like necessities : 
 And that same word even now cries out on us ; 
 They say, the bishop and Northumberland 
 Are fitly thousand strong. 
 
 War. It cannot be, my lord ; 
 
 Rumour doth double, like the voice and echo, 
 The numbers of the fear'd : Please it your grace, 
 To go to bed : upon my life, my lord, 
 The powers that you already have sent forth, 
 Shall bring this prize in very easily. 
 To comfort you the more, I have receiv'd 
 i A certain instance, that Glendower is dead. 
 ' Your majesty hath been this fortnight ill ; 
 And these unseason'd hours, perforce, must add 
 Unto vour sickness. 
 
 A". Hen. I will take your counsel : 
 
 And, were these inward wars once out of hand, 
 We would, dear lords, unto the Holy Land. [Exe. 
 
 SCENE II. Court before Justice Shallow's house, 
 in Gloucestershire. Enter Shallow and Silence, 
 meeting; Mouldy, Shadow, Wart, Feeble, Bull- 
 calf, and servants, behind. 
 
 Shal. Come on, come on, come on ; give me your 
 hand, sir, give me your hand, sir : an early stirrer, 
 by the rood. 3 And how doth my good cousin, Si- 
 lence ? 
 
 Sil. Good morrow, good cousin Shallow. 
 
 Shal. And how doth my cousin, your bed-fellow ? 
 and your fairest daughter, and mine, my god-daugh- 
 ter Ellen ? 
 
 Sil. Alas, a black ouzel, cousin Shallow. 
 
 Shal. By yea and nay, sir, I dare say, my cousin 
 William is become a good scholar : He is at Ox- 
 ford still, is he not ? 
 
 Sil. Indeed, sir, to my cost. 
 
 Shal. He must then to the inns of courts shortly: 
 I was once of Clement's-lnn ; where, I think, they 
 will talk of mad Shallow yet. 
 
 Sil. You were called lusty Shallow, then, 
 cousin. 
 
 Shal. By the mass, I was called any thing; and 
 I would have done any thing, indeed, and roundly 
 too. There was I, and little John Doit of Stafford- 
 shire, and black George Bare, and Francis PickbonCj 
 
 (3) Cross.
 
 424 
 
 SECOND PART OF KING HENRY IV. 
 
 Act 111. 
 
 and Will Squele, a Cotswold man, you had nottsir John. Give me your good hand, give me your 
 four such swing-bucklers' in all the inns of court worship's good hand: By my troth, you look well, 
 
 again : and 1 may say to you, we knew where the 
 
 bona-robas" were ; and had the best of them all at John. 
 
 UUUO.-I UUttO rr*41 j UI1U lldU Lilt. Ut-OL Ul Llli^llA U.l U.L 
 
 commandment. Then was Jack Falstaffi now sir 
 John, a boy ; and page to Thomas Mowbray, duke 
 of Norfolk. 
 
 Sil. This sir John, cousin, that comes hither anon 
 about soldiers ? 
 
 Shal. The same sir John, the very same. I saw 
 him break Skogan's head at the court-gate, when 
 he was a crack, 3 not thus high : and the very same 
 day did I fight with one Sampson Stockfish, a fruit- 
 erer, behind Gray's-Inn. O, the mad-days that I 
 have spent ! and to see how many of mine old ac- 
 quaintances are dead ! 
 
 Sil. We shall all follow, cousin. 
 
 Shal. Certain, 'tis certain-; very sure, very sure: 
 death, as the Psalmist saith, is certain to all ; all 
 shall die. How a good yoke of bullocks at Stam- 
 ford fair ? 
 
 Sil. Truly, cousin, I was not there. 
 
 Shal. Death is certain. Is old Double of your 
 town living yet ? 
 
 Sil. Dead, sir. 
 
 Shal. Dead ! See, see ! he drew a good bow ; 
 And dead ! he shot a fine shoot : John of Gaunt 
 loved him well, and betted much money on his 
 head. Dead! he would have clapped i'the clout 
 at twelve score ;* and carried you a forehand shaft 
 a fourteen and fourteen and a half, that it would 
 have done a man's heart good to see. How a score 
 of ewes now? 
 
 Sil. Thereafter as they be : a score of good ewes 
 may be worth ten pounds. 
 
 Shal. And is old Double dead? 
 
 Enter Bardolph, and one with him. 
 
 Sil. Here come two of sir John FalstafPs men, 
 as I think. 
 
 Bard. Good morrow, honest gentlemen : I be- 
 seech you, which is justice Shallow ? 
 
 Shot. I am Robert Shallow, sir ; a poor esquire 
 of this county, and one of the king's justices of the 
 peace : What is your good pleasure with me ? 
 
 Bard. My captain, sir, commends him to you : 
 my captain, sir John Falstafl': a tall 5 gentleman, 
 by heaven, and a most gallant leader. 
 
 Shal. He greets irie well, sir ; I knew him a 
 good backsword man : How doth the good knight? 
 may I ask, how my lady his wife doth ? 
 
 Bard. Sir, pardon ; a soldier is better accommo- 
 dated, than with a wife. 
 
 Shal. It is well said, in faith, sir ; and it is well 
 said, indeed, too. Better accommodated ! it is 
 good ; yea, indeed, it is : good phrases are surely, 
 and ever were, very commendable. Accommo- 
 dated! il comes from accommodo.: very good ; a 
 good phrase. 
 
 Bard. Pardon me, sir ; I have heard the word. 
 Phrase, call you it? By this good day, I know not 
 the phrase : but I will maintain the word with my 
 sword, to be a soldier-like word, and a word of ex- 
 ceeding good command. Accommodated ; that is, 
 when a man is, as they say, accommodated : or, 
 when a man is, being, whereby, he may be 
 thought to be accommodated ; which is an excellent 
 thing. 
 
 Enter Falstaff. 
 
 Shal. It is yery just : Look, here comes good 
 
 (1J Rakes, or rioters. 
 (2) Ladies of pleasure. 
 
 (3) Boy. 
 
 and bear your years very well : welcome, good sir 
 
 In faith, well eaid, sir John ; very well said. 
 Fal. Prick him. [To Sh 
 
 Fal. I am glad to see you well, good master 
 Robert Shallow: Master Sure-card, as I think. 
 
 Shal. No, sir John ; it is my cousin Silence, in 
 commission with me. 
 
 Fal. Good master Silence, it well befits you 
 should be of the peace. 
 
 Sil. Your good worship is welcome. 
 
 Fal. Fie ! this is hot weather. Gentlemen, 
 
 have you provided me here half a dozen sufficient 
 
 men/ 
 
 . Shal. Marry, have we, sir. Will you sit ? 
 
 Fal. Let me see them, I beseech you. 
 
 Shal. Where's the roll ? where's the roll ? where's 
 the roll ? Let me see, let me see. So, so, so, so : 
 Yea, marry, sir: Ralph Mouldy: let them ap- 
 pear as I call ; let them do so, let them do so. 
 Let me see ; Where is Mouldy ? 
 
 Aloitl. Here, an't please you. 
 
 Shal. What think you, sir John ? a good-limbed 
 ellow: young, strong, and of good friends. 
 >m Fed. Is thy name Mouldy? 
 
 Moid. Yea, an't please you. 
 
 Fal. 'Tis the more time thou wert used. 
 
 Shal. Ha, ha, ha ! most excellent, i'faith ! things 
 that are mouldy, lack use : Very singular good ! 
 
 f~ j'.,:.i. ...._ii :j _: T_I 11 S 
 
 Shallow. 
 
 Moid. I was pricked well enough before, an you 
 could have let me alone : my old dame will be un- 
 done now, for one to do her husbandry, and her 
 drudgery : you need not to have pricked me ; there 
 are other men fitter to go out than I. 
 
 Fal. Go to ; peace, Mouldy, you shall go. Moul- 
 dy, it is time you were spent. 
 
 Moid. Spent! 
 
 Shal. Peace, fellow, peace ; stand aside ; Know 
 yoq where you are ? For the other, sir John : let 
 me see ; Simon Shadow ! 
 
 Fal. Ay marry, let me have him to sit under : 
 he's like to be a cold soldier. 
 
 Shal. Where's Shadow ? 
 
 Shad. Here, sir. 
 
 Fal. Shadow, whose son art thou ? 
 
 Shad. My mother's son, sir. 
 
 Fal. Thy mother's son ! like enough ; and thy 
 father's shadow: so the son of the female is the 
 shadow of the male : It is often so, indeed ; but 
 not much of the father's substance. 
 
 Shal. Do you like him, sir John ? 
 
 Fal. Shadow will serve for summer, prick him ; 
 for we have a number of shadows to fill up the 
 muster-book. 
 
 Shal. Thomas Wart ! 
 
 Fal. Where's he ? 
 
 Wart. Here, sir. 
 
 Fal. Is thy name Wart? 
 
 Wart. Yea, sir. 
 
 Fal. Thou art a very ragged wart. 
 
 Shal. Shall I prick him, sir John ? 
 
 Fal. It were superfluous ; for his apparel is built 
 upon his hack, and the whole frame stands upon 
 pins : prick him no more. 
 
 Shal. Ha, ha, ha ! you can do it ? sir ; you can 
 do it .- I commend you well. Francis Feeble ! 
 
 Fee. Here, sir. 
 
 Fal. What trade art thou, Feeble ? 
 
 Fee. A woman's tailor, sir. 
 
 (4) Hit the white mark at twelve score yards. 
 
 (5) Brave.
 
 Scene II. 
 
 SECOND PART OF KING HENRY IV. 
 
 425 
 
 Shal. Shall I prick him, sir ? I Bull. Good master corporate Bardolph, stand 
 
 Fal. You may : but if he had been a man's tailor, ! my friend ; and here is four Harry ten shillings in 
 
 he would have pricked you. Wilt thou make as 
 tuany holes in an enemy's battle, as thou hast done 
 in a woman's petticoat ? 
 
 Fee. I will do my good will, sir ; you can have 
 no more. 
 
 Fal. Well said, good woman's tailor ! well said, 
 courageous Feeble ! Thou wilt be as valiant as the 
 wrathful dove, or most magnanimous mouse. 
 Prick the woman's tailor well, master Shallow; 
 deep, master Shallow. 
 
 Fee. I would, Wart might have gone, sir. 
 
 Fal. I would, thou wert a man's tailor ; that thou 
 might'st mend him, and make him fit to go. I can- 
 not put him to a private soldier, that is the leader 
 of so many thousands: Let that suffice, most for- 
 cible Feeble. 
 
 Fee . It shall suffice, sir. 
 
 Fal. I am bound to thee, rererend Feeble. 
 Who is next ? 
 
 Shal. Peter Bull-calf of the 
 
 Fal. Yea, marry, let us see 
 
 Bull. Here, sir. 
 
 Fal. 'Fore God, a likely fellow ! Come, p 
 the Bull-calf, till he roar again. 
 
 Bull. O lord ! good my ford captain. 
 
 Fed. What, dost thou roar before thou art pricked? 
 
 Bull. O lord, sir ! I am a diseased man. 
 
 Fal. What disease hast thou ? 
 
 Bull. A whoreson cold, sir; a cough, sir; which 
 1 caught with ringing in the king's affairs, upon his 
 coronation day, sir. 
 
 Fal. Come, thou shall 20 to the wars in a gown ; 
 ive will have away thy cold ; and I will take such 
 
 jreen ! 
 Jull-calf. 
 
 order, that thy friends shall ring for thee. Is here 
 all ? 
 
 Shal. Here is two more called than your num- 
 ber ; you must have but four here, sir ; and so, I 
 pray you, go in with me to dinner. 
 
 Fal. Come, I will go drink with you, but I can- 
 not tarry dinner. I am glad to see you, in good 
 troth, master Shallow. 
 
 Shal. O, sir John, do you remernber since we 
 lay all night in the windmill in St. George's-fields ? 
 
 Fal. No more of that, good master Shallow, no 
 more of that. 
 
 Shal. Ha, it was a merry night. And is Jane 
 Night- work alive ? 
 
 Fal. She lives, master Shallow. 
 
 Slutl. She never could away with me. 
 
 Fal. Never, never : she would always say, she 
 could not abide master Shallow. 
 
 Shal. By the mass, I could anger her to the 
 
 French crowns for you. In very truth, sir, F had 
 as lief be hanged, sir, as go : and yet, for mine 
 own part, sir, I do not care ; but, rather, because 
 I am unwilling, and, for mine own part, have a de- 
 sire to stay with my friends ; else, sir, I did not care, 
 for mine own part, so much. 
 
 Bard. Go to ; stand aside. 
 
 JWmd. And, good master corporal captain, for 
 my old dame's sake, stand my friend : she has no- 
 body to do any thing about her, when I am gone : 
 and she is old, and cannot help herself: you shall % 
 have forty, sir. 
 
 Bard. Go to ; stand aside. . 
 
 Fee. By my troth, I care not ; a man can die 
 but once ; we owe God a death ; I'll ne'er bear 
 a base mind : an't be my destiny, s^ an't be 
 not, so: No man's toj^pod to s< -rve his prince; 
 
 and, let it go whic 
 
 will, he that dies this 
 
 year, is quit for tiie i 
 Bard. Well said ; thou'rt a good fellow, 
 th, I'll bear no base mind. 
 
 Re-enter Falstaff, and Justices. 
 
 F(d. Come, sir, which men shall I hare ? 
 
 Shal. Four, of which you please. 
 
 Bard. Sir, a word with you : I have three pound 
 to free Mouldy and Bull-calf. 
 
 Fal. Go to ; well. 
 
 Shal. Come, sir John, which four will you hate ? 
 
 Fal. Do you choose for me. 
 
 Shal. Marry then, Mouldy, Bull-calf, Feeble, 
 and Shadow. ' 
 
 Fal. Mouldy, and Bull-calf: For you, Mouldy, 
 stay at home still ; you are past service : and, for 
 your part, Bull-calf grow till you come unto it ; 
 I will none of you. 
 
 Shal. Sir John, sir John, do not yourself wrong : 
 they are your likeliest men, and I would have you 
 served with the best. 
 
 Fal. Will you tell me, master Shallow, how to 
 choose a man ? Care I for the limb, the thewes, the 
 stature, bulk, and big assemblance of a man ! Give 
 me the spirit, master Shallow. Here's Wart; 
 you see what a rasrged appearance it is : he shall 
 charge you, and discharge you, with the motion of 
 a pewterer's hammer ; come off, and on, swifter 
 than he that gibbets-on the brewer's bucket. And 
 this same half-fac'd fellow, Shadow, give me this 
 man : he presents no mark to the enemy : the foe- 
 man 1 may with as <jreat aim level at the edge of a 
 pen-knife : And, for a retreat, how swiftly will 
 this Feeble, the woman's tailor, run off! O, give 
 
 heart. She was then a bona-roba. Doth she holdjme the spare men, and spare me the jgreat ones. 
 her own well ? 
 
 Fa!. Old, old, master Shallow. 
 Shal. Nav, she must be old ; she cannot choose 
 1 ' '* ' ' ' Robin 
 
 but be old ; certain, she's old ; and had 
 Nisrht-work by old Night-work, before I came to 
 Clement's-Inn. 
 
 Sil. That's fifty-five year a-o. 
 
 Shal. Ha, cousin Silence, that thou hadst seen 
 that that this knight and I have seen! Ha, sir 
 John, said I well ? 
 
 Fal. We have heard the chimes at midnight, 
 master Shallow. 
 
 Shal. That we have, that we have, that we have ; 
 in faith, sir John, we have ; our watch-word was, 
 Hem, boys ! Come, let's to dinner ; come, let's 
 to dinner: O, the days that we have seen! 
 Cume, come. [Exe. Falstaff, Shallow, and Silence. 
 
 (1) Enemy. (2) Gun. (3) March. 
 
 Put me a caliver 2 into Wart's hand, Bardolph. 
 
 Bard. Hold, Wart, traverse ; 3 thus, thus, thus. 
 
 Fal. Come, manage me your caliver. So: very 
 well: go to: very good: exceeding good. O, 
 live me always a little, lean, old, chapped, bald 
 shot.* Well said, i'faith, Wart ; thou art a good 
 scab : hold, there's a tester for thee. 
 
 Shal. He is not his craft's-master, he doth not do 
 it right. I remember at Mile-end green (when I 
 lay at Clement's-Inn, I was then sir Daconet, in 
 Arthur's show, 4 ) there was a little quiver fellow, 
 :ind 'a would manage you his piece thus: and 'a 
 would about, and about, and come you in, and 
 come you in : rah, tak, tah, would 'a say ; bounce. 
 ivould 'a say ; and away again would 'a go, and 
 asain would 'a come: I shall never see such & 
 fellow. 
 
 (4) Shooter. (5) An exhibition of archer j . 
 3H
 
 426 
 
 SECOND PART OF KING HENRY IV. 
 
 Fal. These fellows will do well, master Shal- As might hold sortance* with his quality, 
 low. God keep you, master Silence ; I will not The which he could not levy ; whereupon 
 use many words with you: Fare you well, gentle- He is retir'd, to ripe his growing fortunes, 
 men both : I thank you : I must a dozen mile to- To Scotland : and concludes in hearty prayers, 
 ni^ht Bardolph, give the soldiers coats. I That your attempts may overlive the hazard, 
 
 Shal. Sir John, heaven bless you, and prosper I And 1 fearful meeting of their opposite, 
 your affairs, and send us peace ! As you return, Mowb. Thus do the hopes we have in him touch 
 Visit my house ; let our old acquaintance be re- 
 
 lusuces : i uo see me uouom ui JUSMVO ouauun-i 
 Lord, lord, how subject we old men ore to this 
 vice of lying ! This sumo starved justice hath done 
 
 uewed : peradventurc, I will with you to the court. 
 
 Fal. I would you would, master Shallow. 
 
 Shal. Go to ; "I have spoke, at a word. Fare you 
 well. [Exeunt Shallow and Silence. 
 
 Fal. Fare you well, gentle gentlemen. On, Bar- 
 dolph ; lead the men away. [Exeunt Bardolph, 
 Recruits, fyc.] As I return, I will fetch off these 
 justices : I do see the bottom of Justice Shallow. 
 L. 
 
 vice of 1, 
 
 nothing but pnite to me cl' the wildness of his 
 youth, and the i'eats lie hath done about Turnbull- 
 street; 1 and every third won! a lie, duer paid to 
 the hearer than the Turk's tribute. I do remem- 
 ber him at Clement's-Inn, like a man mail 
 supper of a cheese-paring : when he was naked, he 
 was. for all the world, like a forked radish, v.-ii.h a 
 head fantastically carved upon it with a~knife : he 
 was so forlorn, that his dimensions to any thick 
 sight were invisible: he was the very genius of 
 famine ; yet lecherous as a monkey, and the whores 
 called him mandrake: he came'ever in the rear- 
 ward of the fashion ; and sung those tunes to the 
 over-scutched huswives that he heard the carmen 
 whistle, and sware they were his fancies, or his 
 good-nights. 2 And now is this Vice's dagger 3 be- 
 come a squire ; and talks as familiarly of John of 
 Gaunt, as if he had been sworn brother to him: 
 and I'll be sworn he never saw him but once in the 
 Tilt-yard ; and then he burst 4 his head, for crowd- 
 ing amontr the marshal's men. I saw it ; and told 
 John of Gaunt, he beat his own name:-' 1 lor you 
 might have truss'd him, and all his apparel, into' ati 
 eel-skin ; the case of a treble hautboy was a man- 
 sion for him, a court; and now has he land and 
 
 West. 
 
 Unto your grac 
 
 beeves. Well ; I will be acquainted with him, if Whose white investments figure innocence, 
 
 I return : and it shall go hard, but I will make him 
 a philosopher's two stones to me : If the young dace 
 be a bait for the old pike, I see no reason, in the 
 law of N nature, but I may snap at him. Let time 
 
 shape, and there an end. 
 
 [Exit. 
 
 ACT IV. 
 
 SCENE I. A forest in Yorkshire. Enfer the 
 archbishop of York, Mowbray, Hastings, and 
 others. 
 
 Arch. What is this forest call'd 1 
 
 Hast. 'Tis Gualtree forest, an't shall please 
 your grace. 
 
 Arch. "Here stand, my lords ; and send disco- 
 verers forth, 
 To know the numbers of our enemies. 
 
 Hast. We have sent forth alreadv. 
 
 Arch. 
 
 'Tis well done. 
 
 My friends, and brethren in these great affairs, 
 I must acquaint you that 1 have receiv'd 
 New-dated letters from Northumberland ; 
 Their cold intent, tenour and substance, thus: 
 Here doth he wish his person, with such powers 
 
 (1) In Clcrkenwell. (2) Titles of little poems. 
 
 (3) A wooden dagger like that used by the 
 
 modern harlequin. 
 
 ground, 
 And dash themselves to pieces. 
 
 Enter a Messenger. 
 
 Hast. Now, what netvs ? 
 
 Mess. West of this forest, scarcely off a mile, 
 In goodly form comes on the enemy : 
 And, by the ground they hide, I judge their number, 
 Upon, 'or near, the rate of thirty thousand. 
 
 Mowb. The just proportion that we gave them 
 
 out. 
 Let us sway en, and face them in the field. 
 
 Enter Westmoreland. 
 Arch. What well-appointed' leader fronts us 
 
 here? 
 
 Mowb. I think, ifcis my lord of Westmoreland. 
 West. Health and fair greeting from our general, 
 prince, lord John and duke of Lancaster. 
 
 Say on, my lord of Westmoreland, in 
 peace ; 
 What doih concern your coming ? 
 
 Then, my lord, 
 .10 I in chief address 
 
 The substance of my speech. If that rebellion 
 Came like itself, in base and abject routs, 
 Led on by bloody youlli, guarded with rage, 
 And countenanc'd by boys, and beggary ; 
 I say, if damn'd commotion so appear'd, 
 In his true, native, and most proper shape, 
 You, reverend father, and these noble lords, 
 Had not been here, to dress the ugly form 
 Of base and bloody insurrection 
 With your fair honours. You, lord archbishop, 
 Whose see is by a civil peace maintain'd ; 
 Whose beard the silver hand cf peace hath touch'd ; 
 Whose learning and good letters peace hath tutor'd ; 
 
 The dove and very blessed spirit of peace,- 
 Wherefore do you so ill translate yourself, 
 Out of the speech of p_eace, that bears such grace, 
 Into the harsh and boist'rous tongue of war >. 
 Turning your books to graves, your ink to blood, 
 Your pens to lances ; and your tongue divine 
 To a loud trumpet, and a point of war ? 
 Arch. Wherefore do I this? so the question 
 
 stands. 
 
 Briefly to this end : We are all diseas'd ; 
 And, with our surfeiting, and wanton hours, 
 Have brought ourselves into a burning fever, 
 And we must bleed for it : of which disease 
 Our late king, Richard, being infected, died. 
 But, my most noble lord of Westmoreland, 
 I take not on me here as a physician ; 
 Nor do I as an enemy to peace, 
 
 men ; 
 
 'earful war, 
 
 To diet rank minds, sick of happiness : 
 And purge the obstructions, which begin to stop 
 Our very veins of life. Hear me more plainly. 
 I have in equal balance justly weigh'd 
 What wroncrs our arms may do, what wrongs we 
 
 suffer, 
 And find our griefs 3 heavier than our offences. 
 
 Troop in the throngs of military ! 
 But, rather, show awhile like fen 
 
 (4) Broke. (5) Gaunt is thin, slender. 
 
 6) Be suitable. (7) Completely accoutred. 
 Grievances. 
 
 \ / 
 
 (8)
 
 Stenel, 
 
 SECOND PART OF KING HENRY IV. 
 
 nmotion's bitter cuire ? Sajgfou not then, our offer is compell'd. 
 
 r general, the commonwealth^ . 'Onotcfi. Well, by my will, we shall admit 
 
 lousehokl cruelty, parley. 
 
 We see which way the stream of time doth run, 
 
 And are enforc'd trom our most quiet sphere 
 
 By the rough torrent of occasion : 
 
 And have the summary of all our griefs, 
 
 When time shall serve, to show in articles ; 
 
 Which, lone ere this, we offcr'd to the king, 
 
 And might oy no suit gain our audience : 
 
 When we are wronir'd, and would unfold our griefs, 
 
 We are denied access unto his person, 
 
 Even by those men that most have done us wrong 
 
 The, dangers of the days but newly pone, 
 
 (Whose memory is written on the earth 
 
 With yet appearing blood,) and the examples 
 
 Of every minute's instance, (present now,) 
 
 Have put us in these ill-beseeming ;;rm-> .- 
 
 Not to break peace, or any branch o;' i; ; 
 
 But to establish here a peace indeed, 
 
 Concurring both in name and quality. 
 
 West. When ever yet was your appeal denied ? 
 Wherein have you been Called by (he king ? 
 What peer hath been s;:born'd to grate on you ? 
 That you should seal this lawless bloody book 
 Of forg'd rebellion with a seal divine, 
 And consecrate commotion's bitter edge ? 
 
 .Irch. My brother 
 To brother born a hous 
 I make my quarrel in particular. 
 
 Wes!. There is no need of any such redress; 
 Or, if thero were, it not belongs to you. 
 
 Afoipfr. Why not to him, in part : and to us all, 
 That feel the bruises of the days before ; 
 And suffer the condition of these times 
 To lay a heavy and unequal hand 
 Upon'our honours ? 
 
 West. O my good lord Mowhray, 
 
 Construe the times to their necessities, 
 And you shall say indeed, it is the time, 
 And not the king, that doth you injuries. 
 Yet, for your part, it not appears to me ; 
 Either from the king, or in the present time, 
 That you should have an inch of any ground 
 To build a grief on : Were you not restor'd 
 To all the duke of Norfolk's signiories, 
 Your noble and right-well-remember'd father's ? 
 
 .Moirb. What thing, in honour, had my father lost, 
 That need to be reviv'd, and breath'd in me ? 
 The king, that lov'd him, as the state stood then, 
 Was, force perforce, compell'd to banish him : 
 And then, when Harry Bolinc-broke, and he, 
 Being mounted, and both rous'd in their seats, 
 Their neighing coursers daring of the spur, 
 Thejr armed staves' in charge, their beavers 2 down, 
 Tiieir eyes of fire sparkling 'Arough sights 3 of steel, 
 And the loud trumpet blowing them together ; 
 
 Cried hate upon him ; and all their prayers, and 
 
 love, 
 
 Were set on Hereford, whom they doted on, 
 And bless'd, and jrrac'd indeed, more than the king. 
 But this is mere digression from my purpose. 
 Here come I from our princely general, 
 To know your griefs ; to tell you from his grace, 
 That he will give you audience : and wherein 
 It shall appear that your demands are just, 
 You shall enjoy them ; every thing set off, 
 That might so much as think you enemies. 
 Jtfotcb. But he hath forc'd us to compel this 
 
 offer: 
 And it proceeds from policy, not love. 
 
 West. Mowbrav, you overween, 4 to take it so ; 
 This offer comes from mercy, not irom fear : 
 For, lo ! within a ken, 5 our army lies ; 
 Upon mine honour, all too confident ^^^__^^^_ 
 To give admittance t^^ipught of fear. 
 
 ; han yours, 
 in the use of arms, 
 112, our cause the best ; 
 hearts should be as good : 
 
 Our battle is more u 
 Our men I 
 Our armoy 
 
 Ti.. :i reasc 
 
 S; 
 
 West. That argues but the shame of your offence : 
 A rot-rn rase abides no handling. 
 
 Hast. Hath the prince John a full commission, 
 In very ample virtue of his father, 
 To hear, and absolutely to determine 
 Of what conditions we shall stand upon ? 
 
 West. That is intended' in the general's name : 
 I muse, 8 vou make so sliorht a question. 
 
 3rcA. Then take, my lord of Westmoreland, this 
 
 schedule ;' 
 
 For this contains our general grievances : 
 Each several article herein redress'd ; 
 All members of our cause, both here and hence, 
 That are insinew'd to this action, 
 Acquitted by a true substantial form : 
 And present execution of our wills 
 To us, and to our purposes, consign'd ; 
 We come within our awful banks 10 again, 
 And kn' our powers to the arm of peace. 
 
 West. This will I show the general. Please you, 
 
 lords, 
 
 In sight of both our battles we may meet : 
 And either end in peace, which heaven so frame ! 
 Or to the place of difference call the swords 
 Which must decide it. 
 
 Arch. My lord, we will do so. 
 
 [Exit West. 
 
 Mowb. There is a thing within my bosom, tells me, 
 
 Then, then,when there was noThing could have'staid That no conditions of our peace can stand. 
 
 My father from the breast of Bolingbroke, 
 O, when the king did throw his warder* down 
 His own life hung upon the staff he threw_: 
 Then threw he down himself; and all their lives, 
 That, by indictment, and by dint of sword, 
 Have since miscarried under Bolingbroke. 
 
 West. You speak, lord Mowbray, now you know 
 
 not what : 
 
 The earl of Hereford was reputed then 
 In England the most valiant gentleman ; 
 Who knows, on whom fortune would then have 
 
 smil'd ? 
 
 5ut, if your father had been victor there, 
 He ne'er had borne it out of Coventry : 
 For all the country, in a general voice, 
 
 (1) Lances. (-2) Helmets. 
 
 (3) The eye-holes of helmets. 
 (5) Think too highly. 
 
 (4) Truncheon. 
 (6) Sight. 
 
 Hast. Fear you not that : if we can make our 
 
 peace 
 
 Upon such iarge terms, and so absolute, 
 As our conditions shall consist upon, 
 Our peace shall stand as firm as rocky mountains. 
 
 JVIaicfr. Ay. but our valuation shall be such, 
 That every slight and false-derived cause, 
 Yea, every idle, nice, 11 and wanton reason, 
 Shall, to the king, taste of this action : 
 That, were our royal faiths 12 martyrs in Jove, 
 We shall be winnow'd with so rough a wind, 
 That even our corn shall seem as light as chaff, 
 And pood from bad find no partition. 
 
 drch. No, no, my lord ; Note this, the king it 
 weary 
 
 (7) Understood. (8) Wonder. (9) Inventory. 
 
 (10) Proper limits of reverence. 
 
 (11) Trival. (12) The faith due to a king.
 
 428 
 
 SECOND PART OF KING HENRY IV. 
 
 Of dainty and such picking 1 grievances : 
 
 For he hath found, to end one doubt by death, 
 
 Revives two greater in the heirs of life. 
 
 And therefore will he wipe his tables 2 clean ; 
 
 And keep no tell-tale to his memor} r , 
 
 That may repeat and history his loss 
 
 To new remembrance : For full well he knows, 
 
 He cannot so precisely weed this land, 
 
 As his misdoubts present occasion : 
 
 His foes are so enrooted with his friends, 
 
 That, plucking to unfix an enemy, 
 
 He doth unfasten so, and shake a friend. 
 
 So that this land, like an offensive wife, 
 
 That hath enrag'd him on to offer strokes ; 
 
 As he is striking, holds his infant up, 
 
 And hangs resolv'd correction in the arm 
 
 That was uprear'd to execution. 
 
 Hast. Besides, the king hath wasted all his rods 
 On late offenders, that he now tioth hick 
 The very instruments of cli:is f i .-; ;:"iit: 
 So that his power, like to a fangless iion, 
 May offer, but not hold. 
 
 Arch. 'Tis very true ; 
 
 And therefore be assur'd, my good lord marshal, 
 If we do now make our atonement well, 
 Our peace will, like a broken limb united, 
 Grow stronger for the breaking. 
 
 Mowb. Be it so. 
 
 Here is return'd my lord of Westmoreland. 
 
 Re-enter Westmoreland. 
 
 West. The prince is here at hand : Pleaselh your 
 
 lordship, 
 
 To meet his grace just distance 'tween our armies ? 
 Mowb. Your grace of York, in god's name then 
 
 set forward. 
 Jlrch. Before, and greet his grace : my lord, 
 
 we come. [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE II. Another part of the forest. Enter 
 from one side. Mowbray, the Archbishop, Hast- 
 ings, and olliens ; from the other side, Prince 
 John of Lancaster, Westmoreland, officers, and 
 attendants. 
 
 P. John. You are well encounter'd here, my 
 
 cousin Mowbray : 
 
 Good day to you, gentle lord archbishop ; 
 And so to you, lord Hastings, and to all. 
 My lord of York, it better show'd with you, 
 When that your flock, assembled by the bell, 
 Encircled y-ou, to hear with reverence 
 Your exposition on the holy text ; 
 Than now to sec you here an iron man, 3 
 Cheering a rout of rebels with your drum, 
 Turning the word to sword, and life to death. 
 That man, that sits within a monarch's heart, 
 And ripens in the sunshine of his favour, 
 Would he abuse the countenance of the king, 
 Alack, what mischiefs might he set abroach, 
 In shadow of such greatness! With you, lord bishop, 
 It. is even so : Who hath not heard it spoken, 
 How deep you were within the books of God ? 
 To us, the speaker in his parliament ; 
 To us, the imagin'd voice of God himself; 
 The very opener, and intelligencer, 
 Between the grace, the sanctities of heaven, 
 And our dull workings:* O, who shall believe, 
 But you misuse the reverence of your place ; 
 Employ the countenance and grace of heaven, 
 As a false favourite doth his prince's name, 
 
 (1) Piddling, insignificant. 
 
 (2) Book for memorandums. 
 
 (3) Clad iu armour. (4) Labours of thought. 
 
 In deeds dishonourable ? You have taken up,* 
 Under the counterfeited zeal of God, 
 The subjects of his substitute, my father ; 
 And, both against the peace of heaven and him, 
 Have here up-swarm'd them. 
 
 Jlrch. Good my lord of Lancaster, 
 
 I am not here against your father's peace : ' 
 But, as I told my lord of Westmoreland, 
 The time misorder'd doth, in common sense, 
 Crowd us, and crush us, to this monstrous form, 
 To hold our safely up. I sent your grace 
 The parcels and particulars of our grief; 
 The which hath been with scorn shov'd from the 
 
 court, 
 
 Whereon this Hydra son of war is born : 
 Whose dangerous eyes may well be charm'd asleep, 
 With grant of our most just and right desires ; 
 And true obedience of this madness cur'd, ' 
 Stoop tamely to the foot of majesty. 
 
 Mowb. If not, we ready are to'try our fortunes 
 To the last man. 
 
 Hast. And though we here fall down : 
 
 We-have supplies to second our attempt ; 
 If they miscarry, theirs shall second them : 
 4*ri so, success 6 of mischief shall be born; 
 And heir from heir shall hold this quarrel up, 
 Whiles England shall have generation. 
 
 P. John.iou are too shallow, Hastings, much 
 
 too shallow, 
 To sound the bottom of the after-times. 
 
 West. Pleaseth your grace, to answer them 
 
 directly, 
 How far forth you do like their articles ? 
 
 P. John. I 'like them all, and do allow' them 
 
 well : 
 
 And swear here by the honour of my blood, 
 My father's purposes have been mistook ; 
 And some about him have too lavishly 
 Wrested his meaning, and authority. 
 My lord, these griefs shall be with speed redress'd , 
 Upon my soul, they shall. If this may please you, 
 Discharge vour powers 8 unto their several coun- 
 ties, 
 
 As we will ours : and here, between the armies, 
 Let's drink together friendly, and embrace ; 
 That all their eyes may bear those tokens home, 
 Of our restored love, and amity. 
 
 Jlrch. I take your princely word for these re- 
 dresses. 
 
 P. John. I give it you, and will maintain my 
 
 word : 
 And thereupon I drink unto your grace. 
 
 Hast. Go, captain, [To on officer.] and deliver 
 
 to the army 
 
 This news of peace ; let them have pnv, and part ; 
 I know, it will well please them : Hie thee, cap- 
 tain. [Evit Officer. 
 
 Jlrch. To you, my noble lord of Westmoreland. 
 
 West. I pledge your grace: And, if you knew 
 
 what pains > 
 
 I have bestow'd, to breed this present peace, 
 You would drink freely : but my love to you 
 Shall show itself more openly hereafter. 
 
 Jlrch. I do not doubt you. 
 
 Wf.it. I am glad of it. 
 
 Health to my lord, and gentle cousin, Mowbray. 
 
 Mowb. You wish me health in very happy sea- 
 
 son ; 
 For I am, on the sudden, something ill. 
 
 Jlrch. Against ill chances, men are ever merry ; 
 But heaviness foreruns the good event. 
 
 (5) Raised in arms. 
 (7) Approve. 
 
 (6) Succession. 
 (8) Forces.
 
 
 Seme ///. 
 
 SECOND PART OF KING HENRY IV. 
 
 429 
 
 West. Therefore be merry, coz ; since sudden 
 
 sorrow 
 
 Serves to say thus, Some good thing comes to- 
 morrow. 
 
 Jirch. Believe me, I am passing light in spirit. 
 Jtiowb. So much the worse, if your own rule be 
 true. f Shouts within. 
 
 P. John. The word of peace is render'd ; Hark, 
 
 how they shout ! 
 
 J\Imnb. This had been cheerful, after victory. 
 Jlrch. A peace is of the nature of a conquest ; 
 For then both parties nobly are subdued, 
 And neither party loser. 
 
 P. John. Go, my lord, 
 
 And, let our army be discharged loo. 
 
 [Exit Westmoreland. 
 
 And, good my lord, so please you, let our trains' 
 March by us ; that we may penise the men 
 We should have cop'd withal. 
 
 Jrch. 
 
 Go, good lord Hastings, 
 
 And, ere they be dismiss'd, let them march by. 
 
 [Exit Hastings. 
 
 P. John. I trust, my lords, we shall lie to-night 
 together. 
 
 Re-enter Westmoreland. 
 
 Now, cousin, wherefore stands our army still f 
 West. The leaders, having charge from you to 
 
 stand, 
 
 Will not go off until they hear you speak. 
 P. John. They know their duties. 
 
 Re-enter '. 
 
 Hast. My lord, our armv is dispers'd already : 
 Like youthful steers 2 tmyok'd, they take their 
 
 courses 
 
 East, west, north, south ; or, like a school broke up, 
 
 Each hurries toward his home, and sporting-place. 
 
 West. Good tidings, my lord Hastings ; for the 
 
 which 
 
 I do arrest thee, traitor, of high treason : 
 And you, lord archbishop, andyou,lordMowbray, 
 Of capital treason I attach you both. 
 Mowb. Is this proceeding just and honourable ? 
 West. Is your assembly so ? 
 irch. Will vou thus break your faith ? 
 
 P. John. 
 
 I pawn'd thee none : 
 
 I promis'd you redress of these same grievances, 
 Whereof you did complain ; which, by mine honour, 
 I will perform with a most Christian care. 
 But, for you, rebels, look to taste the due 
 Meet for rebellion, and such acts as yours. 
 Most, shallowly did you these arms commence, 
 Fondly 3 brought here, and foolishly sent hence. 
 Strike up o;ir drums, pursue the scatter'd stray ; 
 Heaven, and not we, hath safely fought to-day. 
 Some guard these traitors to the block of death ; 
 Treason's true bed, and yielder up of breath. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 v 777. inother part of the Forest.- 
 Jilarinns . Excursions. Enlerfa.lsla.S and Cole- 
 vile, meetii: ?. 
 
 Fal. What's your name, sir? of what condition 
 are you ; ai-.d of what place, I pray? 
 
 Cole. I 'tm a knight, sir ; and my name k 
 Colevile of the dale. 
 
 Fal. Wt.ll then, Colevile is your name; a kniirht 
 is your decree; and your place, the dale: Cole- 
 vile shall still be your name ; a traitor your de- 
 gree ; and the dungeon your place, a place deep 
 enough ; so shall you still be Colevile of the dale. 
 
 (11 Each army. (2) Young bullocks. 
 
 Cole. Are not you sir John Falslaff? 
 
 Fal. As good a man as he, sir, whoe'er 1 am. 
 Do ye yield, sir ? or shall I sweat for you ? If I do 
 sweat, they are drops of thy lovers, and they weep 
 for thy death : therefore rouse up fear and trem- 
 
 bling, and do observance to my mercy. 
 Cole. I think, you are sir John Falst 
 
 that thought, yield me. 
 
 tafT; and, in 
 
 Fal. I have a whole school of tongues in this 
 belly of mine; and not a tongue of them all speaks 
 any other word but my name. An 1 had but a 
 belly of any indifferency, I were simply the most 
 active fellow in Europe: My womb, my womb, 
 my womb, undoes me. Here comes our general. 
 
 Enter Prince John of Lancaster, Westmoreland, 
 
 and others. 
 P. John. The heat is past, follow no further 
 
 Call in the powe, 
 
 cousin Westmoreland. 
 [Exit West. 
 
 Now, Falstaff, where have you been all this while? 
 When every thin? is ended, then you come : 
 These tardy tricks of yours will, on my life. 
 One time or other break some gallows' back. 
 
 Fal. I would be sorry, my lord, but it should be 
 thus ; I never knew yet, out rebuke and check was 
 the reward of valour. Do you think me a swallow, 
 an arrow, or a bullet ? have I, in my poor and old 
 motion, the expedition of thought ? I have speeded 
 hither with the very extremes! inch of possibility ; 
 I have foundered nine-score and odd posts : and 
 here, travel-tainted as I am, have, in my pure and 
 immaculate valour, taken sir John Colevile of the 
 dale, a most furious knight, and valorous enemy : 
 But what of that ? he saw me, and yielded ; that 
 1 may justly say with the hook-nosed fellow of 
 Rome," I came, saw, and overcame. 
 
 P. John. It was more of bis courtesy than your 
 deserving. 
 
 Fal. I know not; here he is, and here I yield 
 him : and I beseech your grace, let it be booked 
 with the rest of this day's deeds ; or, by the Lord, 
 I will have it in a particular ballad else^ with mine 
 own picture on the top of it, Colevile kissing my 
 foot : To the which course if I be enforced, if you 
 do not all show like gilt two-pences to me ; ami I, 
 in the clear sky of fame, o'ershine you as much as 
 the full moon doth the cinders of the element, 
 which show like pins' heads to her ; believe not the 
 word of the noble : therefore let me have right, 
 and let desert mount. 
 
 P. John. Thine's too heavy to mount. 
 
 Fal. Let it shine then. 
 
 P. John. Thine's too thick to shine. 
 
 Fal. Let it do something, my good lord, that 
 may do me good, and call it what you will. 
 
 P. John. Is thy name Colevile? 
 
 Cole. It is, my lord. 
 
 P. John. A famous rebel art Ihou, Colevile. 
 
 Fal. And a famous true subject took him. 
 
 Cole. I am, my lord, but as my betters arc, 
 That led me hither : had they been ruled by me, 
 You should have won them dearer than you hare. 
 
 Fal. I know not how they sold themselves : but 
 thou, like a kind fellow, gavest thyself away ; and 
 I thank thee for thee. 
 
 Re-enter Westmoreland. 
 P. John. Now, have vou left pursuit? 
 West. Retreat is made, and execution stay'd. 
 P. John. Send Colevile, with his confederates, 
 
 (3) Foolishly. 
 
 (4) Caesar.
 
 430 
 
 SECOND PART OF KING HENRY 
 
 jict ir. 
 
 To York, to present execution: 
 Blunt, lead him hence ; and see you guard him sure. 
 [Exeunt some with Colevile. 
 And now despatch we toward the court, my 
 
 lords ; 
 
 I hear, the king my father is sore sick : 
 Our news shall y-u before us to his majesty. 
 Which, cousin, you shall bear, to comfort him ; 
 And we with sober speed will follow you. 
 
 Fal. My lord, I beseech you, siivc rne leave to 
 go through Gloster.-;hire : :niii, when you come to 
 
 court, stand my good lord, 1 pray, 
 report. 
 
 in your good 
 
 P. John. Fare you well, FalstafT: I in my con- 
 dition, - 
 Shall better speak of you thr.n you dcser*e. [Exit. 
 
 Fal. I would you had but the wit; 'twere bet- 
 ter than your dukedom. Good faith, this same 
 young sober-blooded boy doth not love me ; r;or a 
 man cannot make him laugh ; liu'. lint's no mar- 
 vel, he drinks no wine. Then ' , mm ri nrof these 
 demure boys come to any proof: for 1 '. 
 so over-cool their blood, and making many tah- 
 ineals, that they fall iito a kind of n-.,i!e greeu-sick- 
 ncss ; and then, when they marry, Jhey get wenches : 
 they are generally fools and cowards ; which 
 some of us_should be too, but for inflammation. A 
 oood sherris-sack hath a two-fold operation in it : 
 ii ascends me into the brain ; dries me there all 
 the foolish, and dull, and crudy vapours which en- 
 veron it : makes it apprehensive, quick, forgetive, 3 
 
 lull of nimble, fiery, and delectable shapes^ which 
 delivered o'er to the voice, (the tongue,) 
 the birth, becomes excellent, wit. The sec 
 
 SCENE JF. Westminster. A room in the 
 palace. Enter King Henry, Clarence, Prince 
 Humphrey, Warwick, and others. 
 K. Hen. Now, lords, if heaven doth give sue 
 
 cessful end 
 
 To this debate that bleedeth at our doors, 
 We will our youth lead on to higher fields, 
 And draw no swords but what are sanctified. 
 Our navy is address'd, 6 our power collected, 
 Our substitutes iu absence well invested, 
 And every thing lies level to our wish : 
 Only, we want a little personal strength ; 
 And" pause us, till these rebels, now afoot, 
 Come underneath the yoke of government. 
 
 War. Both which, we doubt not but your 
 
 majesty 
 Shall soon enjoy. 
 
 A*. lien. Humphrey, my son of Gloster, 
 
 Where is the prince your brother? 
 }'. Humph. I think he's gone to hunt, my lord, 
 
 at Windsor. 
 
 K. Hen. And how accompanied ? 
 P. H'- I do not know, my lord. 
 
 ". Hen. Is not his brother, Thomas of Cla- 
 rence, with him ? 
 -Iicnph. No, my gopd lord ; he is in presence 
 
 here. 
 
 Cla. What would my lord and father ? 
 A". Hen. Nothing but well to thee, Thomas of 
 
 Clarence. 
 
 ow chance, thou art not with the prince thy 
 brother ? 
 
 delivered o'er to the voice, (the tongue,) which is He loves thce, and thou dost neglect him, Thomas; 
 
 and pro- 1 Thou hast a he: (IT place in his affection, 
 
 perty of vour excellent sherds is, '.he warming of j Than all thy brothers: cherish it, my boy ; 
 the blood ; which, before cold and settled, left the! And noble oiaces thou may'st effect 
 liver white and pale, which is the badge of pusilla-JQf mediation, after I am dead, 
 nimity and cowardice : but the. sherris warms it, 
 and makes it course from the inwards to the parts 
 extreme. It illumineth the face ; which, as a bea- 
 con, gives warning to all the rest of this little king- 
 dom, man, to arm : and then the vital commoners, 
 and inland petty spirits, muster me all to their cap- 
 tain, the heart; who, great, and puffed up with 
 this retinue, doth any deed of courage ; and this 
 valour comes of sherris : So that skill La the wea- 
 pon is nothing, without sack ; for that sets it a- 
 work: 
 a devil 
 and use. 
 
 : and learning, a mere hoard of gold kept by 
 il ; till sack commences it, 4 and sets it in act 
 
 ase. Hereof comes it, that prince Harry is 
 
 valiant : for the cold blood h>; did naturally inherit 
 of his father, he hath, like lean, steril, and bare 
 land, manured, husbanded, and tilled, with excel- 
 lent endeavour of drinking good, and good store of 
 fertile sherris, that he is become very hot, and va- 
 liant. If I had a thousand sons, the first human 
 principle! would teach them, should be, to for- 
 swear thin potations, .and addict themselves to 
 sack. 
 
 Enter Bardolph. 
 
 How now, Bardolph ? 
 
 Bard. The army is discharged all, and jrone. 
 
 Fal. Let them go. I'll through Glostcrshire; and 
 there will I visit master Robert Shallow, esquire : 
 I have him already tempering between my finger 
 y thumb, and shortly will I seal with him.* 
 
 and my 
 Come away 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 (1) Stand my good friend. 
 
 J!) In my present temper. (3) Inventive. 
 I) Brings it into action. 
 >) An allusion to the old use of sealing with 
 wax. 
 
 Between his greatness and thy other brethren : 
 Therefore, omit him not ; blunt not his love : 
 Nor lose the good advantage of his grace, 
 By seeming cold, or careless of his will. 
 For he is gracious, if he be observ'd ;' 
 He hath a tear for pity, and a hand 
 Open as day for melting charity: 
 Yet notwithstanding, being inccns'd, he's flint ; 
 As humorous as winter, and as sudden 
 As (laws congealed in the spring of day. 
 His temper, therefore, must be well observ'd : 
 Chide him for faults, and do it reverently, 
 When you perceive his blood inclin'd to mirth : 
 But, being moody, give him line and scope ; 
 Till that his passions, like a whale on ground, 
 Confound themselves with working. Learn this, 
 
 Thomas, 
 
 And thou shall prove a shelter to thy friends ; 
 A hoop of gold, to bind thy brothers in ; 
 That the united vessels of their blood, 
 Mingled with venom of suggestion, 
 (As, force perforce, the ase will pour it in,) 
 Shall never leak, though it do work as strong 
 y aconitom.' or rash gunpowder. 
 Cla. I shnll observe him with all care and love. 
 A". Hen. Why art thou not at Windsor with him, 
 
 Thomas ? 
 
 Cla. He is not there to-day ; he dines in London. 
 K. Hen. And how accompanied ? canst thou 
 
 tell that? 
 
 Cla. With Poins, and other his continual fol- 
 lowers. 
 A". Hen. Most subject is the fattest soil to weeds ; 
 
 (6) Ready, prepared. 
 
 (7) Has an attention shown him. 
 
 (8) Wolf's-bane, a poisonous herb,
 
 Scene It. 
 
 SECOND PART OF KING HENRY IV. 
 
 And he, the noble image 01 my youth, 
 is overspread with them : Therefore ray grief 
 stretches itself beyond the hour of deat'h^ 
 The blood weeps-from my heart, when I do shape, 
 In forms imaginary, the unguided days, 
 And rotten times, that you shall look upon 
 When I am sleeping- with my ancestors. 
 For when his headstrong riot hath no curb, 
 When rage and hot blood are his counrdlors, 
 When means and lavish manners meet together, 
 O, with what wings shall his affections fly 
 Towards fronting peril and oppos'd decay ! 
 
 War. My gracious lord, you look beyond him 
 
 quite : 
 
 The prince but studies his companions, 
 Like a strange tongue : wherein, to gain the lan- 
 guage, 
 
 'Tis needful, that the most immodest word 
 Be look'd upon, and learn'd : which once attain'd, 
 Your highness knows, comes to no further use, 
 But to be known, and hated. So, like gross terms, 
 The prince will, in the perfectness of time, 
 Cast off his followers : and their memory 
 Shall, as a pattern or a measure, live, 
 By which his grace must mete the lives of others^ 
 Turning past evils to advantages. 
 K. Hm. 'Tis seldom, when the bee doth leflP 
 
 her comb 
 In the dead carrion. Who's here ? Westmoreland? 
 
 Enter Westmoreland^' 
 
 West. Health to my sovereign I and new happi- 
 ness 
 
 Added to that that I am to deliver ! 
 Prince John, your son, doth kiss your grace's hand : 
 Mowbray, the bishop Scroop, Hastings, and all, 
 Are brought to the correction of your law ; 
 There is not now a rebel's sword ur.sheath'd, 
 But peace puts forth her olive every where. 
 The manner how this action hath been borne, 
 Here at more leisure may your highness read ; 
 With every course, in his particular. 1 
 
 A". Hen. O Westmoreland, thou art a summer 
 
 bird, 
 
 Which ever in the haunch of winter sings 
 The lifting up of day. Look! here's more news. 
 
 Enter Harcourt. 
 
 Har. From enemies heaven keep your majesty ; 
 And, when they stand against you, may they fall 
 As those that I am come to tell you of! 
 The earl Northumberland, and thlord Bardolph, 
 With a great power of English, and of Scots, 
 Are by the sheriff of Yorkshire overthrown : 
 The manner and true order of the fight, 
 This packet, please it you, contains at large. 
 
 K. Hen. And wherefore should these good news 
 
 make me sic!; .' 
 
 Will Fortune never come with both hands full, 
 But write her fair words still in foulest letters ? 
 She either gives a stomach, and no food, 
 Such are the poor, in health ; or else a feast, 
 And takes away the stomach, such are the rich, 
 That have abundance, and enjoy it not. 
 I should rejoice now at this hap'py news ; 
 And now my sight fails, and my brain is giddy : 
 O me ! come near me, now I am much ill. 
 
 [Swoons. 
 
 P. Humph. Comfort, youmiajesty ! 
 
 Cla. O my royal father ! 
 
 (1) The detail contained in prince John's letter. 
 
 (2) Worked the wall. (3) Make me afraid. 
 (4) Monsters, (5) As if the year. 
 
 West. My sovereign lord, cheer up yourself, 
 
 look up ! 
 War. Be patient, princes ; you do know, these 
 
 fits 
 
 Are with his highness very ordinary. 
 Stand from him, give him air ; he'll straight be well. 
 Cla. No, no ; he cannot long hold out these pangs ; 
 The incessant care and labour of his mind 
 Hath wrought the mure, 2 that should confine it in, 
 So thin, that life looks through, and will break out. 
 P. Humpk. The people lear me ; 3 for they do 
 
 observe 
 
 fnfather'd heirs,* and loathly birds of nature : 
 The seasons change their manners, as the year 5 
 Had found some months asleep, and leap'd them 
 
 over. 
 Cla. The river hath thrice flow'd, nojsbb W 
 
 tween : 6 
 
 And the old folk, time's doling chronicles, 
 Say, it did so, :i iiulc time before 
 Th'at our great ;r; andsire, Edward, sick'd and died. 
 War. 0eak lower, princes, for the king recovers. 
 P.Jjfkiph. This apoplex will, certain, be his 
 jff end. 
 
 i. I pray you, take me up, and bear me 
 hence, 
 Into some other chamber : softly, 'prav. 
 
 [They convey the king into an Inner part of 
 
 the room, and place him on a bed. 
 Let there be no noise made, mv gentle friends ; 
 Unless some dull" and favourable hand 
 Will whisper music to my weary spirit. 
 
 War. Call for the music into the other room. 
 K. Hen. Set me the crown upon my pillow here. 
 Cla. His eye is hollow, and he changes much. 
 War. Less noise, less noise. 
 
 Enter Prince Henry. 
 
 P. Hen. - Who saw the duke of Clarence ? 
 
 Cla. I am here, brother, full of heaviness. 
 
 P. Hen. How now! rain within doors, and 
 
 none abroad ! 
 How doth the king? 
 
 P. Humph. Exceeding ill. 
 
 P. Hen. Heard he the good news yet ? 
 
 Tell it him. 
 
 P. Humph. He alter'd much upon the hearing it. 
 
 P. Hen. If he be sick 
 With joy, he will recover without physic. 
 
 War. Not so much noise, my lords: sweet 
 
 prince, speak low ; 
 The king your father is djspos'd to sleep. < 
 
 Cla. Let us withdraw into the other room. 
 
 War. Wi'.l't please your grace to go along with 
 us? 
 
 P. Hen. No ; I will sit and watch here by the 
 kinir. \Exevnt all but P. Henry. 
 
 Why doth the crown lie there upon his pillow, 
 Reinsr so f roublesome a bedfellow ? 
 polish'd perturbation ! golden care ! 
 That keep'st the ports 3 ofslumber open wide 
 To many a watchful night sleep with it now ! 
 Yet not so sound, and half so deeply sweet, 
 As he, whose brow, with homely biggin* bound, 
 Snores out the watch of night. O majesty ! 
 When thou dost pinch thy bearer, thou dost sit 
 Like a rich armour worn in heat of day, 
 That scalds with safety. By his gates of breath 
 There lies a downy feather, which stirs not : 
 Did he suspire, that light and weightless down 
 
 (6) An historical fact, on October 12, 1411. 
 
 (7) Melancholy, soothing. 
 (S) Gates. (9) Cap.
 
 432 
 
 SECOND PART OF KING HENRY IV. 
 
 Act IT. 
 
 Perforce must move. My gracious lord ! my fa- 
 ther ! 
 
 This sleep is sound indeed ; this is a sleep, 
 That from this golden rigol 1 hath divorc'd 
 So many English kings. Thy due, from me, 
 Is tears, and heavy sorrows of the blood ; 
 Which nature, love, and filial tenderness, 
 Shall, O dear father, pay thee plenteously : 
 My due, from thee, is this imperial crown ; 
 Which, as immediate from thy place and blood, 
 Derives itself to me. Lo, here it sits, 
 
 [Pulling it on his head. 
 Which heaven shall guard : And put the world's 
 
 whole strength 
 
 Into one giant arm, it shall not force 
 This lineal honour from me : This from thee 
 Will I to mine leave, as 'tis left to me. 
 K. He*. Warwick ! Glostcr ! Clarence ! 
 
 Re-enter Wai 
 
 the rest. 
 
 Cla. 
 
 Doth the king call? 
 War. What would your majesty ? How fares 
 
 your grace ? 
 K. Hen. Why did you leave me here alone, my 
 
 lords ? 
 
 Cla. We left the prince my brother here, my liege, 
 Who undertook to sit and watch by you. 
 K. Hen. The prince of Wales? Where is he? 
 
 let me see him : 
 He is not here. 
 
 War. This door is open ; he is gone this way. 
 P. Humph, He came not through the chamber 
 
 With 
 
 1th gentle eye-drops. He is coming hither. 
 K. Hen. But wherefore did he take away the 
 crown ? 
 
 Re-enter Prince Henry. 
 
 Lo, where he comes. Come hither to me, Harry : 
 Depart the chamber, leave us here alone. 
 
 [Exe. Clarence, Prince Humphrey, Lords, 4-c. 
 P. Hen. I never thought to hear you speak again. 
 K. Hen. Thy wish was father, Harry, to that 
 
 thought : 
 
 I stay too long by thee, I weary thee. 
 Dost thou so hunger for my empty chair, 
 That thou wilt needs invest thee with mine honours 
 Before thy hour be ripe ? O foolish youth ! 
 _ . Thou seek'st the greatness that will oVer whelm thee. 
 [Exit. Stay but a little ; for my cloud of dignity 
 Is held from falling with so weak a wind, 
 That it will quickly drop : my day is dim. 
 Thou hast stol'n that, which, after some few hours, 
 Were thine without offence ; and, at my death, 
 Thou hast seal'd up my expectation : 4 
 Thy life did manifest, thou lov'dst me not, 
 And thou wilt have me die assured of it. 
 . Thou hid'st a thousand daggers in thy thoughts ; 
 | _^ch thou hast whetted on thy stony heart, 
 
 where we stay'd. 
 K. Hen. Where is the crown ? who took it from 
 
 my pillow ? 
 War. When we withdrew, my liege, we left it 
 
 here. 
 K. Hen. The prince hath ta'cn it hence : go, 
 
 seek him out. 
 Is he so hasty, that he~doth suppose 
 
 My sleep my death ? 
 
 Find him, my lord of Warwick; chicle him hither. 
 [Exit Warwick. 
 
 This part of his conjoins with my disease, 
 And helps to end me. See, sons, what things you 
 
 are! 
 
 How quicklv nature falls into revolt, 
 When gold becomes her object ! 
 For this the foolish over-careful fathers 
 Have broke their sleep with thoughts their brains 
 
 with care, 
 
 Their bones T-ith industry ; 
 For this they have engrossed and pil'd up, 
 The canker'd heaps of strange-achieved gold ; 
 For this they have been thoughtful to invest 
 Their sons with arts, and martial exercises : 
 When, like the bee, tolling 2 from every flower 
 The virtuous sweets ; 
 
 Our thighs pack'd with wax, our mouths with honey, 
 We bring it to the hive ; and, like the bees, 
 Are murder'd for our pains. This bitter taste 
 Yield his engrossments 3 to the ending father. 
 
 Re-entv Warwick. 
 
 Now, where is he that will not stay so long 
 Till his friend sickness hath determin'd 4 me ? 
 War. My lord, I found the prince in the next 
 
 rdom, 
 
 Washing with kindly tears his gentle cheeks ; 
 With such a deep demeanour in arreat sorrow, 
 That tyranny, which never quaff'd but biood, 
 Would, by b'eholding him, have wash'd his knife 
 
 To stab at half an hour of my life. 
 What ! canst thou not forbear me half an hour ? 
 Then get thee gone ; and dig my grave thyself; 
 And bid the merry bells ring to thine ear, 
 That thou art crowned, not that I am dead. 
 Let all the tears that should bedew my hearse, 
 Be drops of balm, to sanctify thy head : 
 Only compound me with forgotten dust ; 
 Give that, which gave thee life, unto the worms. 
 Pluck down my officers, break my decrees ; 
 For now a time is come to mock at form, 
 Harry the Fifth is crown'd : Up, vanity ! 
 Down, royal state ! all you sage counsellors, hence ! 
 And to the English court assemble now, 
 From every region, apes of idleness ! 
 Now, neighbour confines, purge you of your scum : 
 Have you a rurfian, that will swear, drink, dance, 
 Revel the night ; rob, murder, and commit 
 The oldest sins the newest kind of ways ? 
 Be happy, he will trouble you no more : 
 England* shall double gild his treble guilt ; 
 England shall give him office, honour, might : 
 For the fifth Harry from curb'd license plucks 
 The muzzle off restraint, and the wild dog 
 Shall flesh his tooth in every innocent. 
 my poor kingdom, sick with civil blows ! 
 When that my care could not withhold thy riots, 
 W r hat wilt thou do, when riot is thy care ? 
 0, thou wilt be a wilderness again, 
 Peopled with wolves, thy old' inhabitants ! 
 P. Hen. O, pardon me, my liege ! but for my 
 , tears, [Kneeling. 
 
 The moist impediments unto my speech, 
 [ had forestall'd this dear and deep rebuke, 
 Ere you with grief had spoke, and I had heard 
 The course of it so far. There is your crown ; 
 And He that wears the crown immortally, 
 Long puard it yours ! If I affect it more, 
 Than as your honour, and as your renown, 
 Let me no more from this obedience rise, 
 (Which my most true and inward-duteous spirit 
 Teacheth,) this prostrate and exterior bending ! 
 Heaven witness with me, when I here came in, 
 And found no course of breath within your majesty, 
 How cold it struck my heart ! if I do'feign, 
 0, let me in my present wildness die ; 
 
 (I) Circle, (2) Taking toll. (3) Accumulations. (4) Ended 
 
 (5) Confirmed mv ooinion.
 
 JJfcene /. 
 
 SECOND PART OF KING HENRY IV. 
 
 433 
 
 And never lire to show the incredulous world 
 
 The noble change that I have purposed ! 
 
 Coming to look on you, thinking you dead, 
 
 (And dead almost, my liege, to think you were,) 
 
 I spake unto the crown, as having sense, 
 
 And thus upbraided it. The care on thee depending, 
 
 Hath fed upon the body of my father ; 
 
 Therefore, thou, best of gold, art worst of gold. 
 
 Other, less fine in carat^ 1 is more precious, 
 
 Preserving life in med'cine potable ; 2 
 
 But thou, most fine, most honoured, most renown 1 d, 
 
 Hast eat thy bearer up. Thus, my most royal liege, 
 
 Accusing it, I put. it on my head ; 
 
 To try with it, as with an enemy, 
 
 That had before my face murder'd my father, 
 
 The quarrel of a true inheritor. 
 
 But if it did infect my blood with joy, 
 
 Or swell my thoughts to any strain of pride ; 
 
 If any rebel or vain spirit of mine 
 
 Did, with the least affection of a welcome, 
 
 Give entertainment to the might of it; 
 
 Let God for ever keep it from my head ! 
 
 And make me as the poorest vassal is, 
 
 That doth with awe and terror kneel to it ! 
 
 K.Hen. O my son ! 
 
 Heaven put it in thy mind, to take it hence, 
 That thou might'st win the more thy father's love, 
 Pleading so wisely in excuse ofyt. 
 Come hither, Harry, sit thou by my bed: 
 And hear, I think, the very latest counsel 
 That ever I shall breathe. Heaven knows, my son, 
 By what by-paths, and indirect crook'd ways, 
 I met this crown ; and I myself know well, 
 How troublesome it sat upon my head : 
 To thee it shall descend with better quiet, 
 Better opinion, better confirmation ; 
 For all the soil 3 of the achievement goes 
 With me into the earth. It seem'd in me, 
 But as an honour snatch'd with boisterous hand ; 
 And I had many living, to upbraid 
 My gain of it by their assistances ; 
 AVhich daily grew to quarrel, and to bloodshed, 
 Wounding supposed peace : all these bold fears, 4 
 Thou see'st, with peril I have answered : 
 For all my reign hath been but as a scene. 
 Acting that argument; and now my death 
 Changes the mode : s for what in me was purchas'd, 
 Falls upon thee in a more fairer sort ; 
 So thou the garland wear's! successively. 
 Yet, though thou stand'st more sure than I could do, 
 Thou art not firm enough, since griefs are green ; 
 And all thy friends, which thou must make thy 
 
 friends, 
 
 Have but their stings and teeth newly ta'en out ; 
 By whose fell working I was first advanc'd, 
 And by whose power I well might lodge a fear 
 To be again displac'd : which to avoid, 
 I cut them off; and had a purpose now 
 To lead out many to the Holy Land ; 
 Lest rest, and lying still, might make them look 
 Too near unto iny state. Therefore, my Harry, 
 Be it thy course, to busy giddy minds 
 With foreign quarrels ; that action, hence borne out 
 May waste the memory of the former days. 
 More would I, but my lungs are wasted so, 
 That strength of speech is utterly denied me. 
 How came I by the crown, O God, forgive ! 
 And grant it may with thee in true peace live ! 
 
 P. Hen. My gracious liege, 
 You won it, wore it, kept it, gave it me ; 
 Then plain, and right, must my possession be : 
 
 (1) Quality. (2) To be taken. 
 
 (.1) Spot, dirt. (4) Frights. (5) State of things 
 
 Vhich I, with more than with a common pain, 
 Gainst all the world will rightfully maintain. 
 
 Enter Prince John of Lancaster, Warwick, Lords, 
 
 and others. 
 K. Hen. Look, look, here comes my John of 
 
 Lancaster. 
 P. John. Health, peace, and happiness, to my 
 
 royal father ! 
 K. Hen. Thou bring'st me happiness, and peace, 
 
 son John ; 
 
 Jut health, alack, with youthful wings is flown 
 ''rom this bare wither'd trunk : upon thy sight, 
 
 Vly worldly business makes a period. 
 
 Where is my lord of Warwick ? 
 P. Hen. My lord of Warwick ! 
 
 K. Hen. Doth any name particular belong 
 Into the lodging where I first did swoon? 
 War. 'Tis called Jerusalem, my noble lord. 
 K. Hen. Laud be to God ! even there my life 
 
 must end. 
 
 t hath been prophesied to me many years, 
 should not die but in Jerusalem ; 
 Yhich vainly I suppos'd, the Holy Land : 
 Jut, bear me to that chamber ; there I'll lie ; 
 ~n that Jerusalem shall Harry die. [Exeunt. 
 
 ACT V. 
 
 SCENE /. Glostershire. A hall in Shallow * 
 house. Enter Shallow, Falstaff", Bardolph, and 
 Page. 
 
 Shal. By cock and pye, sir, you shall not away 
 o-night. What, Davy, I say ! 
 
 Fal. You must excuse me r master Robert Shal- 
 low. 
 
 Shal. I will not excuse you ; you shall not be 
 excused ; excuses shall not be admitted ; there u 
 no excuse shall serve ; you shall not be excused. 
 Why, Davy ! 
 
 Enter Davy. 
 
 Davy. Here, sir. 
 
 Shal. DaVy, Davy, Davy, let me see, Davy ; 
 let me see : yea, marry, William cook, bid him. 
 come hither. Sir John, you shall not be excused. 
 
 Davy. Marry, sir, thus ; those precepts* cannot 
 be served : and, again, sir, Shall we sow the head- 
 land with wheat ? 
 
 Slwl. With red wheat, Davy. But for William 
 cook ; Are there no young pigeons ? 
 
 Davy. Yes, sir. Here is now the smith's note, 
 
 for shoeing, and plough-irons. 
 
 Shal. Let it be cast, 8 and paid : Sir John, you 
 shall not be excused. 
 
 Davy. Now, sir, a new link to the bucket must 
 needs be had : And, sir, do you mean to stop any 
 of William's wages, about the sack he lost the other 
 day, at Hinckley fair ? 
 
 Shul. He shall answer it: Some pigeons, 
 
 Davy; a couple of short-legged hens; a joint of 
 mutton ; and any pretty little tiny kickshaws, tell 
 William cook. 
 
 Davy. Doth the man of war stay all night, sir ? 
 
 Shot. Yes, Davy. I will use him well ; A friend 
 i'the court is better than a penny in purse. Use his 
 men well, Davy ; for they are arrant knaves, and 
 will backbite. 
 
 (6) Purchase, in Shakspeare, frequently means 
 $tolen goods. 
 
 (7) Warrants. (8) Accounted up. 
 
 31
 
 434 
 
 SECOND P ART OF KING HENRY IV. 
 
 Act?. 
 
 Davy. No worse than they are back-bitten, sir ; 
 for they have marvellous foul linen. 
 
 Shal. Well conceited, Davy. About thy busi- 
 ness, Davy. 
 
 Davy. 1 beseech you, sir, to countenance Wil- 
 liam Visor of Wincot against Clement Perkes of 
 the hill. 
 
 Shal. There are many complaints, Davy, against 
 that Visor ; that Visor is an arrant knave, on my 
 knowledge. 
 
 Davy. I grant your worship, that he is a knave. 
 sir : but yet, God forbid, sir, but a knave should 
 have some countenance at his friend's request. An 
 honest man, sir, is able to speak for himself, when 
 a knave is not. I have served your worship truly, 
 sir, this eight years ; and if I cannot once or twice 
 in a quarter bear out a knave against an honest 
 man, I have but a very little credit with your wor- 
 ship. The knave is mine honest friend, sir; there- 
 fore, I beseech your worship, let him be counte- 
 nanced. 
 
 Slial. Go to ; I say, he shall have no wrong. 
 Look about, Davy. [Exit Davy.] Where are you. 
 sir John ? Come, off' with your boots. Give me 
 your hand, master Bardolph. 
 
 Bard. I am glad to see your worship. 
 
 Shal. I thank thee with all my heart, kind master 
 Bardolph : and welcome, my tall fellow. [To the 
 Page.] Come, sir John. [Exit Shallow. 
 
 >Fal. I'll follow you, good master Robert Shal- 
 low. Bardolph, look to our horses. [Exeunt Bar- 
 dolph and Page.] If I were sawed into quantities, 
 I should make four dozen of such bearded hermit's- 
 staves as master Shallow. It is a wonderful thing, 
 to see the semblable coherence of his men's spirits 
 and his : They, by observing him, do bear them- 
 selves like foolish justices ; he, by conversing with 
 them, is turned into a justice-like serving-man ; 
 their spirits are so married in conjunction with the 
 participation of society, that they flock together in 
 consent, like so many wild s^eese. If I had a suit 
 to master Shallow, I would humour his men, with 
 the imputation of being near their master : if to his 
 men, I would curry with master Shallow, that no 
 man could better command his servants. It is cer- 
 tain, that either wise bearing, or ignorant carriage, 
 is caught, as men take diseases, one of another : 
 therefore, let men take heed of their company. I 
 will devise matter enough out of this Shallow, to 
 keep prince Harry in continual laughter, the wear- 
 ing-out of six fashions, (which is four terms, or two- 
 actions,) and he shall laugh without intervallums. 
 O, it is much, that a lie, with a slight oath, and a 
 jest, with a sad brow, 1 will do with a fellow that 
 never had the ache in his shoulders ! 0, you shall 
 see him laugh, till his face be like a wet cloak ill 
 laid up. 2 
 
 Shal. [Within.] Sir John! 
 
 Fal. I come, master Shallow ; I come, master 
 Shallow. [Exit Falstaff. 
 
 SCENE II. Westminster. Jl room in the palace. 
 Enter Warwick, and the Lord Chief Justice. 
 
 War. How now, my lord chief justice ? whither 
 
 away? 
 
 Ch.Just. How doth the king? 
 War. Exceeding well ; his cares are now all 
 
 ended. 
 
 Ch. Just. 1 hope, not dead. 
 War. He's walked the way of nature ; 
 
 And, to our purposes, he lives no more. 
 
 & serious face. 
 
 (2) Full of wrinkles, 
 
 Ch. Just. I would, his majesty had call'd me 
 
 with him : 
 
 The service that I truly did his life, 
 Hath left me open to all injuries. 
 War. Indeed, I think, the young king loves you 
 
 not. 
 
 Ch. Just. I know, he doth not ; and do arm my- 
 self, 
 
 To welcome the condition of the time ; 
 Which cannot look more hideously upon me 
 Than I have drawn it in my fantasy. 
 
 Enter Prince John, Prince Humphrey, Clarence, 
 Westmoreland, and others. 
 
 War. Here come the heavy issue of dead Harry : 
 0, that the living Harry had the temper 
 Of him, the worst of these three gentlemen ! 
 How many nobles then should hold their places, 
 That must strike sail to spirits of vile sort ! 
 
 Ch. Just. Alas ! I fear, ail will be overturn'd. 
 
 P. John. Good morrow, cousin Warwick. 
 
 P. Humph. Cla. Good morrow, cousin. 
 
 P. John. We meet like men that had forgot to 
 speak. 
 
 War. We do remember ; but our argument 
 Is all too heavy to admit much talk. 
 
 P. John. Well, peace be with him that hath made 
 us heavy ! 
 
 Ch. Just. Peace be with us, lest we be heavier ! 
 
 P. Humph. O, good my lord, you have lost a 
 
 friend, indeed : 
 
 And I dare swear, you borrow not that face 
 Of seeming sorrow ; it is, sure, your own. 
 
 P. John. Though no man be assur'd what grace 
 
 to find, 
 
 You stand in coldest expectation : 
 I am the sorrier ; 'would, 'twere otherwise. 
 
 Cla. Well, you must now speak sir John Falstaff 
 
 fair ; 
 Which swims against your stream of quality. 
 
 Ch. Just. Sweet princes, what I did, I did in 
 
 honour, 
 
 Led by the impartial conduct of my soul ; 
 And never shall you see, that I will beg 
 A ragged and forestall'd remission. 
 If truth and upright innocency fail me, 
 I'll to the king my master that is dead, 
 And tell him who hath sent me after him. 
 
 War. Here comes the prince. 
 
 Enter King Henry V. 
 
 Ch. Just. Goc& morrow ; and heaven save your 
 majesty ! 
 
 King. This new and gorgeous garment, majesty, 
 Sits not so easy on me as you think. 
 Brothers, you mix your sadness with some fear ; 
 This is the English, not the Turkish court ; 
 Not Amurath an Amtirath 3 succeeds, 
 But Harry, Harry : Yet be sad, good brothers, 
 For, to speak truth, it very well becomes you ; 
 Sorrow so royally in you appears, 
 That I will deeply put the fashion on, 
 And wear it in my heart. Why then, be sad : 
 But entertain no more of it, good brothers, 
 Than a joint burden laid upon us all. 
 For me, by heaven, I bid you be assur'd, 
 I'll be your father and your brother too ; 
 Let me but bear your love, I'll bear your cares. 
 Yet weep, that Harry's dead ; and so will I : 
 But Harry lives, that shall convert those tears, 
 By number, into hours of happiness. 
 
 (3) Emperor of the Turks, died in 1596; his son, 
 who succeeded him, had all his brothers strangled.
 
 SECOND PART OP KING H^NRY IV, 
 
 P. John, fyc. We hope no other from your ma- To frustrate prophecies : and to raze 6Ut 
 jesly. Rotten opinion, whojhath writ me down 
 
 Your majesty hath no just cause to hate me. 
 
 Kins:. No! 
 
 How might a prince of my areat hopes forget 
 So great indignities you laid upon me ? 
 What ! rate, rebuke, and rouglily send to prison, 
 The immediate heir of England ! Was this easy ? 
 May this be wash'd in Lethe, and forgotten ? 
 
 Ch. Just. I then did use the person of your 
 
 father ; 
 
 The image of his power lay then in me : 
 And, in the administration of his law, 
 Whiles I was busy for the commonwealth, 
 Your highness pleased to forget my place, 
 The majesty and power of law and justice, 
 The image of the king whom I presented, 
 And struck me in my very seat of judgment; 
 Whereon, as an offender to your father, 
 I gave bold way to my authority, 
 And did commit vou. If the deed were ill, A 
 Be you contented, wearing now the garland, 
 To have a son set your decrees at nought ; 
 To pluck down justice from your awful bench ; 
 To trip the course of law, and blunt the sword 
 That guards the peace and safety of your person 
 Nay, more ; to spurn at your most royal image, 
 And mock your workings in a second body. 2 
 Question your royal thoughts, make the case yours ; 
 Be now the father, and propose a son : 
 Hear your own dignity so much profan'd. 
 See your most dreadful laws so loosely slighted, 
 Behold yourself so by a son disdain'd ; 
 And then imagine me taking your part, 
 And, in your power, soft silencing your son : 
 .After this cold considerance, sentence me ; 
 And, as you are a king, speak in your state, 3 
 What I have done, that misbecame my place, 
 Mv person, or my liege's sovereignty. 
 
 King. Yon are right, justice, and you weigh this 
 
 well ; 
 
 Therefore still bear the balance, and the sword : 
 And I do wish your honours may increase, 
 Till you do live to see a son of mine 
 Offend you, and obey you, as I did. 
 So shall I live to speak my father's words ; 
 Happy am I, tltat have a man so bold, 
 That dares do justice on :ny proper son : 
 *3nd not less happy, having such a son, 
 That would deliver np his greatness so, 
 Into the hands of justice. You did commit me : 
 For which, I do commit into your hand 
 The unstained sword that you have us'd to bear ; 
 With this remembrance, That you use the same 
 With the like bold, just, and impartial spirit, 
 As you have done 'gainst me. There is my hand : 
 You shall be as a father to mv youth : 
 My voice shall sound as you do prompt mine ear ; 
 And I will stoop and humble my intents 
 
 To your well-practis'd, wise directions. 
 
 And', princes all, believe me, I beseech you ; 
 My father is gone wild into his grave, 
 For in his tomb lie my affections ; 
 And with his spirit sadly* I survive, 
 To mock the expectation of the world ; 
 
 (1) Crown. 
 
 (2) Treat with contempt your acts executed by 
 a representative. 
 
 (3) In your regal character and office, 
 
 433 
 
 And flow henceforth in formal majesty. 
 Now call we our high court of parliament : 
 And let us choose such limbs of noble counsel, 
 That the great body of our state may go 
 In equal rank with the best-governM nation ; 
 That war, or peace, or both at once, may be 
 
 As things acquainted and familiar to us ; 
 
 In which you, father, shall have foremost hand. 
 [To the Lord Chief Justice. 
 Our coronation done, we will accite, 4 
 As I before remember'd, all our state : ^|^_^k. 
 And (God consigning to iny good intents,) 
 No prince, nor peer, shall nave just cause to sav, 
 Heaven shorten Harry's happy life one day. [xe . 
 
 SCE.VE III. Glostershire. The garden of Shal- 
 low's house. Enter Falstaff, Shallow, Silence, 
 Bardolph, the Page, and Davy. 
 
 Shal. Nay, you shall see mine orchard : where, 
 in an arbour, we will eat a last year's pippin of my 
 own grafting, with a dish of caraways, and so forth ; 
 come, cousin Silence ; and then to bed. 
 
 Fal. 'Fore God, you have here a goodly dwelling, 
 and a rich. 
 
 Shal. Barren, barren, barren ; beggars all, beg- 
 gars all, sir xJohn : marry, good air. Spread, 
 Davy ; spread, Davy ; well said, Davy. 
 
 Ful. This Davy serves you for good uses ; he is 
 your serving-man, and your husbandman. 
 
 Shal. A good varlet, a good varlet, a very good 
 varlet, sir John. By the mass, I have drunk top 
 
 much sack at supper : A good varlet. Now sit 
 
 down, now sit down : come, cousin. 
 Sil. Ah, sirrah ! quoth-a, we shall 
 Do nothing but eat, and make good cheer, 
 
 [Singing. 
 
 .fln d praise heaven for the merry year ; 
 When flesh is cheap and females dear, 
 *ind lusty lads roam here and there, 
 
 So merrily, 
 
 Jlnd ever among so merrily. 
 Fal. There's a merry heart ! Good master Si- 
 lence, I'll give you a health for that anon. 
 Shal. Give master Bardolph some wine, Davy. 
 Davy. Sweet sir, sit; [Seating- Bardolph and the 
 Page at another table.] I'll be with you anon : 
 
 most sweet sir, sit. Master page, good master 
 
 page, sit : preface ! c What you want in meat, we'll 
 have in drink. But you must bear ; The heart's 
 all. [Exit. 
 
 Shal. Be merry, master Bardolph ; and my little 
 soldier there, be merry. 
 Sil. Be merry, be merry, my wife's as all ;" 
 
 [Singing. 
 
 .For women are shreics, both short and tall : 
 'Tis merry in ludl, when beards wag all, 
 
 And welcome merry shrove-lide. 
 Be merry, be merry, &c. 
 Fal. I did not think, master Silence had been a 
 man of this mettle. 
 
 Sil. Who, I ? I have been merry twice and once 
 ere now. 
 
 (4) Gravely. (5) Summon. 
 
 (6) Italian, much good may it do you. 
 
 (7) As all women are.
 
 430 
 
 SECOND PAftT OF KING HENRY IV. 
 
 r. 
 
 Re-enter Davy. 
 
 Davy. There is a dish of leather-coals' for you. 
 [Setting them before Bardolph. 
 Shal. Davy, 
 
 Davy. Your worship? I'll be with you straight. 
 [To Bard.] A cup of wine, sir? 
 Sil. <A cup of wine, that's brisk and fine, 
 Jlnd drink unto the Itinan- mine ; 
 
 [Singing. 
 Jlnd a merry heart lives long-a. 
 
 Fal. Well said, master Silence. 
 <Si/. And we shall be merry ; now comes in the 
 sweet of the night. 
 Fal. Health and long life to you, master Silence. 
 
 Sil. Fill the cup, and let it come ; 
 
 I'll pledge you a mile to the bottom. 
 
 Shal. Honest Bardolph, welcome : If thou want- 
 est any thing, and will not call, beshrew thy heart. 
 Welcome, my little tiny thief ; [To the Page.] 
 and welcome, indeed, too. I'll drink to master 
 Bardolph, and to all the cavaleroes 3 about London. 
 
 Davy. I hope to see London once ere I die. 
 Bard. An I might see you there, Davy. 
 Shal. By the mass, you'll crack a quart together. 
 Ha ! will you not, master Bardolph ? 
 Bard. Yes, sir, in a pottle-pot. 
 Shal. ' " ' 
 
 Assyrian knight, what is thy news ? 
 etua know the truth thereof. 
 
 Fal. O base 
 
 Sil. 3nd Robin Hood, Scarlet, and John. 
 
 f Sings, 
 icoi 
 
 Pist. Shall dunghill curs confront the Helicons ? 
 And shall good news be baffled ? 
 Then, Pistol, lay thy head in Furies' lap. 
 
 Shal. Honest gentleman, I know not your breed- 
 ing. 
 
 Pitt. Why then, lament therefore. 
 
 Shal. Give me pardon, sir ; If, sir, you come 
 with news from the court, I take it, there is but 
 two ways ; either to utter them, or to conceal them. 
 I am, sir, under the king, in some authority. 
 
 Pist. Under which king, Bezonian ? speak, or die. 
 
 Shal. Under king Harry. 
 
 Pist. Harry the fourth ? or fifth? 
 
 Shal. Harry the fourth. 
 
 Pist. A foutra for thine office ! 
 
 ir John, thy tender lambkin now is king ; 
 Harry the fifth's the man. I speak the truth : 
 When Pistol lies, do this ; and fig me, like 
 The bragging Spaniard. 
 
 Fal. What ! is the old king dead ? 
 Pist. As nail in door : The things I speak are just. 
 Fal. Away, Bardolph ; saddle my horse. Mas- 
 ;er Robert Shallow, choose what office thou wilt 
 
 .. , - ... - ,!_ i n the land, 'tis thine. Pistol, I will double-charge 
 
 hal. I thank thee : The knave will stick by thee with dignities 
 
 .J u~" aSSUre thee that : h WH1 " Ot Ut 5 hC - C< "'. (/ - Wful day !-I w 
 
 hood for my fortune. 
 Pist. What ? I do bring good news ? 
 Fal. Carry master Silence to bed. Master Shal- 
 
 Bard. And I'll stick by him, sir. 
 
 Shal. Why, there spoke a king. Lack nothing : 
 be merry. [Knocking heard.]' Look who's at door 
 
 there : Ho ! who knocks ? 
 
 [Exit Davy. 
 
 Fal. Why, now you have done me right. 
 
 [ To Silence, who drinks a bumper. 
 Sil. [Singing.] Do me rigid, 
 , Jlnd dub me knight :* 
 
 Samingo. 1 
 Is't not so ? 
 Fal. 'Tis so. 
 Sil. Is't so ? Why, then say, an old man can do 
 somewhat. 
 
 Re-enter Davy. 
 
 Davy. An it please your worship, there's one 
 Pistol come from the court with news. 
 Fal. From the court ? let him come in. 
 
 Enter Pistol. 
 How now, Pistol ? 
 
 Pist. God save you, sir John ! 
 
 Fal. What wind blew you here. Pistol ? 
 
 Pist. Not the ill wind which blows no man to 
 good. Sweet knight, thou art now one of the 
 
 this world. 
 
 Pist. A foutra for the world, and worldlings base ! 
 I speak of Africa, and golden joys. 
 
 (1) Apples commonly called russetines. 
 
 (2) Sweetheart. (3) Gay fellows. 
 
 (4) He who drank a bumper on his knees to the 
 health of nis mistress, was dubbed a knight for the 
 evening. 
 
 ould not take a knight- 
 
 low, my lord Shallow, be what thou wilt, I am for- 
 tune's steward. Get on thy boots ; we'll ride all 
 night : O, sweet Pistol : Away, Bardolph. [Exit 
 Bardolph.] Come, Pistol, utter more to me; and, 
 withal, devise something, to do thyself good. 
 Boot, boot, master Shallow ; I know, the young 
 king is sick for me. Let us take any man's horses"; 
 the laws of England are at iny commandment. 
 Happy are they which have been my li iends ; and 
 wo to mv lord chief justice ! 
 
 Pist. Let vultures vile seize on his lungs also ! 
 Where is the life that late I led 1 say they : 
 Why, here it is ; Welcome these pleasant days. 
 
 [Excwit. 
 
 SCENE IV. London. Jl street. Enter Beadles, 
 dragging in Hostess Quickly, and Doll Tear- 
 sheet. 
 
 Host. No, thou arrant knave : I would I might 
 die, that I might have thee hanged : thou hast drawn 
 my shoulder out of joint. 
 
 1 Bead. The constables have delivered her over 
 to me ; and she shall have whipping-cheer enough, 
 I warrant her : There hath been a man or two 
 
 greatest men in the realm. 
 
 Sil. By'r lady, I think 'a be ; "bat goodman Pufl 
 of Barson. 
 
 Pwt. Puff'? 
 
 Puff in thy teeth, most recreant coward base ! 
 Sir John, I am thy Pistol, and thy friend, 
 And helter-skelter have I rode to 'thee ; 
 And tidings dp I bring, and lucky joys, 
 And golden times, and happy news of price. would make this a bloody day to somebody. But I 
 
 Fal. I pr'ythee now, deliver them like a man of pray God the fruit of her womb miscarry ! 
 
 1 Bead. If it do, you shall have a dozen of 
 
 lately killed about her. 
 
 Doll. Nut-hook, nut-hook, 6 you lie. Come on: 
 I'll tell thee what, thou damned tripe-visaged 
 rascal ; an the child I now go with, do miscarry, 
 thou hadst better thou hadst struck thy mother, 
 thou paper-faced villain. 
 
 Host. the Lord, that sir John were come ! he 
 
 cushions' again ; you have but eleven now. Come, 
 I charge you both go with me ; for the man is dead, 
 that you and Pistol beat among you. 
 
 (5) It should be Domingo ; it is part of a song 
 in one of Nashe's plays. 
 
 (6) A term of reproach for a catchpoll. 
 
 (7) To stuff her out to counterfeit pregnancy. 

 
 Sctne V. 
 
 SECOND PART OF KING HENRY IV. 
 
 437 
 
 Dott. I'll tell thce what, thou thin man in a cen- 
 ser ! I will have you as soundly swinged for this, 
 you blue-bottle rogue! 1 you filthy famished cor- 
 rectioner ! if you be not swinged, I'll forswear half- 
 kirtles.* 
 
 I Bead. Come, come, you she knight-errant, 
 come. 
 
 Host. O, that right should thus overcome might! 
 Weil ; of sufferance comes ease. 
 
 Doll. Come, you rogue, come ; bring me to a 
 justice. 
 
 Host. Ay ; come, you starved blood-hound. 
 
 Doll. Goodman death ! goodman bones ! 
 
 Host. Thou atomy, thou ! 
 
 Doll. Come, you thin tiling ; come, you rascal ! 
 
 1 Bead. Very well. ' [Exeunt. 
 
 SCE.VE V A pitilic place near Westminster 
 .ibbey. Enter two Grooms, strewing rushes. 
 
 1 Groom. More rushes, more rushes. 
 
 2 Groom. The trumpets have sounded twice. 
 
 1 Groom. It will be two o'clock ere they cornel 
 from the coronation : Despatch, despatch. 
 
 [Exeunt Grooms 
 
 Enter Falstaff, Shallow, Pistol, Bardolph, and 
 the Page. 
 
 Fal. Stand here by me, master Robert Shallow ; 
 I will make the king do you grace : I will leer upon 
 him, as 'a comes by ; and do but mark the counte- 
 nance that he will give me. 
 
 Pist. God bless thv lungs, good knight. 
 
 Fal. Come here, Pistol ; stand behind mo. 0, 
 if I had had time to have made new liveries, I 
 would have bestowed Hie thousand pound I bor- 
 rowed of you. [To Shallow.] But 'tis no matter; 
 this poor show doth better: this doth infer the zeal 
 I had to see him. 
 
 S/jrt/. It doth sa. 
 
 Fal. It shows my earnestness of affection. 
 
 Shal. It doth so. 
 
 F<d. My devotion. 
 
 Shal. It doth, it doth, it doth. 
 
 Fal. As it were, to ride dav and night ; and not 
 to deliberate, not to remember, not to have pa- 
 tience to shift me. 
 
 Shal. It is most certain. 
 
 Fal. But to stand stained with travel, and sweat- 
 ing with desire to see him : thinking of nothing 
 else: putting all affairs else in oblivion; as if there 
 were nothing else to be done, but to see him. 
 
 Pist. 'Tis semper idem, for absqne hoc nihil est : 3 
 'Tis all in ever}' part. 
 
 Shal. 'Tis so, indeed. 
 
 Pist. My knight, I will inflame thy noble liver, 
 And make thee ra'jre. 
 
 Thy Doll, and Helen of thy noble thoughts, 
 Is in base durance, and contagious prison ; 
 Haul'd thither 
 
 By most mechanical and dirty hand : 
 Rouse up revenge from ebon den with fell Alecto's 
 
 snake, 
 For Doll is in ; Pistol speaks nought but truth. 
 
 Fal. I will deliver her. 
 
 [Shouts irithin, and the trumpet? sound. 
 
 Pist. There roar'd the sea, and trumpet-clangor 
 sounds. 
 
 Enter the King and his train, the Chief Justice 
 
 among them. 
 Fal. God save thy grace, king Hal ! my royal Hal ! 
 
 (1) Beadles usually wore a blue livery. 
 
 (2) Short cloaks. 
 
 e, 5 and more thy grace ; 
 
 ow, the gravejifith owe ^ 
 
 i for -other men:- 
 
 ol-born jf st ; 
 
 Pist. The heavens thee guard and keep, most 
 royal imp* of fame ! 
 
 Fal. God save thee, my sweet boy ! 
 
 King. My lord chief justice, speak to that vain 
 man. 
 
 Ch. Just. Have you your wits ? know you what 
 'tis you speak ? 
 
 Fal. My king ! my Jove ! I speak to thee, my 
 heart ! 
 
 King. I know thee not, old man: Fall to thy 
 
 prayers ; 
 
 How ill white hairs become a fool, and jester J 
 I have long dream'd of such a kind of man, 
 So surfeit-swell'd, so old, and so profane ; 
 But, being awake. I do despise my dream. 
 Make less thy body, hence, 5 and more thy grace ; 
 Leave gormandizing ; know, the f 
 For thee thrice wider than for-othe 
 Reply not to me ivitliafoe^borniv - 
 Presume not, thai I am the thing I was : 
 For heaven doth know, so shall the world perceive, 
 That I have turn'd away my former self; 
 So will I those that kept me company. 
 \Vhen thou dost hear I am as I have been, 
 Approach me ; and thou shall be as thou wast, 
 The tutor and the feeder of mv riots : 
 Till then, I banish thee, on pain of death, 
 As I have done the rest of my misleaders, 
 Not to come near our person by ten mile. 
 For competence of life, I will allow you ; 
 That lack of means enforce you not to evil : 
 And, as we hear you do reform yourselves, 
 We will, according to your strength, and quali- 
 ties, 
 Give you advancement. Be it your charge, mj 
 
 * lord, 
 
 To see perform'd the tenor of our word. 
 Set on. [Exeunt King, and his train. 
 
 Fal. Master Shallow, 1 owe you a thousand pound. 
 
 Shal. Ay, marry, sir John ; which I beseech 
 you to let me have home with me. 
 
 Fal. That can'hardly be, master Shallow. Do 
 not you grieve at this ; I shall be sent for in private 
 lo him : look you, he must seem thus to the world. 
 Fear not your advancement ; I will be the man 
 yet, that shall make you great. 
 
 Shal. 1 cannot perceive how; unless you give 
 me your doublet, and stuff me out with straw. I 
 beseech you, good sir John, let me have Dve hun- 
 dred of my thousand. 
 
 Fal. Sir, I will be as good as my word : this 
 that you heard, was but a colour. 
 
 Shal. A colour, I fear, that you will die in, sir 
 John. 
 
 Fal. Fear no colours ; go with me to dinner. 
 Come, lieutenant Pistol : come, Bardolph : I 
 shall be sent for soon at nijht. 
 
 Re-enter P. John, the Chief Justice, Officers, <$ 
 
 Ch. Just. Go, carry sir John Falstaff to the Fleet ; 
 Take all his company along with him. 
 
 Fal. My lord, my lord, 
 
 Ch. Just. I cannot now speak : I will hear you 
 
 soon. 
 Take them away. 
 
 Pist. St fortu'na me tmwenta, spero me contents. 
 [Exe. Fal. Shal. Pist. Bard. Page, and officers. 
 
 P. John. I like this fair proceeding of the king's 
 He hath intent, his wonted followers 
 Shall all be very well provided for ; 
 But all are banlsh'd, till their conversations 
 
 (SJ 'Tis all in all, and all in every part. 
 
 (4) Child, offspring. (5) Hencefonvadr.
 
 438 
 
 SECOND PART OF KING HENRY IV. 
 
 r. 
 
 Appear more wise and modest to the world. 
 Ch. Just. And so they arc. 
 P. John. The king hath call'd his parliament, 
 
 my lord. 
 
 Ch. Just. He hath. 
 P. John. I will lay odds, that, ere this year 
 
 expire, 
 
 We bear our civil swords, and native fire, 
 As far as France : I heard a bird so sing, 
 Whose music, to my thinking, pleas'd the king. 
 Come, will you hence ? [Exeunt. 
 
 EPILOGUE, 
 
 SPOKEN BY A DANCER. 
 
 FIRST, my fear; then, my ciurt'sy; last, my 
 speech. My fear is, yo;ir displeasure ; my eourlV.-, 
 my duty ; and my speech, to beg your pardons. If 
 you look for a good speech now, you undo me : for 
 what I have to say, is of mine own making ; and 
 what, indeed, I should say, will, I doubt, prove 
 mine own marring. But to the purpose, and so to 
 the venture. Be it known to you, (as it is very 
 well,) I was lately here in the end of a displeasing 
 play, to pray your patienco for it, and to promise 
 you a better. I did mean, indeed, to pay you with 
 this ; which if, like an ill venture, it come unluck- 
 ily home, I break, and you, my gentle creditors, 
 lose. Here, I promised you, I would be, and here 
 I commit my body to your mercies : bate me some, 
 and I will pay you some, and, as most debtors do, 
 promise you infinitely. , 
 
 If my tongue cannot entreat you to., acquit me, 
 will you command me to use my.jlegs"? and yet 
 that were but light payment, to dance $ut of your 
 debt. _But a good conscience will make any possi- 
 ble satisfaction, and so will I. All the gentlewo- 
 men here have forgiven me ; if the gentlemen will 
 not, then the gentlemen do not agree with the gen- 
 tlewomen, which was never seen before in such an 
 assembly. 
 
 One word more, I beseech you. If you be not 
 too much cloyed with fat meat, our humble author 
 will continue the story, with sir John in it, and 
 make you merry with fair Katharine of France : 
 where, for any thing I know, Falstaff shall die of a 
 sweat, unless already he be killed with your hard 
 opinions ; for Oldcastle died a martyr, and this is 
 not the man. My tongue is weary ; when my legs 
 are too, I will bid you good night : and so kneel 
 down before you; but, indeed, to pray for the 
 queen. 
 
 the First and Second Paris of Henry the Fourth. 
 Perhaps no author has ever, in two plays, afforded 
 so much delight. The great events are interesting, 
 for the fate of kingdoms depends upon them ; the 
 slighter occurrences are diverting, and, except one 
 or two, sufficiently probable; the incidents arc 
 multiplied with wonderful fertility of invention ; 
 and the characters diversified with the utmost 
 nicety of discernment, and the profoundest skill in 
 the nature of man. 
 
 The prince, who is the hero both of the comic 
 and tragic part, is a young man of great abilities, 
 and violent passions, whose sentiments arc right, 
 though his actions arc wrong; whose virtues are 
 obscured by negligence, and whose understanding 
 is dissipated by levity. In his idle hours he is 
 . rather loose than wicked ; and when the occasion 
 If forces out his latent qualities, he is great without 
 effort, and brave without tumult. The trifler is 
 roused into a hero, and the hero again reposes in 
 the triSer. The character is great, original, and just. 
 
 Percy is a rugged soldier, choleric and quarrel- 
 some, and has only the soldier'? virtues, generosity 
 and courage. 
 
 But Fafstaff! uniinitated, unimitaljle FalstaflT! 
 how shall I describe thee? thou compound of sense 
 and vice ; of sense which may be admired, but not 
 esteemed ; of vice which may be despised, but 
 hardly detested. Falstafl" is a character loaded 
 with faults, and with those faults which naturally 
 produce contempt. He is a thief nnd a glutton, a 
 coward and a boaster; always ready to cheat the 
 weak, and prey upon the poor ; to terrify the timo- 
 rous, and insult the defenceless. At once obsequi- 
 ous and malignant, he satirizes in their absence 
 those whom he lives by flattering. He is familiar 
 with the prince only as an agent of vice ; but of 
 this familiarity he is so proud, as not only to be 
 supercilious and haughty with common men, but 
 to think his interest of importance to the duke of 
 Lancaster. Yet the man thus corrupt, thus despi- 
 cable, makes himself necessary to the prince that 
 despises him, by the most pleasing of all qualities, 
 
 I fancy every, reader, when he ends this play, 
 cries out with Desdemona, ' O most lame and im- 
 potent conclusion!' As this play was not, to our 
 Knowledge, divided into acts by the author, I could 
 be content to conclude it with the death of Henry 
 the Fourth : 
 
 ' In that Jerusalem shall Harry die.' 
 
 These scenes, which now make the fifth net 
 Henry the Fourth, might then be the first of Henry 
 the Fifth; but the truth is, that they do not unite 
 very commodiously to either play. When these 
 plays were represented, I believe they ended as they 
 are now ended in the books ; but Shakspeare seems 
 to have designed that the whole series of action, 
 from the beginning^ of Richard the Second, to the 
 end of Henry the fifth, should be considered by 
 the reader as one work upon one plan, only broken 
 "nto parts by the necessity of exhibition. 
 
 Np.ne of "Shakspeare's plays are more read than 
 
 perpetual gaiety ; by an unfailinsr power of exciting 
 laughter, which is the more freely indulged, as his 
 wit is not of the splendid or ambitious kind, but 
 consists in easy scapes and sallies of levity, which 
 make sport, but raise no envy. It must be ob- 
 served, that he is stained with no enormous or san- 
 guinary crimes, so that his licentiousness is not so 
 offensive but that it may be borne for his mirth. 
 
 The moral to be drawn from this representation 
 is, that no man is more dangerous than he that, with 
 a will to-corrupt, hath the power to please ; and 
 that neither wit nor honesty ought to think them- 
 selves safe with such a companion, when they see 
 Henry seduced by Falstaff. JOHNSON. 
 
 Mr. Upton thinks these two plays improperly 
 called the First and Second Parts of Henry the 
 Fourth. The first play ends, he says, with the 
 peaceful settlement of Henry in the kingdom by 
 of the defeat of the rebels. This is hardly true ; for 
 the rebels are not yet finally suppressed. The 
 second, he tells us, shows Henry the Fifth in the 
 Various lights of a good-natured rake, till, on his 
 father's death, he assumes a more manly character. 
 This is true ; but this representation gives us no 
 idea of a dramatic action. These two plays will 
 appear to every reader, who shall peruse them 
 without ambition of critical discoveries, to be so 
 connected, that the second is merely a sequel to 
 the first ; to be two, only because they are too 
 Jong to be one. JOHNSON.
 
 ( 439 ) 
 
 KING HENRY V, 
 
 PERSONS REPRESENTED. 
 
 King Henry the Fifte. 
 
 Duke of Exeter, unAe to the king. 
 
 Duke of York, cousin to the king. 
 
 Earls of Salisbury, Westmoreland, and Warwick. 
 
 Archbishop of Cauterburv. 
 
 Bishop of Eh. 
 
 Earl of Cambridge, ) 
 
 Lord Scroop, > conspirators against the king. 
 
 Sir Thomas Grey, ) 
 
 Sir Thomas Erpingham, Gower, Fluellen, Mac- 
 
 morris, Jamv, officers in king Henry's army** 
 Bates, Court, Williams, soldiers in the sar.ie. J 
 iNym, Bardolph, Pistol, formerly servants to Fal- 
 
 staff", now soldiers in tfe same. 
 Boy, servant to them, .i Herald. Chorus. 
 
 Charles the Sixthj king of France. 
 
 Lewis, the dauphin. 
 
 Dukes o/Burgundv, Orleans, and Boarbon. 
 
 The Constable of France. 
 
 Rainbures, and Grandpre, French lords. 
 
 Governor o/Harfleur. Montjoy, a Frmcli lieraUL 
 
 slmbassadors to the king of England. 
 
 Isabel, queen nf France. 
 Katharine, daughter of Charles and Isabel. 
 Alice, a lady attending on the princess Katharine. 
 Ciuickly, Pistol's wife, a hostess. 
 
 Lards, ladies, officers, French and English soldier*, 
 messengers, and attendants. 
 
 The Scene, at the beginning of the play, lies in 
 England ; bnt afteiicards, wholly in France. 
 
 Enter Chorus. 
 
 \J, FOR a muse of fire, that would ascend 
 
 The brightest heaven of invention ! 
 
 A kingdom for a stage, princes to act, 
 
 And monarchs to behold the swelling scene ! 
 
 Then should the warlike Harry, like himself, 
 
 Assume the port of Mars ; and, at his heels, 
 
 Leash'd in, like hounds, should famine, sword, and 
 
 fire, 
 
 Crouch for employment. But pardon, gentles all, 
 The flat unraised "spirit, that hath dar'd, 
 On this unworthy scaffold, to bring forth 
 So great an object : Can this cockpit hold 
 The vaity fields of France? or may we cram 
 Within tliis wooden O, 1 the very casques, 1 
 That did affrisht the air at Agincourt? 
 O, pardon ! since a crooked figure may 
 Attest, in little place, a million ; 
 And Itt u?, cyphers to this great accompt, 
 On your imaginary forces 3 work: 
 Suppose, wi'.hin the girdle of these walls 
 Are now ccnfm'd two mighty monarchies, 
 Whose high-upreared and abutting fronts 
 The perilous, narrow ocean parts asunder. 
 Piece out our imperfections with your thoughts : 
 Into a thousand parts divide one man, 
 And make imaginary puissance : 
 Think, when we talk of horses, that you see them 
 Printing their proud hoofs i'the receiving earth : 
 For 'tis your thoughts that now must deck our 
 
 kinsjs, 
 
 Carry them here and there ; jumping o'er times ; 
 Turning the accomplishments of many years 
 Into an hour-glass; For the which supply, 
 Admit me Chorus to this history ; 
 Who, prologue-like, your humble patience pray, 
 Gently to hear, kindly to judge, our play. 
 
 (1) An allusion to the circular form of the 
 theatre. 
 
 ACT I. 
 
 SCENE I. London. An ante-chamber in the 
 King's palace. Enter the Archbishop of Canter- 
 bury, and Bishop o/Ely. 
 
 Canterbury. 
 
 MY lord, I'll tell you, that self bill is urg'd, 
 Which, in the eleventh year o'the last king's reign 
 Was like, and had indeed against us pass'd, 
 But that the EC ambling and unquiet time 
 Did push it out of further question.* 
 
 Ely. But how, my lord, shall we resist it now? 
 
 Cant. It must be thought on'. If it pass against us, 
 We lose the better half of our possession : 
 For all the temporal lands, which men devout 
 By testament have given to the church, 
 Would they strip from us ; being valued thus, 
 As much as would maintain, to the king's honour. 
 Full fifteen earls, and fifteen hundred knights 
 Six thousand and two hundred good esquires ; 
 And, to relief of lazars, and weak age, 
 Of Indigent faint souls, past corporal toil, 
 A hundred alms-houses, right well supplied ; 
 And to the coffers of the king beside, 
 A thousand pounds by the year : Thus runs the bil' , 
 
 Ely. This would drink deep. 
 
 Cant. 'Twould drink the cup and a!U 
 
 Ely. But what prevention ? 
 
 Cant. The king is full of grace, and fair regard. 
 
 Ely. And a true lover of the holy church. 
 
 Cant. The courses of his youth promis'd it not. 
 The breath no sooner left his father's body, 
 But that his wildness, mortified in him, 
 Seem'd to die too : yea, at that very moment, 
 Consideration like an angel came, 
 And whipp'd the offending Adam out of him ; 
 Leaving his body as a paradise, 
 To envelop and contain celestial spirits. 
 Never was such a sudden scholar made : 
 
 (2) Helmets. (3) Powers of fancy. (4) Debate,
 
 440 
 
 KING HENR? V. 
 
 Jet I. 
 
 Never came reformation in a flood, 
 With such a heady current, scouring faults ; 
 Nor never Hydra-headed wilfulness 
 So soon did lose his seat, and all at once, 
 As in this king. 
 Ely. We are blessed in the change. 
 
 Cant. Hear him but reason in divinity, 
 And, alVadmiring, with an inward wish 
 You would desire, the king were made a prelate : 
 Hear him debate of commonwealth affairs, 
 You would say, it hath been all-in-all his study : 
 List 1 his discourse of war, and you shall hear 
 A fearful battle render'd you in music : 
 Turn him to any cause of policy, 
 The Gordian knot of it he will unloose, 
 Familiar as his garter ; that, when he speaks, 
 The air, a charter'd libertine, is still, 
 And the mute wonder lurketh in men's ears, 
 To steal his sweet and honeyed sentences ; 
 So that the art and practic part of life 
 Must be the mistress to this theoric : 2 
 Which is a wonder, how his otace should glean it, 
 Since his addiction was to courses vain : 
 His companies 3 unletter'd, rude, and shallow ; 
 His hours fill'd up with riots, banquets, sports ; 
 And never noted in him any study, 
 Any retirement, any sequestration 
 From open haunts and popularity. 
 
 Ely. The strawberry grows underneath the net- 
 tle; 
 
 And wholesome berries thrive and ripen best, 
 Neighbour'd by fruit of baser quality ; 
 And so the prince obscur'd his contemplation 
 Under the veil of wildness ; which, no doubt, 
 Grew like the summer grass, fastest by night. 
 Unseen, vet crescive* in his faculty. 
 
 Cant. It must be so : for miracles are ceas'd ; 
 And therefore we must needs admit th6 means, 
 How things are perfected. 
 
 Ely. Butj my good lord, 
 
 How now for mitigation of this bill 
 Urg'd by the commons ? Doth his majesty 
 Incline to i*, or no ? 
 
 Cant. He seems indifferent ; 
 
 Or, rather, swaying more upon our part, 
 Than cherishing the exhibiters against us : 
 For I have made an offer to his majesty, 
 Upon our spiritual convocation ; 
 And in regard of causes now in hand, 
 Which I have open'd to his grace at large, 
 As touching France, to give a greater sum 
 Than ever at one time the clergy yet 
 Did to his predecessors part withal. 
 
 Ely. How did this offer seem receiv'd, my lord ? 
 
 Cant. With good acceptance of his majesty ; 
 Save, that there was not time enough to hear 
 (As, I perceiv'd, his grace would fain have done,) 
 The severals, and unhidden passages, 
 Of his true titles to some certain dukedoms ; 
 And, generally, to the crown and seat of France, 
 Deriv'd from Edward, his great-grandfather. 
 
 Elv. What was the impediment that broke this 
 off? 
 
 Cant. The French ambassador, upon that instant, 
 Crav'd audience : and the hour, I think, is come, 
 To give him hearing : Is it four o'clock ? 
 
 Ely. It is. 
 
 Cant. Then go we in, to know his embassy ; 
 Which I could, with a ready guess, declare, 
 Before the Frenchman speak a word of it. 
 
 /. I'll wait upon you ; and I long to hear it. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 (I) Listen to. (2) Theory. (3) Companions. (4) Increasing. (5) Spurious. (6) Exolain, 
 
 SCEJVE II. The same. Jl room of state in the 
 same. Enter King Henry, Gloster, Bedford, 
 Exeter, Warwick, Westmoreland, and attend- 
 ants. 
 
 K. Hen. Where is my gracious lord of Canter- 
 bury? 
 
 Exe. Not here in presence. 
 K. Hen. Send for him, good uncle. 
 West. Shall we call in the ambassador, my lieee ?. 
 K. Hen. Not yet, my cousin ; we would be ie 
 
 solv'd, 
 
 Before we hear him, of some things of weight, 
 That task our thoughts, concerning us and France. 
 
 Enter the Archbishop of Canterbury, and Bishop 
 o/Ely. 
 
 Cant. God, and his angels, guard your sacred 
 
 throne, 
 And make you long become it ! 
 
 K. Hen. Sure, we thank you 
 
 My learned lord, we pray you to proceed ; 
 And justly and religiously unfold, 
 Why the law Salique, that they have in France, 
 Or should, or should not, bar us in pur claim. 
 And God forbid, my dear and faithful lord, 
 That you should fashion, wrest, or bow your reading. 
 Or nicely charge your understanding soul 
 With opening titles miscreate, 5 whose right 
 Suits not in native colours with the truth ; 
 For God doth know, how many, now in health, 
 Shall drop their blood in approbation 
 Of what your reverence shall incite us to : 
 Therefore take heed how you impawn our person, 
 How you awake the sleeping sword of war ; 
 We charge you in the name of God, take heed : 
 For never two such kingdoms did contend, 
 Without much fall of blood ; whose guiltless drops 
 Are every one a wo, a sore complaint, 
 'Gainst him, whose wrongs give edge unto the swords 
 That make such waste in brief mortality. 
 Under this conjuration, speak, my lord : 
 And we will hear, note, and believe in heart, 
 That what you speak is in your conscience wash'd 
 As pure as sin with baptism. 
 
 Cant. Then hear me, gracious sovereign, and 
 
 you peers, 
 
 That owe your lives, your faith, and services, 
 To this imperial throne ; There is no bar 
 To make against your highness' claim to France. 
 But this, which they produce from Pharamond, 
 In terram Salicam mulieres ne succedant, 
 .A/o woman shall succeed in Salique land : 
 Which Salique land the French unjustly gloze," 
 To be the realm of France, and Pharamond 
 The founder of this law and female bar. 
 Yet their own authors faithfully affirm, 
 That the land Salique lies in Germany, 
 Between the floods of Sala and of Elbe : 
 Where Charles the great, having subdued the 
 
 Saxons, 
 
 There left behind and settled certain French ; 
 Who, holding in disdain the German women, 
 For some dishonest manners of their life, 
 Establish'd there this law, So wit, no female 
 Should be inheritrix in Salique land ; 
 Which Salique, as I said, 'twixt Elbe and Sala, 
 Is at this day in Germany call'd Meisen. 
 Thus doth it well appear, the Salique law 
 Was not devised for the realm of France : 
 Nor did the French possess the Salique land 
 Until four hundred one and twenty years 
 After defunction of king Pharamond,
 
 Scene II, 
 
 KING HENRY V. 
 
 441 
 
 Idly suppos'd the founder of this law ; 
 
 Who died within the year of our redemption 
 
 Four hundred twenty-six ; and Charles the great 
 
 Subdued the Saxons, and did scat the French 
 
 Beyond the river Sala, in the year 
 
 Eight hundred five. Besides, their writers say, 
 
 King Pepin, which deposed Childerick, 
 
 Did, as heir general, being descended 
 
 Of Blithild, which was daughter to king Clothair, 
 
 Make claim and title to* the crown of France. 
 
 Hugh Capet also, tiiat usurp'd the crown 
 
 Of Charles the duke of Lorain, sole heir male 
 
 Of the true line and stock of Charles tiie great, 
 
 To fine 1 his title with some show of truth, 
 
 (Though, in pure truth, it was corrupt and naught,) 
 
 Convey'd himself 2 as heir to the lady Lingare, 
 
 Daughter to Charlemain, who was the son 
 
 To Lewis the emperor, and Lewis the son 
 
 Of Charles the great. Also king Lewis the tenth, 
 
 Who was sole heir to the usurper Capet, 
 
 Could not keep quiet in his conscience, 
 
 Wearing the crown of France, till satisfied 
 
 That fair queen Isabel, his grandmother, 
 
 Was lineal of the lady Ermengare, ''or you shall rea 
 
 Daughter to Charles the foresaid duke of Lorain : j&er went with 
 
 By the which marriage, the line of Charles the great fit that the Scol 
 
 Was re-united to the crown of France. 
 
 So that, as clear as is the summer's sun, 
 
 King Pepin's title, and Hugh Capet's claim, 
 
 King Lewis his satisfaction, all appear 
 
 To hold in right and title of the female : 
 
 So do the kings of France unto this day ; 
 
 Howhcit they would hold up this Saliquc law, 
 
 To bar your highness claiming from the female ; 
 
 And rather choose to hide them in a net, 
 
 Than amply to imbare 3 their crooked titles 
 
 Usurp'd from you and your progenitors. 
 
 K. Hen. May I, with right and conscience, make 
 this claim ? 
 
 Cant. The sin upon my head, dread sovereign ! 
 For in the book of Numbers is it writ, 
 When the son dies, let the inheritance 
 Descend unto the daughter. Gracious lord, 
 Stand for your own ; unwind your bloody flag ; 
 Look back unto your mighty ancestors : 
 Go, my dread lord, to yo*ur great grandsire's tomb, 
 From whom you claim ; invoke his warlike spirit, 
 And your great uncle's, Edward the black pnnce ; 
 Who on the French ground play'd a tragedy, 
 Making defeat on the full power of France ; 
 Whiles his most mighty father on a hill 
 Stood smiling ; to behold his lion's whelp 
 Forage in blood of French nobility.* 
 O noble English, that could entertain 
 With half their forces the full pride of France : 
 And let another half stand laughing by, 
 All out of work, and cold for action ! 
 
 Ely. Awake remembrance of these valiant dead, 
 And with your puissant arm renew their feats : 
 You are their heir, you sit upon their throne ; 
 The blood and courage, that renowned them, 
 Runs in your veins ; and my thrice-puissant liege 
 Is in the Very May-morn of his youth, 
 Ripe for exploits and mighty enterprises. 
 
 Exe. Your brother kings and monarchs of the 
 
 earth 
 
 Do all expect that you should rouse yourself, 
 As did the former lions of your blood. 
 
 so hath your highness ; never king of England 
 3ad nobles richer, and more loyalsubjects ; 
 Whose hearts have left their bodies here in England, 
 And lie pavilion'd in the fields of France. 
 
 Cant. O, let their bodies follow, my dear liegre, 
 tVith blood, and sword, and fire, to win your right : 
 In aid whereof, we of the spirituality 
 Will raise your highness such a mighty suai, 
 As never did the clergy at one time 
 tiring in to any of your ancestors. 
 
 K. Hen. We must not only arm to invade the 
 
 French ; 
 
 But lay down our proportions to defend 
 Against the Scot, who will make road upon us 
 W ith all advantages. 
 
 Cant. They of those marches, 5 gracious sove- 
 reign. 
 
 Shall he a wall sufficient to defend ^^^^^^ 
 Our inland from the pilfering borderers. 
 
 K. Hen. We do not jgfku the coursing snatchers 
 
 only, 
 
 But fear the main intendment s of the Scot, 
 Who hath been still a giddy neighbour to us ; 
 ''or you shall read, that my great grandfather 
 ith his forces into France, 
 cot on his unfurnish'd kingdom 
 Came pouring, like the tide into a breach, 
 With ample and brim fulness of his force ; 
 Galling the gleaned land with hot essays ; 
 Girding with grievous siege, castles and towns , 
 That England, being empty of defence, 
 Hath shook, and trembled at the ill neighbourhood. 
 
 Cant. She hath been then more tear'd T than 
 
 harm'd, my liege : 
 
 For hear her but exampled by herself, 
 When all her chivalry hath been in France, 
 And she a mourning widow of her nobles, 
 
 She hath herself not only well defended, 
 
 But taken, and impounded as a stray, 
 
 The king of Scots ; whom she did send to France, 
 
 To fill king Edward's fame with prisoner kings ; 
 
 And make your chronicle as rich with praise, 
 
 As is the ooze and bottom of the sea 
 
 With sunken wreck and sumless treasuries. 
 
 West . But there's a saying, very old and true, 
 If that you will France win, 
 Then with Scotland first begin: 
 For once the eagle England being in prey, 
 To her unguarded nest the weasel Scot 
 Comes sneaking, and so sucks her princely eggs ; 
 Playing the mouse, in absence of the cat, 
 To spoil and havoc more than she can eat 
 
 Exe. It follows then, the cat must stay at home : 
 Yet that is but a curs'd necessity ; 
 Since we have locks to safeguard necessaries, 
 And pretty traps to catch the petty thieves. 
 While that the armed hand doth fight abroad, 
 The advised head defends itself at home : 
 For government, though high, and low, and lower 
 Put into parts, doth keep in one concent;' 
 Cpngruing 8 in a full and natural close, 
 Like music. 
 
 Cant. True : therefore doth heaven divide 
 
 The state of man in divers functions, 
 Setting endeavour in continual motion ; . 
 To whicn is fixed, as an aim or butt, 
 Obedience : for so work the honey-bees ; 
 Creatures, that, by a rule in nature, teach 
 
 West. They know, your grace hath cause, and The act of order to a peopled kingdom. 
 
 They have a king, and ofhcers of sorts :" 
 
 means, and might ; 
 
 (1) Make showy or specious. (2) Derived his title. 
 (S) Lay open. " (4) At the battle of Cressy. 
 (5) The borders of England and Scotland. 
 
 (6) General disposition. (7) Frightened. 
 (S) Harmony. (9) Agreeing. 
 
 (10) Different degrees. 
 IK
 
 442 
 
 KING HENRY V, 
 
 -Ad 11, 
 
 Where some, like magistrates, correct at home ; 
 Others, like merchants, venture trade abroad ; 
 Others, like soldiers, armed in their stings, 
 Make boot upon the summer's velvet buds ; 
 Which pillage they with merry march bring home 
 To the tent-royal of their emperor : 
 Who, busied in his majesty, surveys 
 The singing masons building roofs of gold; 
 The civil 1 citizens kneading- up the honey ; 
 The poor mechanic porters crowding in 
 Their heavy burdens at his narrow gate ; 
 The sad-ey'd justice, with his suriy hum, 
 Delivering o'er to executors 2 pale 
 The lazy yawning drone. I this infer, 
 That many things having full reference 
 To one concent, may work contrariously ; 
 As many arrows, loosed several ways, 
 Fly to one mark ; 
 
 As many several ways meet in one town ; 
 As many fresh streams run in one self sea ; 
 As many lines close in the dial's centre ; 
 So may a thousand actions, once afoot, 
 End in one purpose, and be all well borne 
 Without defeat. Therefore to France, my liege. 
 Divide your happy England into four ; 
 Whereof take you one quarter into France, 
 And you withal shall make all Gallia shake. 
 If we, with thrice that power left at home, 
 Cannot defend pur oivn door from the dog, 
 Let us be worried ; and our nation lose 
 The name of hardiness, and policy. 
 K. Hen. Call in the messengers sent from the 
 
 dauphin. 
 [Exit an attendant. The King ascends his 
 
 throne. 
 
 Now are we well resolv'd : and, by God's help, 
 And yours, the noble sinews of our power, 
 France being ours, we'll bend it to our awe, 
 Or break it all to pieces : Or there we'll sit, 
 Ruling in large and ample emperv, 3 
 O'er France, and all her almost kingly dukedoms : 
 Or lay these bones in an unworthy urn, 
 Tpmbless, with no remembrance over them : 
 Either our history shall, with full mouth, 
 Speak freely of ou/ acts ; or else our grave, 
 Like Turkish mute, shall have a tongueless mouth, 
 Not worship'd with a waxen epitaph. 
 
 Enter Ambassadors of France. 
 
 Now are we well prepar'd to know the pleasure 
 Of our fair cousin dauphin ; for, we hear, 
 Your greeting is from him, not from the king. 
 
 9mb. May it please your majesty, to give us leave 
 Freely to render what we have in charge ; 
 Or shall we sparingly show you far off 
 The dauphin's meaning, and our embassy^? 
 
 K. Hen. We are no tyrant, but a Christian king ; 
 Unto whose grace our passion is as subject, 
 As are our wretches fctter'd in our prisons : 
 Therefore, with frank and with uncurbed plainness, 
 Tell us the dauphin's' mind. 
 
 Amb. Thus then, in few. 
 
 Your highness, lately sending into France, 
 Did claim some certain dukedoms, in the right 
 Of your great predecessor, king Edward the third. 
 IK answer of which claim, the prince our master 
 Says, that you savour too much of your youth ; 
 And bids you be advis'd, there's nought in France, 
 That can be with a nimble galliard* won ; 
 
 J Sober, grave. (2) Executioners. 
 Dominion. (4) An ancient dance. 
 
 A place in the tennis-court into which the 
 sometimes struck. 
 
 You cannot revel into dukedoms there : 
 He therefore sends you, meeter for your spirit, 
 This tun of treasure ; and, in lieu of this, 
 Desires you, let the dukedoms, that you claim. 
 Hear no more of you. This the dauphin speaks. 
 
 K . Hen. What treasure, uncle ? 
 
 Exe. Tennis-balls ; my liege. 
 
 K. Hen. We are glad, the dauphin is so plea- 
 sant with us ; 
 
 His present, and your pains, we thank you for : 
 When_we have match'd our rackets to these balls, 
 We will, in France, by God's grace, play a set, 
 Shall strike his father's crown into the hazard ;< 
 Tell him, he hath made a match with such a 
 
 wrangler, 
 
 That all the courts of France will be disturb'd 
 With chaces. B And we understand him well, 
 How he comes o'er us with our wilder days, 
 Not measuring what use we made of them. 
 We never valu'd this poor seat' of England ; 
 And therefore, living hence, 8 did give ourself 
 To barbarous license ; As 'tis ever common, 
 That men are merriest when they are from home. 
 But tell the dauphin, I will keep my state ; 
 Be like a king, and show my sail of greatness, 
 When I do rouse me in my throne of France : 
 For that I have laid by my majesty, 
 And plodded like a man for working days ; 
 But 1 will rise there with so full a glorv, 
 That I will dazzle all the eyes of France, 
 Yea, strike the dauphin blind to look on us. 
 And tell the pleasant prince, this mock of his 
 Hath turn'd his balls to gun-stones ; and his soul 
 Shall stand sore charged for the wasteful vengeance 
 That shall fly with them : for many a thousand 
 
 widows 
 
 Shall this his mock mock out of their dear husbands ; 
 Mock mothers from their sons, mock castles down ; 
 And some are yet ungotten, and unborn, 
 That shall have cause to curse the dauphin's scorn. 
 But this lies all within the will of God, 
 To whom I do appeal ; And in whose name, 
 Tell you the dauphin, I am coining on, 
 To venge me as I may, and to put forth 
 My rightful hand in a well-hallow'd cause. 
 So, get you hence in peace ; and tell the dauphin, 
 His jest will savour but of shallow wit, 
 When thousands weep, more than did laugh at it. 
 Convey them with safe conduct. Fare you well. 
 [Extrtnt Ambassadors. 
 
 Exe. This was a merry message. 
 
 K. Hen. We hope to make the sender blush at it. 
 [Descends from his throne. 
 Therefore, my lords, omit no happy hour, 
 That may give furtherance to our expedition : 
 For we have now no thought in us but France ; 
 Save those to God, that run before our business. 
 Therefore, let our proportions for these wars 
 Be soon collected ; and all things thought upon, 
 That may, with reasonable swiftness, add 
 More feathers to our wings ; for, God before, 
 We'll chide this dauphin at his father's door. 
 Therefore, let every man now task his thought, 
 That this fair action may on foot be brought. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 ACT II. 
 
 Enter Chorus. 
 Chor. Now all the youth of England are on fire 
 
 (6J A term at tennis. (7) The throne. 
 (8) Withdrawing from the court,
 
 Scene I. 
 
 KING HENRY V. 
 
 443 
 
 And silken dalliance in the wardrobe lies ; 
 
 Now thrive the armourers, and honour's thought 
 
 Reigns solely in the breast of every man : 
 
 They sell the pasture now, to buy "the horse ; 
 
 Following the mirror of all Christian kings, 
 
 With winged heels, as English Mercuries. 
 
 For now sits Expectation in the air ; 
 
 And hides a sword, from hilts unto the point, 
 
 VI ith crowns imperial, crowns, and coronets, 
 
 Promis'd to Harry, and his followers. 
 
 The French, advis'd by good intelligence 
 
 Of this most dreadful preparation, 
 
 Shake in their fear; and with pale policy 
 
 Seek to divert the English purposes. 
 
 O England ! model to thy inward greatness, 
 
 Like little body with a mighty heart" 
 
 What mighl'st thou do, that honour would thee do, 
 
 "Were all thy children kind and natural ! 
 
 But see thy fault ! France hath in thee found out 
 
 A nest of hollow bosoms, which he 1 fills 
 
 With treacherous crowns ; and three corrupted 
 
 men, 
 
 One, Richard earl of Cambridge; and the second, 
 Henry lord Scroop of Masham ; and the third, 
 Sir Thomas Grey, knight of Northumberland, 
 Havs-, for the gilt- of France, (O jruilt, indeed!) 
 Conlirm'd conspiracy with fearful France ; 
 And by their hands this grace of kings must die 
 (If hell and treason hold their promises,) 
 Ere he take ship for France, and in Southampton. 
 Linger your patience on ; and well digest 
 The abuse of distance, while we force a play. 
 The sum is paid ; the traitors are agreed ; 
 The king is set from London ; and the scene 
 Is now transported, gentles, to Southampton : 
 There is the playhouse now, there must you sit : 
 And thence to France shall we convey you safe, 
 And bring you back, charming the narrow seas 
 To pive you gentle pass; for, if we may, 
 W r e'll not offend one stomach with our play. 
 But, till the king come forth, and not till then, 
 Unto Southampton do we shift our scene. [Exit. 
 
 SCENE I.The samf. Eastcheap. Enter Nym 
 
 and Bardolph. 
 
 Bard. Well met, corporal Nym. 
 Nym. Good morrow, lieutenant Bardolph. 
 Bard. What, are ancient Pistol and you friends 
 
 have edges. It must be aa it may : though patience 
 be a tired mare, yet she will plod. There must be 
 conclusions. Well, I cannot tell. 
 
 Enter Pistol and Mrs. Quickly. 
 
 Bard. Here comes ancient Pistol, and his wife 
 good corporal, be patient here. How now. mine 
 host Pistol ? 
 
 Pist. Base tike,* call'st thou me host? 
 Now, by this hand I swear, I scorn the term 
 Nor shall my Nell keep lodgers. 
 
 Quick. No, by my troth, not long : for we cannot 
 lodge and board a dozen or fourteen gentlewomen 
 that live honestly by the prick of their needles, but 
 it will be thought we keep a bawdy-house straight. 
 [Nym draws his sword.] O weH-a-day, Lady, if he 
 be not drawn now ! O Lord ! here's corporal 
 Nym's now we shall have wilful adultery and 
 
 murder committed. Good lieutenant Bardoiph, 
 
 good corporal, offer nothing here. 
 
 Nym. Pish ! fMgf 
 
 Pist. Pi.*h for thee, Iceland dog! thou prick-car'd 
 cur of Iceland ! 
 
 Good corporal Nym, show the valour of 
 a mnn, and put up thy sword. 
 
 Nym. Will you shog off? I would have you solus. 
 {Sheathing his sword. 
 
 Pist. Solus, egregious dog ? O viper vile ! 
 The solus in thy most marvellous face ; 
 The sclus in thy teeth, and in thy throat, 
 And in thy hateful lungs, yea, in thy maw, perdy ;* 
 And, which is ivorse, within thy nasty mouth ! 
 I do retort the solus in thy bowels : 
 For I can take, and Pistol's cock is up, 
 And flashing fire will follow. 
 
 Nym. I am not Barbason ; 6 you cannot conjure 
 me. I have a humour to knock you indifferently 
 well : If you grow foul with me, Pistol, I will 
 scour your with my rapier, as I may, in fair terms : 
 If you would walk off, I would pnck your guts a 
 little, in good terms, as I may ; and that's the 
 humour of it. 
 
 Pisi . O braggard vile, and damned furious wight ! 
 The grave doth gape, and doting death is near ; 
 Therefore exhale.' [Pistol and Nym draw. 
 
 Bard. Hear me, hear me what I say : he that 
 strikes the first stroke, I'll run him up to the hilts, 
 as I am a soldier. [Draws. 
 
 Pist. An oath of mickle might ; and fury shall 
 abate. 
 
 that shall be as it may. I dare not fight ; but I will 
 wink, and hold out mine iron : It is a simple one ; 
 but what though? it will toast cheese ; and it will 
 endure cold as another man's sword will : and 
 there's the humour of it. 
 
 Bard. I will bestow a breakfast, to make you 
 friends ; and we'll be all three sworn brothers to 
 France ; let it be so, good corporal Nym. 
 
 Nym. 'Faith, I will live so long as I may, that's 
 the certain of it ; and when I cannot live any longer, 
 1 will do as I may : that is my rest, 3 that is the 
 rendezvous of it. 
 
 Bard. It is certain, corporal, that he is married 
 to Nell Quickly : and, certainly, she did you wrong ; 
 for you were troth-plight to her. 
 
 Nym. I cannot tell ; things must be as they may : 
 men may sleep, and they may have their throats 
 about them at that time j and, some say, knives 
 
 (1) f. e. The king of France. (2) Golden money. 
 (3) What I am resolved on. (4) Clown. 
 (5) Par Dieu ! (6) Name of a demon. 
 
 (7) Breathe your last. 
 
 Vym. I will cut thv throat, one time or other, 
 in fair terms ; that is the humour of it. 
 Pist. Coup le gorge, that's the word? I thee 
 defy again. 
 
 hound of Crete, 8 think'st thou my spouse to get? 
 No ; to the spital 9 go ? 
 
 And from the powdering tub of infamy. 
 Fetch forth the lazar kite of Cressid's kind, 10 
 Doll Tear-sheet she by name, and her espouse : 
 
 1 have, and I will hold, the quondam 11 Quick! v 
 For the only she ; and Pouca, there's enough. 
 
 Enter the Boy. 
 
 Boy. Mine host Pistol, you must come to my 
 master, and you, hostess ; he is very sick, an 
 would to bed. Good Bardolph, put thy nose be- 
 tween his sheets, and do the office of a warming 
 pan : 'faith, he's very ill. 
 
 (8) Bloodhound. (9) Hospital. 
 
 (10) Of Cressida's nature, see the play of Troiliuj 
 and Cressida. 
 
 (11) Formerly,
 
 444 
 
 KING HENRY V. 
 
 Jtcl II. 
 
 Bard. Away, you rogue. 
 
 Quicfc. By my troth, he'll yield the crow a pud- 
 ding one of these days : the king has killed his 
 heart. Good husband, come home presently. 
 
 [Exeunt Mrs. Quickly anil Boy. 
 
 Bard. Come, shall I make you two friends ? \\ e 
 must to France together ; Why, the devil, should 
 we keep knives to cut one another's throats ? 
 
 Pist. Let floods o'erswell, and fiends for food 
 howl on ! 
 
 Nym. You'll pay me the eight shillings I won 
 of you at betting? 
 
 Pist. Base is the slave that pays. 
 
 Nym. That now I will have ; that's the humour 
 of it. 
 
 Pist. As manhood shall compound ; Push home. 
 
 Bard. By this sword, he that makes the first 
 thrust, I'll kill him ; by this sword, I will. 
 
 Pist. Sword is an oath, and oaths must have 
 their course. 
 
 Bard. Corporal Nym, an thou wilt lie friends, 
 be friends : an l.hou wilt not, why theu be enemies 
 with me too. Pry'thce, put up. 
 
 Nym. I shall have my eight shillings, I won of 
 you at betting ? 
 
 Pist. A noble 1 shalt Ihou have, and present pay; 
 And liquor likewise will I give to thee, 
 And friendship shall combine, and brotherhood : 
 I'll live by Nym, and Nym shall live by me ; 
 Is not this just ? for I shall sutler be 
 Unto the camp, and profits will accrue. 
 Give me thy hand. 
 
 Nym. I shall have my noble ? 
 
 Pist. In cash most justly paid. 
 
 Nym. Well then, that's the humour of it. 
 
 Re-enter Mrs. Quickly. 
 
 Qittcfc. As ever you came of women, come in 
 quickly to sir John : Ah, poor heart ! he is so 
 snaked of a burning quotidian tertian, that it is most 
 lamentable to behold. Sweet men, come to him. 
 
 Nym. The king hath run bad humours on the 
 kniffht, that's the even of it. 
 
 Pist. Nym, thou hast spoke the right ; 
 His heart is fracted, and corroborate. 
 
 Nym. The king is a good king : but it must be 
 as it may ; he passes some humours, and careers. 
 
 Pist. Let us condole the knight ; for, lambkins, 
 we will lire. [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE //.Southampton. Jl council-chamber. 
 
 Enter Exeter, Bedford, and Westmoreland. 
 Bed. 'Fore God, his grace is bold, to trust these 
 
 traitors. 
 
 Exe. They shall be apprehended by and by. 
 West. How smooth anQ even they do" bear 
 
 themselves ! 
 
 As if allegiance in their bosom sat, 
 Crowned with faith, and constant loyalty. 
 
 Bed. The king hath note of all that they intend, 
 By interception which they dream not of. 
 
 Exe. Nay, but the man that was his bedfellow, 
 Whom, he hath cloy'd and grac'd with princely 
 
 favours^ 
 
 That he should, for a foreign purse, so sell 
 His sovereign's life td death and treachery ! 
 
 Trumpet sounds. Enter King Henry, Scroop, 
 Cambridge, Grey, Lords, and Attendants. 
 
 K. Hen. Now sits the wind fair, and we will 
 aboard. 
 
 (1) A coin, value six shillings and eight-pence. 
 
 (2) Force. (3) Compounded. (4) Recompense. 
 
 My lord of Cambridge, and my kind lord of 
 Masham, 
 
 And you, my gentle knight, give me your 
 
 thoughts : 
 
 Think you not, that the powers we bear with us, 
 Will cut their passage through the force of France ; 
 Doing the execution, and .the act, 
 For which we have in head 2 , assembled them ? 
 
 Scroop. No doubt, my liege, if each man do his 
 best. 
 
 K. Hen. 1 doubt not that : since we are well 
 
 persuaded, 
 
 We carry not a heart with us from hence, 
 That grows not in a fair consent with ours ; 
 Nor leave not one behind, that doth not wish 
 Success and conquest to attend on us. 
 
 Cam. Never was monarch better fear'd, and lov'd, 
 Than is your majesty ; there's not, I think, a subject, 
 That sits in heart-grief and uneasiness 
 Under the sweet shade of your government. 
 
 Grey. Even those, that were your father's enemies, 
 Have steep'd their palls in honey ; and do serve you 
 With hearts create' of duty anil of zeal. 
 
 A". Hen. We. therefore have great cause of 
 
 thankfulness ; 
 
 And shall forget the office of our hand, 
 Sooner than quittance 4 of desert and merit, 
 According to the weight and worthiness. 
 
 Scroop. So service shall with steeled sinews toil ; 
 And labour shall refresh itself with hope, 
 To do your crrace incessant services. 
 
 K. lien. We judge no less. Uncle of Exeter, 
 Enlarge the man committed yesterday, 
 That rail'd against our person : we consider, 
 It was excess of wine that set him on ; 
 And, on his more advice, 5 we pardon him. 
 
 Scroop. That's mercy, but too much security : 
 Let him be punish'd, sovereign ; lest example 
 Breed, by his sufferance, more of such a kind. 
 
 K. Hen. O, let us yet be merciful. 
 
 Cam. So may your highness, and yet punish too. 
 
 Grey. Sir, you show great mercy, if you give him 
 
 life, 
 After the taste of much correction. 
 
 K. Hen. Alas, your too much love and care of me 
 \re heavy orisons 6 'gainst this poor wretch. 
 If little faults, proceeding on distemper, 
 Shall not be wink'd at, how shall we stretch our eye, 
 When capital crimes, chew'd, swallow'd, and 
 
 digested, 
 
 Appear before us ? We'll yet enlarge that man, 
 Though Cambridge, Scroop, and Grey, in their 
 
 dear care, 
 
 And tender preservation of our person, 
 Would have him punish'd. Aud now to our French 
 
 causes ; 
 Who are the late 7 commissioners ? 
 
 Cam. I one, my lord ; 
 Your highness bade me ask for it to-day. 
 
 Scroop. So did you me, my liege. 
 
 Grey. And me, my royal sovereign. 
 
 K. Hen. Then, 'Richard, earl~of Cambridge, 
 
 there is yours ; 
 There yours, lord Scroop of Masham ; and, sir 
 
 knight, 
 
 3roy of Northumberland, this same is yours : 
 [lead them ; and know, I know your worthiness. 
 Vly lord of Westmoreland, and uncle Exeter, 
 We will aboard to-night. Why, how now, gentle 
 
 men ? * 
 What see you in those papers, that you lose 
 
 (5) Better information. 
 (7) Lately appointed. 
 
 (6) Prayers.
 
 Scent III. 
 
 IvING HENRY V. 
 
 44ft 
 
 So much complexion ? Look ye, how they change ! ; For this revolt of thine, methinks, is like 
 Their cheeks are paper. Why, what read 3 ou Another fall of man. Their faults are open 
 _,, . , ,[ herc ' Arrest them to the answer of the law ; 
 
 That hath so cowarded and chas'd your blood And God acquit them of their practices ! 
 
 Exe. I arrest thee of high treason, by the name of 
 Richard earl of Cambridge. 
 I arrest thee of high treason, by the name of Henry 
 
 Out of appearance ? 
 
 Cam. I do confess my fault ; 
 
 And do submit me to your highness' mercy. 
 
 Grey. Scroop. To which we all appeal. 
 
 K. Hen. The mercy, that was quick 1 in us but late, 
 By your own counsel is suppress'd and kill'd : 
 You must not dare, for shame, to talk of mercy ; 
 For your own reasons turn into your bosoms, 
 As dogs upon their masters, worrying them. 
 See you, my princes, and my noble peers, 
 These English monsters ! jYIy lord of Cambridge 
 
 here, 
 
 You know, how apt our love was, to accord 
 To furnish him with ail anpertinents 
 Belonging to his honour ; and this man 
 Hath, tor a few lizht crowns, lightly conspir'd, 
 And sworn unto the practices of France, 
 To kill us here in Hampton : to the which, 
 This knight, no less for bounty bound to us 
 Than Cambridge is, hath likewise sworn. But O ! 
 What shall I say to thee, lord Scroop ; thou cruel, 
 Ingrateful, savage, and inhuman creature ! 
 Thou, that didst bear the key of all my counsels, 
 That knew'st the very bottom of my soul, 
 That almost might'st have coin'd me into gold, 
 Would'st thou have practis'd on me for thy use ? 
 May it be possible, that foreign hire 
 Could out of thee extract one spark of evil, 
 That might annoy my finger ? 'tis so strange, 
 That, though the truth of it stands off as gross 
 As black from white, my eye will scarcely see it. 
 Treason, and murder, ever kept together, 
 As two yoke-devils sworn to cither's purpose, 
 Working so grossly in a natural cause, 
 That admiration did not whoop at them : 
 But thou, 'gainst all proportion, didst bring hi 
 Wonder, to wait on treason, and on murder : 
 And whatsoever cunning fiend it was, 
 That wrought upon thee so preposterously, 
 H'ath got the voice in hell for excellence : 
 And other devils, that suggest by treasons, 
 Do botch and bungle up damnation 
 With patches, colours, and with forms being feich'd 
 From glistering semblances of piety ; 
 But he, that tcmper'd'- thee, bade thee stand up, 
 Gave thee no instance why thou should'st do treason, 
 Unless to dub thoc with the name of traitor. 
 If that same daemon, that hath gull'd thee thus, 
 Should with his lion gait 3 walk the whole world, 
 He might return to vasty Tartar 4 back, 
 And tell the legions I can never win 
 A soul so easy as that Englishman's. 
 O, how hast thou with jealousy infected 
 The sweetness of affiance ! Show men dutiful ? 
 Whv, so didst thou : Seem they grave and learned ? 
 Why, so didst thou : Come they of noble family ? 
 Why, so didst thou : Seem they religious ? 
 Whv, so didst thoa : Or are they spare in diet ; 
 Free from gross passion, or of mirth, or anger; 
 Constant in spirit, not swerving with the blood ; 
 Garnish'd and deck'd in modest complement ;' 
 Not working with the eye, without the ear, 
 And, but in purged judgment, trusting neither? 
 Such, and so linelv bolted/ didst thou seem : 
 And thus thy fall hath left a kind of blot, 
 To mark the full-fraught man, and best indued," 
 With some suspicion. I will weep for thee ; 
 
 (1) Living. (2) Rendered thee pliable. 
 (3) Pace, step. (4) Tartarus. 
 
 lord Scroop of Masham. 
 
 I arrest, thee of high treason, by the name of 
 Thomas Grey, knight of Northumberland. 
 
 Scroop. Our purposes God justly hath discoer'd ; 
 And I repent my fault, more than my death ; 
 Which 1 beseech your highness to forgive, 
 Although my body pay the price of it. 
 
 Cam. For me, the gold of France did not seduce ; 
 Although I did admit it as a motive, 
 The sooner to effect what I intended: 
 But God be thanked for prevention ; ffr, - 
 Which I in sufferance heartily will rejoice, 
 Beseeching God, and yon, to'pardon me. 
 
 Grey. Never did faithful subject more rejoice 
 At the discovery of most dangerous treason, 
 Thau J do at this hour jov o'er myself, 
 Prevented from a damned enterprise : 
 
 :!t. but not my body, pardon, sovereign. 
 
 A. Hen. God quit you in his mercy ! Hear your 
 
 sentence. 
 
 You have conspir'd against our royal person, 
 Join'd with an ci\cmy proclaim'd, and from his 
 
 coffers 
 
 Receiv'd the golden earnest of our death ; 
 Wherein you would have sold your king to slaughter, 
 His princes and his peers to servitude, 
 His subjects to oppression and contempt, 
 And his whole kingdom unto desolation. 
 Touching our person, seek we no revenge ; 
 But we our kingdom's safety must so tender, 
 Whose ruin you three sought, that to her laws 
 We do deliver you. Get you therefore hence, 
 Poor miserable wretches, to your death : 
 The taste whereof, God, of his mercy, give you 
 Patience to endure, and true repenta'nce 
 Of all your dear offences ! Bear them hence. 
 
 [Exeunt conspirators guarded. 
 Now, lords, for France ; the enterprise whereof 
 Shall be to you, as us, like glorious. 
 We doubt not of a fair and lucky war ; 
 Since God so graciously hath brought to light 
 This dangerous treason, lurking in our way, 
 To hinder our beginnings, we doubt not now, 
 But every rub is smoothed on our way. 
 Then, forth, dear count rymen : let us deliver 
 Our puissance into the hand of God, 
 Putting it straight in expedition. 
 Cheerly to sea ; the sisns of war advance : 
 No king of England, if not king of France. [Ext. 
 
 SCENE ///.London. Mrs. Quickly's house in 
 
 Eastcheap. E?i/er Pistol, Mrs. Quickly, Nym, 
 
 Bardolph, and Boy. 
 
 Quick. Pr'ythee, honey-sweet husband, let me 
 brin-r* thee to Stajnes. 
 
 Pist. No ; for my manly heart doth yearn.* 
 Bardolph, be blithe ; Nym, rouse thy vaunting 
 
 veins ; 
 
 Boy, bristle thy coura<re up ; for Falstaffhe is dead, 
 And we must yearn therefore. 
 
 Bard. 'Would, I were with him, wheresome'er 
 he is, either in heaven, or in hell ! 
 
 Quick. Nay, sure, he's not in hell ; he's in Ar- 
 thur's bosom, if ever man went to Arthur's bosom. 
 
 (5) Accomplishment (6) Sifted. (7) Endowed. 
 (8) Attend. (9) Grieve.
 
 446 
 
 KING HENRY V. 
 
 'A made a finer end, and went away, an it had 
 been any christom 1 child ; 'a'parted even just be- 
 tween twelve and one, e'en at turning o'the tide ; 
 for after I saw him fumble with the sheets, and 
 
 Flay with flowers, and smile upon his fingers' ends, 
 knew there was but one way; for his nose was 
 as sharp as a pen, and 'a babbled of green fields. 
 How now, sir John ? quoth I : what, man ! be of 
 good cheer. So 'a cried out God, God, God ! 
 three or four times : now I, to comfort him, bid 
 him, 'a should not think of God ; I hoped, there 
 was no need to trouble himself with any such 
 thoughts yet: So, 'a bade me lay more clothes on 
 his feet : I put my hand into the bcc!, and felt them, 
 and they were as cold as any stone ; then I felt to 
 his knees, and so upward, at:d upward, and all 
 was as cold as any stone. 
 
 JVi/w. They say, he cried out for sack. 
 
 Quick. Ay, that 'a did. 
 
 Hard. And of women. 
 
 Quick. Nay, that 'a did not. 
 
 Boy. Yes, that 'a did ; and said, they were devils 
 incarnate. 
 
 Quicft. 'A could never abide carnation ; 'twas a 
 colour he never liked. 
 
 Boy. 'A said once, the devil would have him 
 about women. 
 
 Quick. 'A did in some sort, indeed, handle wo- 
 men : but then he was rheumatic ; 2 and talked of 
 the whore of Babylon. 
 
 Boy. Do you not remember, 'a saw a flea slick 
 upon Bardolph's nose ; and 'a said, it was a black 
 BOul burning in hell-lire? 
 
 Bard. Well, the fuel is gone, that maintained 
 that fire : that's all the riches I got in his service. 
 
 Nym. Shall we shog off ? the king will be gone 
 from Southampton. 
 
 Plst. Come, lot's away. My love, give me thy 
 
 lips. 
 
 Look to my chattels, and my moveables : 
 Let senses rule ; the word is, Pilch and Pay; 
 Trust none ; 
 
 For oaths are straws, men's faiths are wafer-cakes, 
 And hold-fast is the only dog, my duck ; 
 Therefore, caveto be thy counsellor. 
 Go, clear thy crystajs. 3 Yoke-fellows in arms, 
 Let us to France ! like horse-leeches, my boys ; 
 To suck, to suckj the very blood to suck ! 
 
 Boy. And that is but unwholesome food, they say. 
 
 Pist. Touch her soft mouth, and march. 
 
 Bard. Farewell, hostess. [Kissing her. 
 
 .Yt/rn. I cannot kiss, that is the humour of it ; 
 but adieu. 
 
 Pist . Let housewifery appear ; keep close, I thee 
 command. 
 
 Quick. Farewell ; adieu. [Exeunt. 
 
 SCEJVE IV. France. A room in the French 
 Kind's palace. Enter the French Kin? attended; 
 the Dauphin, the Duke of Burgundy, the Consta- 
 ble, and others. 
 
 FA King. Thus come the English with full power 
 
 upon us ; 
 
 And more than carefully it us concerns, 
 To answer royally in our defences. 
 Therefore the dukes of Berry, and of Bretagne, 
 Of Brabant, and of Orleans, shall make forth, 
 And you, prince dauphin, with all swift despatch, 
 To line, and new repair, our towns of war, 
 With men of courage, and with means defendant : 
 
 (1) A child not more than a month old. 
 
 (2) Mrs. Quickly means lunatic, 
 
 (3) Dry thy eyes, 
 
 For England his approaches makes as fierce, 
 As waters to the sucking of a gulf. 
 It fits us then, to be as provident 
 As fear may teach us, out of late examples 
 I Left by the fatal and neglected English 
 ' Upon our fields. 
 
 Dan. My most redoubled father, 
 
 It is most meet we arm us 'gainst the foe : 
 For peace itself should not so dull 4 a kingdom, 
 (Though war, nor no known quarrel, were in 
 
 question,) 
 
 But that defences, musters, preparations, 
 Should be maintain'd, assembled, and collected, 
 As were a war in expectation. 
 Therefore. I say, 'tis meet we all go forth, 
 To view the sick and feeble parts of France : 
 And let us do it with no show of fear ; 
 No, with no more, than if we heard that England 
 Were busied with a Whitsun morris-dance : 
 For, my good liege, she is so idly king'd, 
 Her sceptre so fantastically borne 
 By a vain, giddy, shallow, humorous youth, 
 That fear attends her not. 
 
 Con. O peace, prince dauphin ! 
 
 You are too much mistaken in this king : 
 Question your grace the late ambassadors, 
 With what great state he heard their embassy. 
 How well supplied with noble counsellors, 
 How modest in exception, 1 and, withal, 
 How terrible in constant resolution, 
 And you shall find, his vanities fore-spent 8 
 Were but the outside of the Roman Brutus, 
 Covering discretion with a coat of folly ; 
 As gardeners do with ordure hide those roota 
 That shall first spring, and be most delicate. 
 
 Dan. Wei!, 'tis not so, my lord high constable, 
 But tffough we think it so, it is no matter : 
 In cases of defence, 'tis best to iveigh 
 The enemy more mighty than he seems, 
 So the proportions of defence are fill'd ; 
 Which, of a weak and niggardly projection, 
 Doth, like a miser, spoil his coat, with scanting 
 A little cloth. 
 
 Fr. King. Think we king Harry strong ; 
 And, princes, look, you strongly arm to meet him. 
 The kindred of him hath been nesh'd upon us ; 
 And he is bred out of that bloody strain, 7 
 That haunted us in our familiar paths: 
 Witness our too much memorable shame, 
 When Cressy battle fatally was struck, 
 And all our princes captiv'd, by the hand 
 Of that black name, Edward black prince of Wales; 
 Whiles that his mountain sire, on mountain 
 
 standing, 
 
 Up in the air, crbwn'd with the golden sun, 
 Saw his heroical seed, and smil'd to see him 
 Mangle the work of nature, arid deface 
 The patterns that by God and by French fathers 
 Had twenty years been made. This is a stem 
 Of that victorious stock ; and let us fear 
 The native mightiness and fate of him. 
 
 Enter a Messenger. 
 
 Meas. Ambassadors from Henry king of England 
 Do crave admittance to your majesty. 
 Fr. King. We'll give them present audience. 
 Go, and bring them. 
 
 [Exe. Mess, and certain Lords, 
 
 You see, this chace is hotly follow'd, friends. 
 
 (4J Render it callous, insensible. 
 
 (5) In making objections. 
 
 (6) Wasted, exhausted. (7) Lineage,
 
 Scent L 
 
 KING HENRY V. 
 
 447 
 
 DOM. Turn head, and stop pursuit: for coward) 
 
 dogs 
 Must spend their mouths, when what they seem to 
 
 threaten, 
 
 Runs far before them. Good my sovereign, 
 T;ike up the English short ; and let tyie 
 Of what a monarchy you are the head : 
 Self-love, my liege, is not so vile a sin 
 As self-neglecting. 
 
 Re-enter Lairds, with Exeter and train, 
 
 Fr. King. Fronl our brother England ? 
 
 Exe . From him ; and thus he erects your majesty. 
 He wills you, in the name of God Almighty, 
 That vou divest yourself, and lay apart 
 The b'orrow'd glories, that, by gift of heaven, 
 By law of nature, and of nations, 'long 
 To him, and to his heirs ; namely, the crown, 
 And all wide-stretched honours that pertain, 
 By custom and the ordinance of times, 
 'Unto the crown of France. That you may know, 
 'Tis no sinister, nor no awkward claim, 
 Pick'd from the worm-holes of long-vanish'd days, 
 Nor from the dust of old oblivion rak'd, 
 He sends you this most memorable line x 
 
 [Gires a paper. 
 
 In every branch truly demonstrative ; 
 Willing you, overlook this pedigree : 
 And, when you find him evenly deriv'd 
 From his most fam'd of famous ancestors, 
 Edward the third, he bids you then resign 
 Your crown and kingdom, indirectly held 
 From him the native and true challenger. 
 
 Fr. King. Or else what follows ? 
 
 Exe. Bloody constraint; for if you hide the crown 
 Even in your hearts, there will he rake for it : 
 And therefore in fierce tempest is he coming, 
 In thunder, and in earthquake, like a Jove ; 
 (That, if requiring fail, he will compel ;) 
 And bids you, in the bowels of the Lord, 
 Deliver up the crown ; and to take mercy 
 On the poor souls, for whom this hungry" war 
 Opens his vasty jaws : and on your head 
 Turns he the widows' tears, the orphans' cries, 
 The dead men's blood, the pining maidens' groans, 
 For husbands, fathers, and betrothed lovers, 
 That shall be swallow'd in this controversy. 
 This is his claim, his threat'ning, and my message ; 
 Unless the dauphin be in presence here, 
 To whom expressly I bring greeting too. 
 
 Fr. King. For us, we will consider of this further: 
 To-morrow shall you bear our full intent 
 Back to our brother England. 
 
 Dan. For the dauphin, 
 
 I stand here for him ; What to him from Ens-land ? 
 
 Exe. Scorn, and defiance ; slight regard, .con- 
 tempt, 
 
 And any thing that may not misbecome 
 The mighty sender, doth he prize you at. 
 Thus says my king : and, if your father's highness 
 Do not, "in grant of all demands at large, 
 Sweeten the bitter mock you sent his majesty, 
 He'll call you to so hot an answer for it, 
 That caves and womby vaultages of France 
 Shall chide 1 your trespass, and return your mock 
 In second accent of his ordnance. 
 
 Dau. Say, if my father render fair reply, 
 It is against my will : for I desire 
 Nothing but odds with England ; to that end, 
 As matching to his youth and vanity, 
 J did present him with those Paris balls. 
 
 Exe. He'll make your Paris Louvre shake for it, 
 Were it the mistress court of mighty Europe : 
 And, be assur'd, you'll find a difference 
 [As we, his subjects, have in wonder found,) 
 Between the promise of his greener days, 
 \nd these he masters now ; now he weighs time, 
 Even to the utmost grain ; which you shall read 
 *n your own losses, if he stay in France. 
 Fr. King. To-morrow shall you know our mind 
 
 at full. 
 Exe. Despatch us with all speed, lest that our 
 
 king 
 
 2ome here himself to question our delay ; 
 "or he is footed in this land already. 
 JFV. King. You shall be soon dispatch'd, with 
 
 fair conditions : 
 
 \ night is but small breath, and little pause, 
 To answer matters of this consequence. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 (1) Resound, echo. 
 (3) Sterns of the ships. 
 
 (2) Bank or shore, 
 
 ACT 111. 
 
 Enter Chorus. 
 
 Cho. Thus with imagin'd wing our swift scene 
 
 flies, 
 
 [n motion of no less celerity 
 Than that of thought. Suppose, that you have seen 
 The well-appointed king at Hampton pier 
 Embark his royalty ; arid his brave fleet 
 With silken streamers the young Phcrbus fanning. 
 Play with your fancies ; and in them behold, 
 Upon the hempen tackle, ship-boys climbing : 
 Hear the shrill whistle, which doth order give 
 To sounds confus'd : behokl the threaden sails, 
 Borne with the invisible and creeping wind, 
 Draw the huge bottoms through the furrow'd sea, 
 Breasting the lofty surge : 0, do but think, 
 You stand upon the riyage 2 and behold 
 A city on the inconstant billows dancing ; 
 For so appears this fleet majestical. 
 Holding due course to Harfieur. Follow, follow ! 
 Grapple yoar minds to sternagc* of this navy; 
 And leave your England, as dead midnight, still, 
 Guarded with grandsires, babies, and old women, 
 Either past, or not arriv'd to, pith and puissance : 
 For who is he, whose chin is but enrich'd 
 With one appearing hair, that will not follow 
 These cull'd and choice-drawn cavaliers to France ? 
 Work, work, your thoughts, and therein see a siege : 
 Behold the ordnance on their carriages, 
 With fatal mouths gaping on girded Harfleur. 
 Suppose, the ambassador from the French comes 
 
 back ; 
 
 Tells Harry that the king doth ofler him 
 Katharine his daughter ; and with her, to dowry, 
 Some petty and unprofitable dukedoms. 
 The oner likes not : and the nimble gunner 
 \Vilh linstock* now the devilish cannon touches, 
 
 [JUeunim .- arid chambers* go off. 
 And down goes all before them. Still be kind, 
 And eke out our performance with your mind. 
 
 [Exit. 
 
 SCEJVE I. The same. Before Harfleur. Ala- 
 rums. nter King Henry, Exeter, ' Bedford, 
 Gloster, and soldiers, with scaling-ladders. 
 K.Hen. Once more unto the breach, dear friends, 
 once more ; 
 
 Or close the wall up with our English dead ! 
 
 (4) The staff which holds the match used in firing 
 cannon. 
 
 (5) Small pieces of ordnance.
 
 448 
 
 KING HENRY V. 
 
 Jlct IIL 
 
 In peace, there's nothing so becomes a man, 
 
 As modest stillness, and humility : 
 
 But when the blast of war blows in our ears, 
 
 Then imitate the action of the tiger ; 
 
 Stiffen the sinews, summon up the blood, 
 
 Disguise fair nature with hard-favour'd rage ! 
 
 Then lend the eye a terrible aspe'ct ; 
 
 Let it pry through the portage of the head, 
 
 Like the brass cannon ; let the brow o'erwhelm it, 
 
 As fearfully, as doth a galled rock 
 
 O'erhang and j titty 1 his confounded 2 base, 
 
 Swill'd with the wild and wasteful ocean. 
 
 Now set the teeth, and stretch the nostril wide ; 
 
 Hold hard the breath, and bend up every spirit 
 
 To his full height ! On, on, you noblest English, 
 
 I Jfym. These be good humours ! your honour 
 twins bad humours. 
 
 [Exeunt Nym, Pistol, and Bardolph, fol- 
 lowed by Fluellen. 
 
 Boy. As young as I am, I have observed these 
 three swashers. I am boy to them all three but all 
 they three, though they would serve me, could not 
 be man to me ; for, indeed, three such antics do 
 not amount to a man. For Bardolph, he is white- 
 livered, and red-faced ; by the means whereof, 'a 
 faces it out, but fights not. For Pistol, he hath a 
 killing tongue, and a quiet sword ; by the means 
 whereof 'a breaks words, and keeps whole weapons. 
 For Nym, he hath heard, that men of few words 
 are the best' men ; and therefore he scorns to say 
 
 j his prayers, lest 'a should be thought a coward ; but 
 his few bad words are match'd with as few good 
 deeds ; for 'a never broke any man's head but his 
 and that was against a post, when he was 
 
 drunk. They will steal any thing, and call it, 
 
 Whose blood is fet 3 from fathers of war-proof! 
 
 Fathers, that, like so many Alexanders, 
 
 Have, in these parts, from morn till even fought, 
 
 And sheath'd their swords for lack of argument. 4 
 
 Dishonour not your mothers ; now attest, , , - _, 
 
 That those, whom you call'd fathers, did beget! purchase. Bardolph stole a lute-case; bore it 
 vou ! twelve leagues, and sold it for three halfpence. 
 
 Be copy now to men of grosser blood, Nym and Bardolph, are sworn brothers in filching ; 
 
 And teach them how to war! And you, good and in Calais they stole a fire-shovel: I knew, by 
 
 that piece of service, the men would carry coals.* 
 They would have me as familiar with men's pockets, 
 as their gloves or their handkerchiefs : which makes 
 
 yeomen, 
 
 Whose limbs were made in England, show us here 
 The mettle of your pasture ; let us swear 
 That you are worth your breeding : which I doubt 
 
 not ; 
 
 For there is none of you so mean and base. 
 That hath not noble lustre in your eyes. 
 I see you stand like greyhounds in the slips, 
 Straining upon the start. The game's afoot ; 
 Follow your spirit : and, upon this charge, 
 Cry God for Harry! England! and Saint George! 
 [Exeunt. Alarum, and chambers go off. 
 
 SCENE II. The same. Forces pass over ; then 
 enter Nym, Bardolph, Pistol, and Boy. 
 
 Bard. On, on, on, on, on ! to the breach, to the 
 breach ! 
 
 \ JVynu 'Pray thee, corporal, stay ; the knocks 
 
 are too hot ; and, for mine own part, I have not a 
 
 case of lives : the humour of it is too hot, that is 
 
 the very plain-song of it. 
 
 Pist. The plain-song is most just; for humours 
 
 do abound ; 
 
 Knocks go and come ; God's vassals drop and die ; 
 And sword and shield, 
 In bloody field, 
 Doth win immortal fame. 
 
 Boy. 'Would I were in an ale-house in London ! 
 I would give all my fame for a pot of ale, and safety. 
 fist. And I : 
 
 If wishes would prevail with me, 
 My purpose should not fail with me, 
 
 But thither would I hie. 
 Boy. As duly, but not as truly, r as bird doth sing 
 
 on bough. 
 
 Enter Pluellen. 
 
 Flu. Got's plood ! Up to the preaches, you 
 rascals ! will you not up to the preaches ? 
 
 [Driving them forward' 
 
 Pist, Be merciful, eTetduke, 5 tomenofmould! 6 
 Abate thy rage, abate thy manly rage ! 
 Abate thy rage', great duke ! 
 Good bawcock, bate thy rage ! use lenity, sweet 
 chuck ! 
 
 much against my manhood, if I should take from 
 another's pocket, to put into mine ; for it is plain 
 pocketing up of wrongs. I must leave them, and 
 seek some better service : their villany goes against 
 my weak stomach, and therefore I must cast it up. 
 
 [Exit Boy. 
 
 Re-enter Fluellen, Gower following. 
 
 Gow. Captain Fluellen, you must come presently 
 to the mines ; the duke of Gloster would speak 
 with you. 
 
 Fiu. To the mines ! tell you the duke, it is not 
 so good to come to the mines : For, look you, the 
 mines is not according to the disciplines of the war ; 
 the concavities of it is not sufficient ; for, look 
 vou, th' athversary (you may discuss unto the duke, 
 look you, ) is dight 9 himself four yards under the 
 countermines: by Cheshu, I think, 'a will plow 10 
 up all, if there is not better directions. 
 
 Goto. The duke of Gloster, to whom the order of 
 the siege is given, is altogether directed by an Irish- 
 man ; a very valiant gentleman, i'faith. 
 
 Flu. It is captain Macmorris, is it not? 
 
 Gow. I think, it be. 
 
 Flu. By Cheshu, he is an ass, as in the 'orld : I 
 will verify as much in his peard : he has no more 
 directions in the true disciplines of the wars, look 
 you, of the Roman disciplines, than is a puppy-dog. 
 
 Enter Macmorris and Jamy, at a distance. 
 
 Gow. Here 'a comes; and the Scots captain, 
 captain Jamy, with him. 
 
 Flu. Captain Jamy is a marvellous falorous gen- 
 tleman, that is certain ; and of great expedition, 
 and knowledge, in the ancient wars, upon my par- 
 ticular knowledge of his directions : by Cheshu, he 
 will maintain his argument as well as any military 
 man in the 'orld, in the disciplines of the pristine 
 wars of the Romans. 
 
 Jamy. I say, gud-day, captain Fluellen. 
 
 Flu. God-den to your worship, goot captain Jamy. 
 
 Goic. How now, captain Macmorris '/ have you 
 quit the mines? have the pioneers given o'er ? 
 
 (1 ) A mole to withstand the encroachment of the (4) Matter, subject. (5) Commander, 
 
 tide. (6) Earth. (7) Bravest. (8) Pocket affronts, 
 
 (1) Worn, wasted. (3) Fetched. * (9) Digged. (10) Blow.
 
 5ewu ///, IT. 
 
 SING HENRY V. 
 
 449 
 
 argument, look you, and friendly communication ; 
 partly, to satisfy my opinion, and partly, for the 
 satisfaction, look you, of my mind, as touchin? the 
 direction of the military discipline ; that is the point. 
 
 Jamy. It sail be very gud, gud feith, gud cap- 
 tains both : and I sail quit 1 you with gud leave, as 
 I miy pick occasion ; that sail I, marry. 
 
 Jlac. It is no time to discourse, so Chrishlsave 
 me, the day is hot, and the weather, and the wars, 
 and the king, and the dukes ; it is no time to dis- 
 course. The town is beseeched, and the trumpet 
 
 And the flesh'd soldier.-rough and hard of heart, 
 In liberty of bloody hand, shall range 
 With conscience wide as hell; mowing lifc 
 1 our fresh-air virgins, and your flowering i 
 
 Mac. By Chrish la, tish ill done : the work isn 
 give over, the trumpet sound the retreat. By un- 
 hand, I swear, and by my father's soul, the work 
 ish ill done ; it ish give over : I would have blowed 
 up the town, so Chrish save me, la, in an hour. 
 O, tish ill done, tish ill done ; *>y my hand, tish ill 
 done ! 
 
 Flu. Captain Macmorris, I peseech you now, will 
 you vouchsafe me, look you, a few disputations with 
 you? as partly touching or concerning the disci- 
 plines of the war, the Roman wars, in the way of Of' hot and forcing vioFa'tion"? 
 
 ering infanta. 
 
 What is it then to me, if impious war 
 Array'd in flames, like to the prince of fiends, 
 Do, with his smirch'd' complexion, all fell 1 feats 
 Enlink'd to waste and desolation ? 
 What is't to me, when you yourselves a/r cause 
 If your pure maidens fall into the hand 
 
 What rein can hold licentious wickedness 
 When down the hill he holds his fierce career? 
 We may as bootless 4 spend our vain command 
 L pon the enraged soldiers in their spoil, 
 As send precepts to the Leviathan 
 To come ashore. Therefore, you men of Harflem 
 Take pity of your town, and of your people, 
 Whiles yet my soldiers are in my command ; 
 Whiles yet the cool and temperate wind of grace 
 O'erblows the filthy and contagious clouds 
 Of deadly murder, spoil, and villany. 
 
 VUUI9C. A lit LUIV11 10 U^OCC*lrfU, allU 1 11C IIUIHUCI vl UO<1U1> lllUlUCi, SUO1I, UIIU VlililllY. 
 
 calls us to thfi breach ; and we talk, and, by Chrish, If not, why, in a moment, look to see 
 do nothing ; 'tis shame for us all : so God sa' mo, The blind and bloody soldier with foul 
 
 .vith foul hand 
 
 'tis shame to stand still ; it is shame, by my hand : . Defile the locks of your shrill-shrieking daughters ; 
 
 and there is throats to be cut, and works to be done ; 
 and there ish nothing done, so Chrish sa' me, la. 
 
 Jcnmi. By the mess, ere theise eyes of mine take 
 themselves to slumber, aile do gude service, or aile 
 liziie i'the grund for it ; ay, or go to death ; and 
 aile pay it as valorously as I may, that sail I surelv 
 do, that is the breft'and the long : Mary, I wad full 
 fain heard some question 'tween you tway. 
 
 Flu. Captain Macmorris, I think, look you, 
 under your correction, there is not many of your 
 
 nation 
 
 Returns us that his powers are not yet ready 
 Of my nation ? What ish my nation ? ish To raise so great a siege. Therefore, dread king, 
 
 a villain, and a bastard, and a knave, and a rascal? 
 What ish my nation .' Who talks of my nation ? 
 
 Flu. Look you, if you take the matter otherwise 
 than is meant, captain Macmorris, peradventure, I 
 shall think you do not use me with that affability as 
 in discretion you oucrht to use me,_ look you ; being 
 as goot a man as yourself, both in the disciplines 
 of wars, and in the derivation of my birth, and in 
 other particularities. 
 
 .Vac. I do not know you so good a man as my- 
 self: so Chrish save me, I will cut oft" your head. 
 
 Goic. Gentlemen both, you will mistake each 
 other. 
 
 Jamy. Au ! that's afoul fault. [A parity sounded. 
 
 Gow. The town sounds a parley. 
 
 Flu. Captain Macmorris, when there is more 
 better opportunity to be required, look you. I will 
 be so bold as to tell you, I know the disciplines of 
 war ; and there is an end. [Extunt. 
 
 SCENE HI. The .tame. Before the gales 
 Harfleur. The Governor and some citizens on 
 the walls: the English farces below. Enter 
 King Henry and his train. 
 K. Hen. How yet resolves the governor of the 
 
 town / 
 
 This is the latest parle we will admit : 
 Therefore, to our best mercy give yourselves ; 
 Or, like to men proud of destruction, 
 Defy us to our worst : for, as I am a soldier, 
 (A name, that, in my thoughts, becomes me best.) 
 If I begin the battery once again, 
 I will not leave the half-achieved Harfleur, 
 Till in her ashes she lie buried. 
 The gates of mercy shall be all shut up; 
 
 (I) Requite, answer. (2) Soiled. (S) Ciuel. 
 
 Your fathers taken by the silver beards, 
 And their most reverend heads dash'd to the walls; 
 Your naked infants spitted upon pikes ; 
 Whiles the mad mothers with their howls confus'd 
 Do break the clouds, as did the wives of Jewry 
 At Herod's bloody-hunting slaughtermen. 
 What say you ? will you yield, and this avoid ? 
 Or, guiltv in defence, be thus destroy'd ? 
 
 GOP. Our expectation hath this day an end : 
 The dauphin, whom of succour we entreated, 
 
 We yield our town, and lives, to thy soft mercy: 
 Enter our gates ; dispose of us, and ours ; 
 For we no longer are defensible. 
 
 K. Hen. Open your gates. Come, uncle Exeter, 
 Go you and enter Harfleur ; there remain, 
 Ana fortify it strongly 'gainst the French : 
 Use mercy to them all. For us, dear uncle, 
 The winter coming on, and sickness growing 
 Upon our soldiers, we'll retire to Calais. 
 To-night in Harfleur will we be your guest ; 
 To-morrow for the march are we eddrest b 
 
 [Flourish. The King, fyc. enter the town. 
 
 SCENE IV. Rouen. A room in the palace. 
 Enter Katharine and Alice. 
 
 Kath. Mice, tu as este en Angleterre, et tu paries 
 bien le language. 
 
 Alice. L'n peu, madame. 
 
 Kath. Je te prie, m'enseignez: Ufaut que fap- 
 prenne a parler. Comment appelles vcus la maw, 
 
 Alice. Le main 1 elle est appellle, de hand. 
 
 Kath. De hand. Et les doigts 1 
 
 Alice. Le s doigts 1 ma foy, je oublie let doigts ; 
 mais je me souviendray. Les doiett 1 je ptnse, 
 qu'ils sont appelle de fingres ; out/, de fingres. 
 
 Kath. Le main, de hand ; les doigts, de fingres. 
 Je pense, que je suis le ban escolier. fay garni 
 deux mots <F.lr\s;lois vistement. Comment appelles 
 vous les angles : 
 
 Alice. Les angles ? les appellons. de nails. 
 
 Kath. De nails. Escoutez ; dites moy, 
 parle bien ; de hand, de fingres, de nails. 
 
 Alice. C?est bien dit, madanu ; U eat fort 
 Jngtctt, 
 
 n je 
 
 (4) Without iiiccess. 
 5L 
 
 (5) Prepared.
 
 450 
 
 KING HENRY V. 
 
 Ad 111. 
 
 Kath. fiites moy en Jlnglois, le bras. 
 
 Mice. De arm, madame. 
 
 Kath. Et le coude. 
 
 Cilice. De eibow. 
 
 Kath. De elbow. Je 7i'n. faitz la repetition de 
 ious les mots, que vous m'avez appris des a present. 
 
 .Alice. // est trap difficile, madame, comme je 
 pense. 
 
 Kath. Excusez moy, Mice ; escoutez : De hand, 
 de fingrc, de nails, de arm, de bilbow. 
 
 Mice. De elbow, madame. 
 
 Kath. Seigneur Dieu ! je ni'eii ouWte; De el- 
 bow. Comment appelle; vous le col ? 
 
 Mice. De neck, madame. 
 
 Kath. De neck : Et le menton ? 
 
 Slice. De chin. 
 
 Kath. De sin. Le col, de neck : le menton, de 
 sin. 
 
 Alice. Ouy. Sauf vostre honneur; en verite 
 vous prononces les mots aussi droict que lesjiatifs 
 d? Jlngleterre. 
 
 Kath. Je ne doule. point d'apprendre par la 
 grace de Dieu; et en pen de temps. 
 
 Alice. N'avez vous pas deja oublie ce quejt vous 
 ay enseign'e'e 1 
 
 Kath. A/*o?i, je reciteray a vous promptement. 
 De hand, de fingre, de mails. 
 
 Mice. De nails, madame. 
 
 Kath. De nails, de arme, de ilbow. 
 
 Alice. Sauf^vo/ttre honneur, de elbow. 
 
 Kath. Mnsidisje ; de elbow, de neck, et de sin : 
 Comment appellez vous le pieds et la robe ? 
 
 Mice. De foot, madame ; et de con. 
 
 Kath. De foot, et de con? Seigneur Dieu! 
 ces sont mots de son mauvais, corruptible, grosse, 
 et impudique, et non pour les dames d'lionneur 
 d'user : Je ne voudrois prononcer ces mots devant 
 let seigneurs de France, pour tout le monde. II 
 faut de foot, et de con, neant-moins. Je reciterai 
 une outre fois ma leqon ensemble : De hand, de 
 fmgre, de nails, de arm, de elbow, de neck, dc sin, 
 de foot, de con. 
 
 Alice. Excellent, madame ! 
 
 Kath. (?est assez pour une fois ; attons nous a 
 disner. [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE V.The same. Another room in the 
 
 same. Enter the French King, the Dauphin, 
 
 Duke of Bourbon, the Constable of France, and 
 
 others. 
 
 Fr. King. 'Tis certain, he hath pass'd the river 
 Some. 
 
 Con. And if he be not fought withal, my lord, 
 Let us not live in France ; let us quit all, 
 And give our vineyards to a barbarous people. 
 
 Dau. O Dieu vivant ! shall a few sprays of us, 
 The emptying of our fathers' luxury, 1 
 Our scions, put in wild and savage stock, 
 Spirt up so suddenly into the clouds, 
 And overlook their grafters ? 
 
 Bour. Normans, but bastard Normans, Norman 
 
 bastards ! 
 
 Mart dr. ma vie ! if they march along 
 Unfought withal, but I will sell my dukedom, 
 To buy a slobbery and a dirty farm 
 In that nook-shotten 2 isle of Albion. 
 
 Con. Dieu de battailes ! where have they this 
 
 mettle ? 
 
 Is not their climate foggy, raw, and dull ? 
 On whom, as in despite, the sun looks pale, 
 Killing their fruit with frowns ? Can sodden water, 
 A drench for sur-rein'd 1 jades, their barley broth, 
 
 (1) Lust. (2) Projected. (3) Over-strained., 
 
 Decoct their Cold blood to such valiant heat ? 
 
 And shall our quick blood, spirited with wine, 
 
 Seem frosty ? O, for honour of our land, 
 
 Let us not hang like roping icicles 
 
 Upon our houses' thatch, whiles a more frosty 
 
 people 
 
 Sweat drops of gallant youth in our rich fields ; 
 Poor we may call them, in their native lords. 
 
 Daw. By faith and honour, 
 Our madams mock at us ; and plainly say, 
 Our mettle is bred out ; and they will give 
 Their bodies to the lust of English youth, 
 To new-store France with bastard warriors. 
 
 Bour. They bid us to the English dancing- 
 schools, 
 
 And teach lavoltas 4 high, and swift corantos ; 
 Saying, our grace is only in our heels, 
 And that we are most lofty runaways. 
 
 FA King. Where is Montjoy, the herald? speed 
 
 him hence ; 
 
 Let him greet England with our sharp defiance. 
 Up, princes ; and, with spirit of honour edg'd, 
 More sharper than your swords, hie to the field : 
 Charles De-la-bret, high constable of France ; 
 You dukes of Orleans, Bourbon, and of Berry, 
 Alencon, Brabant, Bar, and Burgundy ; 
 Jaques, Chatillon, Rambures, Vaudemont, 
 Beaumont, Grandpre, Roussi, and Fauconberg, 
 Foix, Lestrale, Bouciqualt, and Charolois ; 
 High dukes, great princes, barons, lords, and, 
 
 knights, 
 
 For your great seats, now quit you of great shames. 
 Bar Harry England, that sweeps through our land 
 With penons* painted in the blood of Harfleur : 
 Rush on his host, as doth the melted snow 
 Upon the valleys ; whose low vassal seat 
 The Alps doth spit and void his rheum upon : 
 Go down upon him, you have power enough, 
 And in a captive chariot, into Rouen 
 Bring him our prisoner. 
 
 Con. This becomes the great. 
 
 Sorry am I, his numbers are so few, 
 His soldiers sick, and famish'd in their march ; 
 For, I am sure, when he shall see our army, 
 He'll drop his heart into the sink of fear, 
 And, for achievement, offer us his ransom. 
 
 Fr. Kin*. Therefore, lord constable, haste on 
 
 Montjoy : 
 
 And let him say to England, that we send 
 To know what willing ransom he will give. 
 Prince dauphin, you shall stay with us in Rouen. 
 
 Dau. Not so, I do beseech your majesty. 
 
 Fr. King. Be patient, for you shall remain with 
 
 us. 
 
 Now, forth, lord constable, and princes all ; 
 And quickly bring us word of England's fall. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE VI. The English camp in Picardy. 
 Enter Gowcr and Fluellen. 
 
 Gow. How now, captain Fluellen ? come you 
 from the bridge ? 
 
 Flu. I assure you, there is very excellent ser- 
 vice committed at the pridge. 
 
 Gow. Is the duke of Exeter safe ? 
 
 Flu. The duke of Exeter is as magnanimous as 
 Agamemnon ; and a man that I love and honour 
 with my soul, and my heart, and my duty, and my 
 life, and my livings, and my uttermost powers : he 
 \|is not (Got be praised, and plessed !) any hurt in 
 the 'orld ; but keeps the pridge most valiantly, with 
 excellent discipline. There is an ensign there at 
 
 (4) Dances. <5) Pendants, small flags.
 
 &ene VI. 
 
 KING HENRY V. 
 
 451 
 
 the pridge.-I think in my very conscience, he islbravely, who was shot, who disgraced, what terms 
 as valiant as Mark Antony ; and he is a man of no the enemy stood on ; and this tSeycon perfSyta 
 estimation in the 'orld : but I did see him do eal- the phrase of wsr, which they trick up with new- 
 tuned oaths : And what a beard of the general's 
 cut, and a horrid suit of the camp, will do among 
 foaming bottles, and ale-washed wits, is wonderful 
 to be thought on ! But you must learn to know such 
 slanders of the age, or else you may be marvellous 
 mistook. 
 
 Flu. I tcJl you what, captain Gower; I do per- 
 ceive he is not the man that he would gladly make 
 show to the 'orld he is ; if I find a hole in his coat, 
 I will tell him my mind. [Z>riim heard.] Hark you, 
 the king is coming ; and I must speak with him 
 soldier, firm and sound of trom the pridge. 
 
 Enter King Henry, Gloster, and soldiers. 
 
 Flu. Got pless your majesty ! 
 
 K. Hen. HOST isow, Fluellen? earnest thou from 
 the bridge ? 
 
 Flu. Ay, so please your majesty. The duke of 
 Exeter bus very gallantly maintained the pridge ; 
 the French is gone off, look you ; and there is gal- 
 lant and most prave passages : Marry, th'alhversary 
 was have possession of the pridge ; but he is en- 
 forced to retire, and the duke of Exeter is master 
 of the pridge : I can tell your majesty, the duke 
 is a prave man. 
 
 K. Hen. What men have you lost, Fluellen ? 
 
 Flu. The perdition of th'athversary hath been 
 very great, very reasonable great : marry, for my 
 part, I think the duke hath lost never a man, but 
 one that is like to be executed for robbing a church, 
 one Bardolph, if your majesty know the man his 
 face is ail bubukles, and whelks, and knobs, and 
 flames of fire ; and his lips plcftvs at his nose, and 
 it is like a coal of (ire, sometimes plue, and some- 
 times red ; but his nose is executed, and his fire's out. 
 
 K. Hen. We would have all such offenders so 
 cut off: and we give express charge, that in our 
 marches through the country, there be nothing com- 
 pelled from the villages, nothing taken but piid for : 
 
 see him do gal- 
 lant service. 
 
 Goiff. What do VOH call him ? 
 Flu. He is called ancient Pistol. 
 Goic. I know him not. 
 
 Enter Pistol. 
 
 Flii. Do you nol know him? Here comes the man. 
 
 Pist. Captain, I thee beseech to do me favours : 
 The duke of Exeter doth love thee well. 
 
 Fin. Ay, I praise Got ; and I have merited some 
 love at his hands. 
 
 Pis!. Bardolph, 
 
 heart, 
 
 Of buxom valour, 1 hath, by cruel fate, 
 And giddy fortune's furious tickle wheel, 
 That goddess blind, 
 That stands upon the rolling restless stone, 
 
 Flu. By your patience, ancient Pistol. Fortune 
 is painted plind, with a muffler 2 before her eyes, to 
 signify to you that fortune is plind : And she is 
 painted also with a wheel ; to signify to you, 
 which is the moral of it, that she is turning, and 
 inconstant, and variations, and mutabilities : and 
 her foot, look you, is fixed upon a spherical stone, 
 which rolls, and rolls, and rolls ; In good truth, 
 the poet is make a most excellent description of 
 fortune : fortune, look you, is an excellent moral. 
 
 Pist. Fortune is Bardolph's foe, and frowns on 
 
 him ; 
 
 For he hath stolen a pix,* and hanged must a' be, 
 A damned death ! 
 
 Let gallows gape for dog, let man go free, 
 And let not hemp his wind-pipe suffocate : 
 But Exeter hath given the doom of death, 
 For pi.c of little price. 
 
 Therefore, go speak, the duke will hear thy voice ; 
 And let not Bardolph's vital thread be cut 
 With edge of penny cord, and vile reproach : 
 Sp. n ak, captain, for his life, and I will thee requite. 
 
 Flu. Ancient Pistol, 1 
 
 your meaning 
 
 Pist. Why then rejoice therefore. 
 
 Flu. Certainly, ancient, it is not a thing to re- 
 joice at: for if, look you, he were my brother, I 
 would desire the duke to use his gopt pleasure, and 
 put him to executions ; for disciplines ought to be 
 used. 
 
 I'ist. Die and be damned ; and figo* for thy 
 friendship ! 
 
 Flu. It is \vcll. 
 
 Pist. The fig of Spain ! [Exit Pistol. 
 
 Flu. Very good. 
 
 Gvtc. Why, this is an arrant counterfeit rascal ; 
 1 remember him now ; a bawd, a cut-purse. 
 
 Fit'. I'll assure j 
 the pridge, as you 
 
 L*llVt i "** l*V,l. ll~1IUlt. _ . ~ , ., J , 
 
 do partly understand ". ne ' " le * rench upbraided, or abused m dis- 
 dainful language ; For when lenity and cruelty 
 
 play for a kingdom, the gentler gamestu* is the 
 soonest winner. 
 
 Tucket sounds. Enter Monljoy. 
 
 Mont. You know me by my habit.' 
 
 K. Hen. WeH then, I know thee; Wi it shall 
 I know of thee ? 
 
 Mont. My master's mind. 
 
 K. Hen. Unfold it. 
 
 Mont. Thus says my king: Say thou to Harry 
 of England, Though we seemed dead, we did but 
 sleep: Advantage is a better soldier, than rash- 
 ness. Tell him, we could have rebuked him at 
 
 you, a' utter'd as prave 'ords at Harfleur; but that we thought not good to bruise 
 
 _.._ , p _, _ . _j shall see in a summer's day: an injury, till it were full ripe: now we speak 
 
 But if is very well ; what he has spoke to me, thatlupon our cue,' and our voice is imperial : England 
 is well, I warrant you, when time is serve. jshall repent his folly, sec his weakness, and 
 
 Goic. Why, 'tis ;"i gull, a fool, a rogue ; that nowjadmire our sufferance. Bid him, therefore, con- 
 and then goes to the" wars, to grace himself, at hisisider of his ransom ; which mu s t proportion the 
 return to London, under the form of a soldier. And [losses we have borne, the subjects we have lost, 
 such fellows are perfect in great commanders' the disgrace we have digested ; which in wcisht 
 names : and they will learn you by rote, where ser- to re-answer, his pettiness would bow under. For 
 vices were done ; at such and such a sconce, 5 at 'our losses, his exchequer is too poor ; for the effu- 
 such a breach, at such a convey : who came off sion of our blood, the muster of his kingdom too 
 
 faint a number ; and for our disgrace, his own per- 
 
 (1) Valour under good command. 
 
 (2) A fold of linen which partially covered the (4) An allusion to the custom in Spam and Italy, 
 f ace of giving poisoned figs. 
 
 (3) A small box in which were kept the conse- (5) An entrenchment hastily thrown up. 
 crated wafers. (6) t. f. By hw herald's coat. (7) In our turn,
 
 KING HENRY V. 
 
 Act III. 
 
 son, kneeling at our feet, but a weak and worth- 
 less satisfaction. To this add defiance: and tell 
 him, for conclusion, he hath betrayed his followers, 
 whose condemnation is pronounced. So far my 
 king and master ; so much my office. 
 
 K. Hen. What is thy name ? 1 know thy quality. 
 
 Mont. Montjoy. 
 
 K. Hen. Thou dost thy office fairly. Turn thee 
 
 back, 
 
 And tell thy king, I do not seek him now ; 
 But could be willing to march on to Calais, 
 Without impeachment : ' for, to say the sooth, 
 (Though 'tis no wisdom to confess so much 
 Unto an enemy of craft and vantage,) 
 My people are with sickness much enfeebled ; 
 My numbers lessen'd ; and those few I have, 
 Almost no better than so many French ; 
 Who when they were in health, I tell thee, herald, 
 I thought, upon one pair of English leg_s 
 Did march three Frenchmen. Vet, forgive me, God, 
 That I do brag thus ! this your air of France 
 Hath blown that vice in rue ; I must repent. 
 Go, therefore, tell thy master, here I am ; 
 My ransom, is this frail and worthless trunk ; 
 My armv, but a weak and sickly guard ; 
 Yet, Goa before, 2 tell him we will come on, 
 Though France himself, and such another neigh- 
 bour, 
 
 Stand in our way. There's for thy labour, Montjoy. 
 Go, bid thy master well advise Himself: 
 If we may pass, we will ; if we be hinder'd, 
 We shall your tawny ground with your red blood 
 Discolour : and so, Montjoy, fare you well. 
 The sum of all our answer is but this : 
 We would not seek a battle, as we arc ; 
 Nor, as we arc, we. say, we will not shun it ; 
 So tell your master. 
 
 Mont. I shall deliver so. Thanks to your high- 
 ness. [Exit Montjoy. 
 
 Glo. I hope they will not come upon us now. 
 
 K. Hen. We are in God's hand, brother, not in 
 
 theirs. 
 
 March to the bridge ; it now draws toward night : 
 Beyond the river we'll encamp ourselves ; 
 And on to-morrow bid them march away. [Ext. 
 
 SCENE VII. The French camp, near Atfin- 
 
 caurt. Enter the Constable of France, the. Lord 
 
 Rambures, the Duke of Orleans, Dauphin, and 
 
 others. 
 
 Con. Tut ! I have the best armour of the world. 
 'Would, it were day ! 
 
 Orl. You have an excellent armour ; but let my 
 norse have his due. 
 
 Con. It is the best horse of Europe. 
 
 Orl. Will it never be morning ? 
 
 Dau. My lord of Orleans, and my lord high 
 constable, you talk of horse ;ind armour, 
 
 Orl. You are as well provided of both, as any 
 prince in the world. 
 
 Dau. What a long night is this ! 1 will not 
 
 change my horse with any that treads but on four 
 pasterns. Ca, ha ! He bounds from the earth, as 
 if his entrails were hairs ; J If cheral rolant, the 
 Pegasus, qid a. les narines de fen ! When I bestride 
 him, I soar, I am a hawk : lie trots the air ; the 
 earth sings when he touches it ; the basest horn ol 
 his hoof is more musical than the pipe of Hermes. 
 
 Orl. He's of the colour of the nutm*g. 
 
 Dau. And of the heat of the ginger. It is a 
 peast for Perseus : he is pure air and fire ; and the 
 
 '!) Hinderance. 
 
 (2) Then used for God being my guide. 
 
 dull elements of earth and water never appear in 
 lim, hut only in patient stillness, while his rider 
 mounts him : he is, indeed, a horse ; and all other 
 ades you may call beasts. 
 
 Coil. Indeed, my lord, it is a most absolute and 
 excellent horse. 
 
 Dun. It is the prince of palfreys ; his neigh is 
 ike the bidding of a monarch, and his countenance 
 enforces homage. 
 
 Orl. No more, cousin. 
 
 Doit. Nay, the man hath no wit, that cannot, 
 Vom the rising of the lark to the lodging of the 
 amb, vary deserved praise on my palfrey : it is a 
 theme as fluent as the sea ; turn the sands into elo- 
 quent tongues, and my horse is argument for them 
 ill: 'tis a subject for a sovereign to reason on, and 
 or a sovereign's sovereign to ride on ; and for 
 he world (familiar to us, and unknown,) to lay 
 ipart their particular functions, and wonder at him. 
 I once writ a sonnet in his praise, and began thus : 
 Wonder of nature, 
 
 Or'. I have heard a sonnet begin so to one's 
 mistress. 
 
 Dau. Then did they imitate that which I com- 
 posed to my courser ; for my horse is iny mistress. 
 
 Orl. Your mistress bears well. 
 
 Dan. Me well ; which is the prescript praise 
 and perfection of a good and particular mistress. 
 
 Con. Ma foy ! the other day, methought, your 
 mislres&shrewdly shook your back. 
 
 Dtm. So, perhaps, did yours. 
 
 Con. Mine was not bridled. 
 
 I)it. O ! then, belike, she was old and gentle ; 
 and you rode, like a kerne 4 of Ireland, your French 
 hose, off, :ind in your strait, trossers. 6 
 
 Con. You have good judgment in horsemanship. 
 
 Dan. Be warned by me then : they that ride so, 
 and ride not warily, fall into foul bogs ; I had 
 rather have my horse to my mislress. 
 
 Con. I had as lief have my mistress a jade. 
 
 Dau. I tell thee, constable, my mistress wears 
 her own hair. 
 
 Con. I could make as true a boast as that, if I 
 had a sow to my mistress. 
 
 Dau. Le ckien e.it rttovrnf. a .ion jiropre vomixse- 
 
 eut, et la tfuie lavt-i tin bourbier : thou makest 
 use of any thing. 
 
 Con. Yet do I not use my horse for my mistress ; 
 or any such proverb, so little kin to the purpose. 
 
 Ram. My lord constable, the armour, that I 
 saw in your tent to-niglit, are those stars, or suns, 
 upon it? 
 
 Con. Stars, my lord. 
 
 Dau. Some of them will fall to-morrow, I hope. 
 
 Con. And yet my sky shall not want. 
 
 Dau. That may be, for you bear a many superflu- 
 ously; and 'twere more Honour, some were away. 
 
 Con. Even as yotir horse bears your praises ; 
 who would trot as well, were some of your brags 
 dismounted. 
 
 Dau. 'Would I were able to load him with his 
 desert! Will it never be dav? I will trot to-mor- 
 row a mile, and my way shall be paved with Eng- 
 lish faces. 
 
 Con. I will not say so, for fear I should be 
 laced out. of mv way : But I would it were morn- 
 ing, for I would fain be about the ears of the 
 Enarlish. 
 
 Ram. Who will sro to hazard with me for twenty 
 English prisoners? 
 
 (3) Alluding to the bounding of tennis-balls, 
 which were stuffed with hair. 
 
 (4) Soldier. (5) Trowsers,
 
 Scuit L 
 
 KING HENRY V. 
 
 453 
 
 Con. You must first go fourself to hazard, ere 
 
 you have them. 
 
 Dau. 'Tis midnight, I'll go arm myself. [Exit. 
 
 Orl. The dauphin longs for morning. 
 
 Ram. He longs to eat the English. 
 
 Con. I think, he will eat all he kills. 
 
 Orl. By the white hand of my lady, he's a gal- 
 lant prince. 
 
 Con. Swear by her foot, that she may tread out 
 the oath. 
 
 Orl. He is, simply, the most active gentleman 
 of France. 
 
 Con. Doing is activity : and he will still be doing. 
 
 Orl. He never did harm, that I heard of. 
 
 Con. Nor will do none to-morrow ; he will keep 
 
 only stomachs to eat, and none to fight. Now is ft 
 time to arm : Come, shall we about it? 
 Orl. It is now two o'clock : but. let me see, by 
 
 ten, 
 We shall have each a hundred Englishmen. [Ext. 
 
 ACT IV. 
 
 Enter Chorus. 
 
 CAor. Now entertain conjecture of a time, 
 \Vhen creeping murmur, and the poring dark, 
 Fills the wide vessel of the universe. 
 From camp to camp, through the foul womb of night, 
 
 TU- I _**! l-ii t i 
 
 that jjood name still. jThe ham of either" army stilly 3 sounds, 
 
 Orl. I know him to be valiant That the fix'd sentinels almost receive 
 
 Con. I was told that, by one that knows him | The secret whispers of each other's watch: 
 
 better than you. Fire answers fire ; and through thc-ir paly flames 
 
 On'. What's he ? 
 
 Con. Marry, he told me so himself; and he said, 
 he cared not who knew it. 
 
 Or/. He needs not, it is no hidden virtue in him. ; t 
 
 Con. By my faith, sir, but it is; never any body; With busy hammers closing nvets up, 
 saw it, but his lackey : 'tis a hooded valour ; and,JGive drca'dful note of preparation, 
 when it appears, it will bate. 1 
 
 Orl. Ill will never said well. 
 
 Con. I will cap that proverb with There 
 flattery in friendship. 
 
 Orl. And I will take up that with Give 
 devil his due. 
 
 Con. Well placed ; there stands jour friend for 
 
 Each battle sees the other's umber'd 4 face : 
 Steed threatens steed, in high and boastful neighs 
 Piercing the night's dull ear ; and from the tenvs, 
 The armourers, accomplishing the knights, 
 *" sy hammers closing rivets 
 adful note of preparation. 
 The country cocks do crow, the clocks do toll, 
 And the third hour of drowsy morning name. 
 Proud of their numbers, and secure in soul, 
 The confident and over-lusty* French 
 Do the low-rated English play at dice ; 
 And chide the cripple tardy-gaitcd night, 
 
 Who, like a foul and ugly witch, doth limp 
 
 the devil: have at the very eye oi* that proverb,! So tediously an ay. Tr?e poor co'ndemned English, 
 with A pox of the devil. Like sacriliccs, by their watchful fires 
 
 Orl. YOM are the better at proverbs, by how 
 
 much A fool's bolt is soon shot. 
 COM. You have shot over. 
 Orl. 'Tis not the first time you were overshot. 
 
 Sit patiently, and inly ruminate 
 
 The morning's danger ; and their gesture sad, 
 Investing lank-lean cheeks, and war-worn coats, 
 iPresenteth them unto the gazing moon 
 :So many horrid ghosts. (.), now, who will behold 
 |The royal captain of this ruin'd band, 
 
 . Mv lord high constable, the English lie Walking from watch to watch, from tent to tent, 
 tifieen hundred paces of your tent. Let him cry Praise and glory on his head ! 
 
 For forth he goes, and visits nil his host ; 
 Bids them good-morrow, with a modest smile ; 
 
 Enter a Messenger. 
 
 Mess. 
 
 within tifieen hundred paces of your tent 
 Co. Who hath measured the ground .' 
 Mess. The lord Grandpre. 
 
 \ valiant and most expert gentleman. 
 Would it were day ! Ah, poor Harryof England! 
 he longs not for the dawning, as we do. 
 
 Orl. What a wretched and peevish* fellow is 
 this king of England, to mope with his fat-brained 
 followers so far out of his knowledge! 
 
 Co;i. If the English had any apprehension, they 
 
 And calls them brothers, friends, and countrymen. 
 Upon his royal face there is no note. 
 How dread an army hath enrouncled him ; 
 Nor doth he dedicate one jot of colour 
 Unto the weary and all- watched night: 
 But freshly looks, and overbears attaint, 
 
 With cheerful semblance, and sweet majesty ; 
 
 That every wretch, pining and pale before, 
 
 crushed like rotten apples : You may as well say, 
 that's a valiant flea, that dare eat his breakfast on 
 the lip of a lion. 
 
 Con ' 
 the 
 
 leaving the.. 
 
 them great meals of beef, and iron, and steel, they 
 will eat like wolves, and fiu'ht like devils. 
 
 Orl. Ay, but these English are shrewdly out o 
 beef. 
 
 Con. Then we shall find to-morrow they have 
 
 (1) An equivoque in terms in falconry: he means, 
 his valour is hid from even- body but his lackey, 
 and when it appears it will fall on. 
 
 AOHI. i iiiu. jaiaiiu ui i^"S" l " "*> '^j " _ . . . = ... i c 
 
 creatures; their mastitl* areofunmatchablecouragc. Behold as may ^worthiness d -fine, 
 Orl. Foolish curs! that run winking into the | A little touch of H it: 
 
 mouth of a Russian bear, and have their heads And so our see 
 
 ished like rotten apples : You may as well say,- Where (O for pity !) we shall mucl 
 
 ' UoVf a flta ' Uiat darC tal ^ brCakfaSt " & SSSd> S rlolZ 
 -on. Just, just: and the men do sympathize withJThc name of Agincourt: \et,sitan 
 masiifVs.in robustious and rough coming on, Minding 6 true things, by i> hat their 
 vine their wits with their wives : and then give 
 
 I. The English camp at Agincaurt. 
 
 Enter King Henry, Bedford, and Gloster. 
 
 A'. Hen. Gloster, 'tis true, that we are in great 
 danger ; 
 
 (2) Foolish. (3) Gently, lowly. 
 
 (4) Discoloured by the gleam of the fires. 
 
 (5) Over-saucy. (6) Calling to remembrance.
 
 454 
 
 KING HENRY V. 
 
 Jlet IV 
 
 The greater therefore should our courage be. 
 Good-morrow, brother Bedford. God Almighty! 
 There is some soul of goodness in things evil, 
 Would men observing! y distil it out ; 
 For our bad neighbour makes us early stirrers, 
 Which is both healthful, and pood husbandry : 
 Besides, they arc our outward consciences, * 
 And preachers to us all ; admonishing', 
 That we should dress us fairly for our end. 
 Thus may we gather honey from the weed, 
 And make a moral of the devil himself. 
 
 Enter ErpSng'ham. 
 
 Good-morrow, old sir Thomas Erpingham : 
 A good soft pillow for that good white head 
 Were better than a churlish turf of France. 
 
 Erp. ( Not so, my liege; this lodging likes me 
 
 better, 
 Since I may say now lie 1 like a king. 
 
 K. Hen, 'Tis good for men to love their present 
 
 pains, 
 
 Upon example ; so the spirit is cased : 
 And, when ihe mind bquickcn'd, out of doubt, 
 The organs, though defunct and dead before, 
 Break up their drowsy grave, and newly move 
 With casted slouch 1 and fresh legerity. 2 
 Lend me thy cloak, sir Thomas. Brothers both, 
 Commend me to the princes in our camp ; 
 Do my irood-morrow to them ; and, anon, 
 Desire them ail to my pavilion. 
 
 Glo. \Ve shall, my liege. [Exe. Glo. and Bed. 
 
 Erp. Shall I attend your grace? 
 
 K. Hen. No, my good knight ; 
 
 Go with my brothers to my lords of England : 
 J and my bosom must debate a while, 
 And then I would no other company. 
 
 Erp, The Lord in heaven bless thc:e, noble Harry ! 
 [Exit Erpingham. 
 
 K. Hen. God-a-mercy, old heart ! thou spcakest 
 cheerfully. 
 
 Enter Pistol. 
 
 Pist. Qt va Id 1 
 
 K. Hen. A friend. 
 
 Pist, Discuss unto me ; art lliou officer ; 
 Or art f hou base, common, and popular ? 
 
 K. Hen. I am a gentleman of a company. 
 
 Pist. 'Frailest Ihou the puissant pike? 
 
 K. Hen, Even so : What are you? 
 
 Pist. As a;ood a gentleman as the emperor. 
 
 K, Hen, Then you are better than the kincr. 
 
 Pist. The kind's a bawcock, and a heart of gold, 
 A lad of life, an imp 3 of fame; 
 Of parents good, of list most valiant : 
 I kiss his dirty shoe, and from my heart-strings 
 I love the lovely bully. What's thy name ? 
 
 K. Hen. Harry le Roy. 
 
 Pist. Le Roy '. a Cornish name : art Ihou of 
 Cornish crew ? 
 
 K. Hen. No, I am a Welshman. 
 
 Pist. Knoivest thou Fluellen ? 
 
 K, Hen. Yes. 
 
 Pist. Tell him, I'll knock his leek about his pate, 
 Upon Saint Davy's day. 
 
 K. Hen. Do not you wear your dagger in your 
 cap that day, lest he knock that about yours. 
 
 Pist. Art thou his friend ? 
 
 K. Hen. And his kinsman too. 
 
 Pist. The figo for thee then ! 
 
 K. Hen. I thank you: God be with you ! 
 
 Pist. My name is Pistol called. [Exit. 
 
 (1) Slough is Uic skin which serpents annually 
 
 K. Hen. It sorts well* with your fierceness. 
 Enter Fiucllen and Gower, severally, 
 
 Goto. Captain Fluellen ! 
 
 Flu. So ! in the name of Cheshu Christ, speak 
 lower. It is the greatest admiration in the univer- 
 sal 'orld, when the true and auncient prcrogatifcs 
 and laws of the wars is not kept : if you would take 
 the pains but to examine the wars of Pompey the 
 Great, you shall find, I warrant you, that there is 
 no tidal c taddle, or pibble pabble, in Pompey's 
 camp ; I warrant you, you shall find the ceremonies 
 of the wars, and the cares of it, and the forms of 
 if, and the sobriety of it, and the modesty of it, to 
 be otherwise. 
 
 Gow. Why, the enemy is loud; you heard him 
 all night. 
 
 Flu. If the enemy is an ass, and a fool, and a 
 prating coxcomb, is it meet, think you, that, wo 
 should also, look you, be an ass, and a fool, and a 
 prating coxcomb ; in your own conscience now ? 
 
 Gow. I will speak lower. 
 
 Flu. I pray you, and beseech you, that you will. 
 [Exeunt Gower and Fluellen. 
 
 K. Hen. Though it appear a little out of fashion, 
 There is much care and valour in this Welshman. 
 
 Enter Bates, Court and Williams. 
 
 Court. Brother John Bates, is not that the morn- 
 ing which breaks yonder ? 
 
 Bates. I think it be: but we have no great cause 
 to desire the approach of day. 
 
 Will. VVe see yonder the beginning of the day, 
 but, I think, we shall never see the end of it. 
 Who goes there ? 
 
 K. Hen. A friend. 
 
 V/ill. Under what captain serve von ? 
 
 K. Hen. Under sir Thomas Erpinpham. 
 
 Will. A good old commander, and a most kind 
 gentleman : I pray you, what, thinks he of our estate ? 
 
 K. Hen. Even as men wrecked upon a sand, that 
 look to be washed off the next tide. 
 
 Bales. He hath not. told his thought to the king? 
 
 K. Hen, No ; nor it is not meet he should. For, 
 though I speak it to you, I think the king is but a 
 man, as I am : the violet smells to him, as it doth 
 to me ; the clement shows to him, as it doth to me ; 
 all his senses have but human conditions: 6 his cere- 
 monies laid by, in his nakedness he appears but a 
 man ; and though his affections are higher mounted 
 than ours, yet, when they stoop, they stoop with 
 the like wing ; therefore, when he sees reason of 
 fears, as we do, his fears, out of doubt, be of the 
 same relish as ours are : Yet, in reason, no man 
 should possess him with any appearance of fear, lest 
 he, by showing it, should dishearten his army. 
 
 Bates. He may show what outward courage he 
 will : but, I believe, as cold a night as 'tis, he could 
 wish himself in the Thames up to the neck ; and so 
 I would he were, and I by him, at all adventures, 
 so we were quit here. 
 
 K. Hen. By my troth, I will speak my conscience 
 of the king; I think, he would not wish himself any 
 where but where he is. 
 
 Bates. Then 'would he were here alone ; so 
 should he be sure to be ransomed, and a many poor 
 men's lives saved. 
 
 K. Hen. I dare say, you love him not ro ill, to 
 wish him here alone ;' howsoever you speak this, t<r 
 feel other men's minds : MeUunks, I could not die 
 
 (2> Lightness, nimbleness. 
 
 (3) Son, (4.) Agrees, (5) Q;ialUie.
 
 Scene/ 
 
 KING HENRY V. 
 
 455 
 
 any where so contented, as in the king's company ; K. Hen. I m3'self heard the king say, he would 
 
 his cause being just, and his quarrel honourable. 
 
 Will. That's more than we know. 
 
 Bates. Ay, or more than we should seek after ; 
 for we know enough, if we know we are the king's. 
 subjects ; if his cause be wrong, our obedience toj 
 the king wipes the crime of it out of us. 
 
 Will. But, if the cause be not good, the king 
 himself hath a heavy reckoning to make ; when all 
 those legs, and arms, and heads, chopped off in a 
 battle, shall join together at the latter day, 1 and 
 cry all We died at such a place ; some, swearing ; 
 some, crying for a surgeon ; some, upon their wives 
 left poor behind them ; some, upon the debts they 
 owe ; some, upon their children rawly- left. I am 
 afeard there are few die well, that die in battle ; 
 for how can they chariiably dispose of any thing, 
 when blood is their argument .' Now, if these men 
 dp not die well, it will be a black matter for the 
 king that led them to it ; whom to disobey, were 
 against all proportion of subjection. 
 
 about merchandise, do sinfully miscarry upon the 
 sea, the imputation of his wickedness, by your rule, 
 should be imposed upon his father that sent him : or 
 if a servant, under his master's command, transport- 
 ing a sum of money, be assailed by robbers, and die 
 in many irreconeiled iniquities, you may call the 
 business of the master the author of the servant's 
 damnation: But this is not so: the king is not 
 bound to answer the particular endings of his sol- 
 diers, the father of his son, nor the master of his 
 servant; for they purpose not their death, when 
 they purpose their sen-ices. Besides, there is no 
 king, be his cause never so spotless, if it come to 
 
 not be ransomed. 
 
 Will. Ay, he said so, to make us fight cheerfully : 
 but, when our throats are cut, he may be ransomed, 
 and we ne'er the wiser. 
 
 K. Hen. If I live to see it, I will never trust his 
 word aAer. 
 
 W ill. 'Mass, you'll pay 4 him then ! That's a pe- 
 rilous shot out of an elder gun, that a poor and pri- 
 vate displeasure can do against a monarch ! you may 
 as well go about to Ijirn the sun to ice, with fanning; 
 
 in his face with a peacock's feather. You'll never 
 trust his word after ! come, 'tis a foolish saying ! 
 
 K. Hen. Your reproof is something too round ; s 
 I should be angry with you, if the time were con- 
 venient. 
 
 Will. Let it be a p s unrrcl between us, if you live. 
 
 K. Htn. I embrace it. 
 
 WUl. How shall I know thee again ? 
 
 A'. He u. Give me any gage of thine, and I will 
 t: th 
 
 . . x . wear it in my bonnet : then, if ever tliou darest 
 
 A". Htn. So, if a son, that is by his father sent acknowledge It, I will make it my quarrel. 
 
 Wilt. Here's my glove ; nive me another of thine. 
 
 A". Hen. There. 
 
 Will. This will I also wear in my cap : if ever 
 thou come to me and say, after to-morrow, This is 
 my glcvt, by this hand, I will take thee a box on 
 the ear. 
 
 K. Htn. If ever I live to see it, I will challenge it. 
 
 Will. Thou darest as well be hanged. 
 
 A". Hen. Well, I will do it, though I take thee 
 in the king's company. 
 
 Will. Keep thy word : fare thee well. 
 
 Bates. Be friends, you English fools, be friends ; 
 we have French quarrels enough, if you could tell 
 
 the arbitrament of swords, can try it out with all | how to reckon, 
 unspotted soldiers. Some, peradventure, have pn! K. Hen. Indeed, the French may lay twenty 
 them the guilt of premeditated and contrived mur-jFrench crowns to one, they will beat us ; for ther 
 der; some, of beguiling virgins with the broken ! bear them on their shoulders : But it is no English 
 seals of perjury : some, making the wars their bul-ltreaspn, to cut French crowns ; and, to-morrow, 
 wark, that have 'before gored the gentk bosom of! the king himself will be a clipper. [Exe. Soldiers. 
 peace with pillage and robbery. Now, if these men [Upon the king ! let us our lives, onr souls, 
 have defeated the law, and out-run native punish- 1 Our debts, our careful wives, our children, and 
 ment, J though they can outstrip men, they have no ! Our sins, lay on the king ; we must bear all. 
 winirs to fly from God : war is his beadle, war is O hard condition ! twin-born with greatness, 
 his vengeahcs ; so that here men are punished, for Subjected to the breath of even* fool, 
 before-breach of the king's laws, in now the king's (Whose sense no more can feel but his own wringing! 
 quarrel: where they feared the death, they have] What infinite heart's ease must kings neglect, 
 borne life away; and where they would be safe, (That private men enjoy? 
 
 they perish : Then if they die unprovided, no more j And what have kings, that privates have not too, 
 is the kins: cruilty of their damnation, than he was i Save ceremony, save general ceremony? 
 before guilt v of those impieties for the which they [And what art thou, thbu idol ceremony? 
 are now visited. Every subject's duty is the king's ; : What kind of god art thou, that sufler'st more 
 but everv subject's soul is his own. Therefore 'Of mortal griefs, than do thy worshippejs ? 
 should everv soldier in the wars do as every sick i What are thy rents? what are thy comings-in ? 
 man in his" bed, wash every mote out of his con-|O ceremony, show me but thy worth ! 
 science : and dvhi? so, death is to him advantage ; : What is the soul of adoration ? s 
 or not dying, the time was blessedly lost, wherein (Art thou aught else but place, degree, and form, 
 such preparation was gained: and, in him that j Creating awe and fear in other men? 
 
 i sweet, 
 
 real greatness, 
 
 " Will. 'Tis certain, even 1 man that dies ill, the And bid thy ceremo'ny give thee cure ! . 
 ill is upon his own head, the king is not to answer , Think'st thou, the fiery fever will go out 
 f or it. i With titles blown from adulation ? 
 
 Bates. I do not desire he should answer for me ; i Will it ffive place to flexure and low bending ? 
 and vet I dettrminc to fight lustily for him. ! Canst thou, when thou command'st the beggar's 
 
 knee, 
 
 (1) The hst day, the day of judjment. JGommand the health of it? No, thou proud dream, 
 
 (-2) Suddenlv. ' 
 
 (3) i. e. Punishment in their native country. (5) Too rough. 
 
 (4) To pay here si-nilies to brin? to account, to (6) 'What is the real worth and intrinsic rajus 
 punish 1 of adoration?*
 
 456 
 
 KING HENRY V. 
 
 Jlct IV. 
 
 That play'st so subtly with a king's repose ; 
 
 I am a king, that find thee ; and I know, 
 
 'Tis not the balm, the sceptre, and the ball, 
 
 The sword, the mace, the crown imperial, 
 
 The inter-tissued robe of gold and pearl, 
 
 The farced' title running 'fore the king, 
 
 The throne he sits on, nor the tide of pomp 
 
 That beats upon the high shore of this %vorld, 
 
 No, not all these, thrice-gorgeous ceremony, 
 
 Not all these, laid in bed majestical, 
 
 Can sleep so soundly as the wretched slave ; 
 
 Who, with a body fill'd, and vacant mind, 
 
 Gets him to rest ; cramm'd with distressful bread ; 
 
 Never sees horrid night, the child of hell ; 
 
 But, like a lackey, from the rise to set. 
 
 Sweats in the eye of Phoebus, and all night 
 
 Sleeps in Elysium ; next day, after dawn, 
 
 Doth rise, and help Hyperion 5 to his horse ; 
 
 And follows so the ever-running year, 
 
 With profitable labour, to his grave: 
 
 And, but for ceremony, such a wretch, 
 
 Winding up days with toil, and nights with sleep, 
 
 Had the fore-hand and vantage of a king. 
 
 The slave, a member of the country's peace, 
 
 Enjoys it ; but in gross brain little wots, 
 
 What watch the king keeps to maintain the peace, 
 
 Whose hours the peasant best advantages. 
 
 Enter Erpingham. 
 Erp. My lord, your nobles, jealous of your ab- 
 sence, 
 Seek through your camp to find you. 
 
 K. Hen. Good old knight, 
 
 Collect them all together at my tent : 
 
 I'll be before thee. 
 
 Erp. I shall do't, my lord. [Exit. 
 
 K. Hen. O God of battles ! steel my soldiers' 
 
 hearts ! 
 
 Possess them not with fear ; take from them now 
 The sense of reckoning, if the opposed numbers 
 Pluck their hearts from them ! Not to-day, O Lord, 
 
 not to-day, think not updn the fault 
 My father made in compassing the crown ! 
 
 1 Richard's body have interred new ; 
 
 And on it have bestow'd more contrite tears, 
 Than from it issued forced drops of blood. 
 Five hundred poor I have in yearly pay, 
 Who twice a day their wither'd hands hold up 
 Towards heaven, to pardon blood ; and I have built 
 Two chantries, where the sad and solemn priests 
 Sing still for Richard's soul. More will I do : 
 Though all that I can do, is nothing worth ; 
 Since that my penitence comes after all, 
 Imploring pardon. 
 
 Enter Gloster. 
 Glo. My liege! 
 
 K. Hen. My brother Gloster's voice ? Ay ; 
 I know thy errand, I will go with thee : 
 The day, my friends, and all things, stay for me. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 S CEJfE II. The French camp. Enter Dauphin, 
 Orleans, Rambures, and others. 
 
 Orl. The sun doth gild our armour ; up, my lords. 
 Dau. Montez a cheval : My horse ! valet ! lac- 
 quay ! ha ! 
 Orl. O brave spirit ! 
 
 (1) Farced is stufled. The tumid puffy titles with 
 which a king's name is introduced, 
 f 2) The sun. 
 
 iS) An old encouraging exclamation. 
 (4) Do them out extinguish them. 
 
 Dau. Via ." les eaux et la lerre 
 
 Orl. Rien puis 1 /'air etlefeu 
 
 Dau. del ! cousin Orleans. 
 
 Enter Constable. 
 Now, my lord constable ! 
 
 Con. Hark, how our steeds for present service 
 
 neigh. 
 Dau. Mount them, and make incision in their 
 
 hides ; 
 
 That their hot blood may spin in English eyes, 
 And dout* them with superfluous courage : Ha ! 
 Ram. What, will you have them weep our 
 
 horses' blood ? 
 How shall we then behold their natural tears? 
 
 Enter a Messenger. 
 
 Mess. The English are embattled, jou French 
 
 peers. 
 Con. To horse, you gallant princes ! straight to 
 
 hprse ! 
 
 Do but behold yon poor and starved band, 
 And your fair show shall suck away their souls, 
 Leaving them but the shales and husks of men. 
 There is not work enough for all our hands ; 
 Scarce blood enough in all their sickly veins, 
 To give ^ach naked curtle-axe a stain, 
 That our French gallants shall to-day draw out, 
 And sheath for lack of sport : let us but blow on 
 
 them, 
 
 The vapour of our valour will p'erturn them. 
 'Tis positive 'gainst all exceptions, lords, 
 That our superfluous lackeys, and our peasants, 
 Who, in unnecessary action, swarm 
 About our squares of battle, were enough 
 To purge this field of such a hilding 5 foe ; 
 Though we, upon this mountain's basis by, 
 Took stand for idle speculation : 
 But that our honours must not. What's to say? 
 A very little little let us do, 
 And all is done. Then let the trumpets sound 
 The tucket-sonuance, 6 and the note to mount : 
 For our approach shall so much dare the field, 
 That England shall crouch down in fear, and yield. 
 
 Enttr GrandpreL 
 Grand. Why do you stay so long, my lords of 
 
 France ? 
 
 Yon island carrions, desperate of their bones, 
 lll-favour'dly become the morning field: 
 Their ragged curtains' poorly are let loose, 
 And our air shakes them passing scornfully. 
 Big Mars seems bankrupt in their beggar'd host, 
 And faintly through a rusty beaver peeps. 
 Their horsemen set like fixed candlesticks, 
 With torch-staves in their hand : and their poor jade? 
 Lob down their heads, dropping the hides and hips ; 
 The gum down-roping from their pale-dead eyes ; 
 And in their pale dull mouths the gimmal 8 bit 
 Lies foul with chew'd grass, still and motionless ; 
 And their executors, the knavish crows, 
 ?\y o'er them all, impatient for their hour. 
 Description cannot suit itself in words, 
 To demonstrate the life of such a battle 
 n life so lifeless as it shows itself. 
 Con. They have said their prayers, and they stay 
 
 for death. 
 
 Dau. Shall we go send them dinners, and fresh 
 suits, 
 
 (5) Mean, despicable. 
 
 (6) The name of an introductory flourish on the 
 rum pet. 
 
 (7) Colours. (8) Ring.
 
 Scene III. 
 
 KING HENRY V. 
 
 And give -their fasting horses prorender, 
 And after fight with them ? 
 
 Con. I stay but for my guard ; On, to the field : 
 I will the banner from a trumpet take, 
 And use it for my haste. Come, come away ! 
 The sun is high, and we outwear the day. [Ext. 
 
 SCENE III. The English camp. Enter the 
 English host; Gloster, Bedford, Exeter, Salis- 
 bury, and Westmoreland. 
 
 Glo. Where is the king ? 
 
 Bed. The king himselfis rode to view their battle. 
 
 West. Of fighting men they have lull threescore 
 thousand. 
 
 Exe, There's live to one : besides, they all arc 
 fresh. 
 
 Sal. God's arm strike with us ! 'tis a fearful odds. 
 God be wi' you, princes all ! 'I'll to my charge : 
 If we no more meet, till we meet in heaven, 
 Then, joyfully, my noble lord of Bedford, 
 My dear lord Gloster, and my good lord Exeter, 
 And my kind kinsman, warriors all, adieu ! 
 
 Bed. Farewell, good Salisbury ; and good luck 
 ETO with thee ! 
 
 Exe. Farewell, kind lord ; fight valiantly to-day : 
 And yet I do thee wrong, to mind thee of it, 
 For thou art fram'd of the firm truth of valour. 
 
 [Exit Salisbury. 
 
 Bed. He is as full of valour, as of kindness : 
 Princely in both. 
 
 West. O that we now had here 
 
 Enter King Henry. 
 
 But one ten thousand of those men in England, 
 That do no work to-day ! 
 
 K. Hen. ^ ' What's he that wishes so ? 
 
 My cousin Westmoreland ? No, my fair cousin : 
 If we are mark'd to die, we are enough 
 To do our country loss; and if to live, 
 The fewer men, the greater share of honour. 
 God's will ! I pray thee, wish not one man more. 
 B_y Jove, I am not covetous for gold ; 
 N or care I, who doth feed upon my cost ; 
 It yearns 1 me not, if men my garments wear ; 
 Such outivard things dwell not in my desires : 
 But, if it be a sin to covet honour, 
 I am the most offending soul alive. 
 No, 'faith, my coz, wish not a man from England : 
 God's peace ! I would not lose so great an honour, 
 As one man more, methinks, would share from me, 
 For the best hope I have. O, do not wish one more : 
 Rather proclaim it, Westmoreland, through my host, 
 
 Harry the king, Bedford, and Exeter, 
 
 Warwick and Talbot, Salisbury and Gloster, 
 
 Be in their flowing cups freshly remember'd : 
 
 This story shall the good man teach his son ; 
 
 And Crispin Crispian shall ne'er go by, 
 
 From this day to the ending of the world, 
 
 But we in it shall be remembered : 
 
 We few, we happy few, we band of brothers ; 
 
 For he, to-day that sheds his blood with me, 
 
 Shall be my brother ; be he ne'er so vile, 
 
 This day shall gentle his condition :* 
 
 And gentlemen in England, now a-bed, 
 
 Shall think themselves accurs'd, they were not here ; 
 
 And hold their manhoods cheap, while any speaks, 
 
 Tfcat fought with us upon St. Crispin's day. 
 
 Enter Salisbury. 
 Sal. My sovereign lord, bestow yourself with 
 
 speed: 
 
 The French are bravelv 3 in their battles set, 
 And will with all expedience* charge on us. 
 K. Hen. All things are ready, if pur minds be so. 
 West. Perish the man, whose mind is backward 
 
 now! 
 A'. Hen. Thou dost not wish more help from 
 
 England, cousin ? 
 West. God's will, my liege, 'would you and I 
 
 alone, 
 
 Without more help, might fight this battle out ! 
 K. Hen. Why, now thou hast unwish'd five 
 
 thousand men ; 
 
 Which likes me better, than to wish us one. 
 You know your places : God be with you all ! 
 
 Tucket. Enter Monljoy. 
 
 Mont. Once more I come to know of thee, king 
 
 Harry, 
 
 If for thy ransom thou wilt now compound, 
 Before thy most assured overthrow : 
 For, certainly, thou art so near the giilf, 
 Thou needs must be cnglutted. Besides, in mercy, 
 The constable desires thee thou wilt mind* 
 Thy followers of repentance ; that their souls 
 May make a peaceful and a sweet retire 
 From off these fields, where (wretches) their poor 
 
 bodies 
 Must lie and fester. 
 
 K . Hen . Who hath sent thee now ? 
 
 JHonf. The constable of France. 
 
 K. Hen. I pray thee, bear my former answer back j 
 Bid them achieve me, and then sell my bones. 
 Good God ! why should they mock poor fellows 
 
 That he, which hath no stomach to this fight, 
 
 Let him depart ; his passport shall be made, 
 
 And crowns for convoy put into .'.Js purse : 
 
 We would not die in that man's company, 
 
 That fears his fellowship to die with us. 
 
 This day is call'd the feast of Crispian : 
 
 He, that outlives this day, and comes safe home, 
 
 Will stand a tip-toe when this day is nam'd, 
 
 And rouse him at the name of Crispian. 
 
 He, that shall live this day, and see old age, 
 
 Will yearly on the vigil feast his friends, 
 
 And say to-morrow is Saint Crispian : 
 
 Then will he strip his sleeve, and show his scars, 
 
 And say, these wounds I had on Crispin's day. 
 
 Old men forget ; yet all shall be forgot, 
 
 But he'll remember, with advantagps, 
 
 What feats he did that day: Then shall our names, 'Killing in relapse of mortality 
 
 Familiar in their mouths as household words, |Let me speak proudly Tell the constable, 
 
 thus? 
 
 The man, that once did sell the lion's skin 
 While the beast liv'd, was kill'd with hunting him. 
 A many of our bodies shall, no doubt, 
 Find native graves ; upon the which, I trust, 
 Shall witness live in brass 6 of this day's work : 
 And those that leave their valiant bones in France, 
 Dying like men, though buried in your dunghills, 
 They shall be fam'd ; for there the sun shall greet 
 
 them, 
 
 i And draw their honours reeking up to heaven ; 
 (Leaving their earthly parts to choke your clime, 
 (The smell whereof shall breed a plague in France. 
 I Mark then a bounding valour in our English ; 
 That, being dead, like to the bullet's grazing, 
 Break out into a second course of mischief, 
 
 flj Grieves. 
 
 (2) i. e. This day shall advance h ; rn to the rank 
 of a gentleman. 
 
 (3) Gallantly. (4) Expedition. (5) Remind. 
 (6) i. e. In brazen plates anciently let into iamb- 
 
 stones. 
 
 M
 
 453 
 
 KING HENRY V. 
 
 Act IV 
 
 We are but warriors for the working-day :' 
 Our gayness, and pur gilt, 2 arc all besmirch'd 3 
 With rainy inarching m the painful field ; 
 There's not a piece of feather in our host, 
 (Good argument, I hope, we shall not fly,) 
 And time hath worn us into slovenry : 
 But. by the mass, our hearts are in 'the trim : 
 And my poor soldiers tell me yet ere night 
 They'll be in fresher robes ; or they will pluck 
 The gay new coats o'er the French soldiers' heads, 
 And turn them out of service. If they do this, 
 (As, if God please, they shall,) my ransom then 
 Will soon be levied. Herald, save thou thy labour ; 
 Come thou no more for ransom, gentle herald ; 
 They shall have none, I swear, biit these my joints : 
 Which if they have as I will leave 'em to them, 
 Shall yield them little, tell the constable. 
 
 Mont. I shall, king Harry. And so fare thee well ; 
 Thou never sha.lt hear herald any more. [Exit. 
 
 K. Hen. I fear, thou'ltoucc more come again for 
 ransom. 
 
 Enter the Duke o/York. 
 
 York. My lord, most humbly on my knee I beg 
 The leading of the vaward. 4 
 K. Hen. Take it, brave York. Now, soldiers, 
 
 inarch away : 
 \nd how thou plcasest, Gocl, dispose the day! 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE IV. The field of battle. Alarums : 
 Excursions. Enter French Soldier, Pistol, and 
 Boy. 
 
 Pist. Yield, ci:r. 
 
 Fr. Sol. Je pense, que rou.5 estis le genlUhomme 
 de bonne qualile. 
 
 Pist. Quality, call you me ? Construe me, art 
 thou a gentleman ? What is thy name? discuss. 
 
 Fr. Sol. seigneur Itieu ! 
 
 Pist. O, signieur Dew should be a gentleman : 
 Perpend mv words, O signieur Dew, and mark; 
 O signieur l>ew, thou diest on point of fox, 5 
 Except, O signieur, thou do give to me 
 Egregious ransom. 
 
 Fr. Sol. O, prennez misericorde ! aye: pitie de 
 may ! 
 
 Pist. Moy shall not serve, I will have forty moys ; 
 For I will fetch thy rim c out at thy throat, 
 In drops of crimson blood. 
 
 Fr. Sol. Est-il impossible tPeschftpper la force 
 de ton bras 1 
 
 Pist. Brass, cur ! 
 
 Thou damned and luxurious 7 mountain goat, 
 Offer'st me brass ? 
 
 Fr. Sol. O pardonnes may ! 
 
 Pist. Say'st thou me so? is that a ton of moys? 8 
 Come hither, boy ; Ask me this slave in French, 
 What is his name. 
 
 Boy. Escoutcz; Comment estes-voits appellt 1 
 
 Fr. Sol. Monsieur le Per. 
 
 Boy. He says, his name is master Fer. 
 
 Pist . Master Fer ! I'll fer him, and firk 9 him, and 
 ferret him : discuss the same in French unto him. 
 
 Boy. I do not know the French for fer, and fer- 
 ret and firk. 
 
 Pist. Bid him prepare, for I will cut his throat. 
 
 Fr. Sol. Qe dit-il, monsieur 1 
 
 Boy. II me commands de vous dire que vous 
 
 (1) We arc soldiers but coarsely dressed. 
 
 (2) Golden show, superficial gilding. 
 h) Soiled. (4) Vanguard. 
 
 (5) An old cant word for a sword, so called from 
 g famous sword-cutler of ttye name of Fox. 
 
 ifaites vous prest ; car ce soldat icy est dispose" tout 
 a cette heitre de couper vostre gorge. 
 
 Pist. Ouy, couper gorge, par ma foy, pesant, 
 Unless thou give me crowns, brave crowns ; 
 Or mangled shalt thou be by this my sword. 
 
 Fr. Sol. O, je vous supplie pour I'amour de 
 Dieu, me pardonner ! Je suis gentUlwmme de bonne 
 maison : gardez ma. vie, et je vcus donneray deux 
 cents escus. 
 
 Pist. What are his words ? 
 
 Boy. He prays you to save his life: he is a gen- 
 tleman of a good house ; and, for his ransom, he 
 will give you two hundred crowns. 
 
 Pisl. Tell him, rny fury shall abate, and I 
 The crowns will take. 
 
 Fr. Sol. Petit monsieur, qne dll-il ? 
 
 Boy. Encore qifil est contre son jurement, de 
 pardonner aucun prisonnier ; neantmoins, pour 
 lex escus que vous I'avez promts, tt est content de 
 vous dinner la liber t6, lej'ranc/iisement. 
 
 Fr. Sol. Sur mes genoux, je vous donne mille 
 remercie.mens : et je m'estime heureux que je suis 
 tombs entre les mains d'im chevalier, je pense, le 
 plus brave, valiant, ct ires distingue seigneur 
 d'Jlngleterre. 
 
 Pitt. Expound unto me, boy. 
 
 Boy. He gives you, upon his knees, a thousand 
 thanks : and he esteems himself happy that he hath 
 fallen ijito the hands of (as he thiiiks) the most 
 brave, valorous, and thrice- worthy signieur of 
 Endand. 
 
 Pist. As I suck blood, I will some mercy show. 
 Follow me, cur. [Exit Pistol. 
 
 Boy. Suivez vous le grand capitaine. 
 
 [Exit French Soldier. 
 
 I did never know so full a voiee issue from so empty 
 a heart : but the saying is true, The empty vessel 
 makes the greatest sound. Bardolph, and Nym, 
 had ten times more valour than this roaring devil 
 i'the old play, that every one may pare his nails 
 with a wooden dagger ; and they are both han-jred ; 
 and so would this be, if he durst steal any thing 
 adventurously. I must slay with the lackeys, with 
 the baggage of our camp: the French might have 
 a good prey of us, if he knew of it ; for there is none 
 to guard it, but boys. [Exit. 
 
 SCENE V.Jlnothtr part of the field of battle, 
 rflarums. Enter Dauphin, Orleans, Bourbon, 
 Constable, Rambures, and others. 
 
 Con. Odiable! 
 
 Orl. seigneur! le jour est perdu, tout est 
 perdu ! 
 
 Dau. Mart de ma vie ! all is confounded, all ! 
 Reproach and everlasting shanfe 
 Sits mocking in our plumes. meschante for- 
 tune ! 
 Do not run away. [*2 short alarum. 
 
 Con. , Why, all our ranks are broke. 
 
 Dau. O perdurable 10 shame! lel'sstab ourselves. 
 Be these the wretches that we play'd at dice for ? 
 
 Orl. Is this the king we sent to for his ransom ? 
 
 Bour. Shame, and eternal shame, nothing but 
 
 shame ! 
 
 Let us die instant : Once more back again ; 
 And he that will not follow Bourbon now, 
 Let him go hence, and, with his cap in hand, 
 Like a base pander, hoW the chamber-door, 
 Whilst by a slave, no gentler than my dog, 11 
 
 (G) The diaphragm. (7) Lascivious. 
 
 (S) Pieces of money. (9) Chastise. 
 
 (10) Lasting-. 
 
 (11) i. e. Who has no more gentility,
 
 Scene Vl t VII. KING HENRY V. 
 
 His fairest daughter is contaminate. 
 
 Con. Disorder, that hath spoil'd us, friend us now ! 
 Let us, in heaps, go offer up our lives 
 Unto these English, or else die with fame. 
 
 Orl. We are enough, yet living in the field, 
 To smother up the English in our throngs, 
 If any order might be thought upon. 
 
 jBoiir. The devil take order now! I'll to the 
 
 throng ; 
 Let life be short ; else, shame will be too long. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 SCE.VE Vl..1notker part of the field. Ala- 
 rums. Enter King Henry mid forces ; Exeter, 
 and others. 
 
 K. Hen. Well have we done, thrice-valiant 
 countrymen : 
 
 But all's not done, yet keep the French the field. 
 Exe. The duke of York commends him to your 
 
 45i) 
 
 K. lien. Lives he, good uncle ? thrice, within 
 
 this hour, 
 
 I saw him down ; thrice up acrain, and fighting ; 
 From helmet to the spur, all blood he Was. 
 
 Exe. In which array (brave soldier) doth he lie, 
 Larding the plain : and by his bloody side 
 (Yoke-fellow to his honour-owing wounds,) 
 The noble earl of Suffolk also lies. 
 Suffolk first died ; and York, all haggled over, 
 Comes to him, where in core he lay insteep'd, 
 And takes him by the beard ; kisses the gashes, 
 That bloodily did yawn upon his face ; 
 And cries aloud, 'Tarry, dear cousin Suffolk ! 
 My soul shall thine keep company In heavin : 
 Tarry, street soul, for mine, then fly a-breast; 
 .It, m this glorious and loeU-foughten field, 
 We kept together in our chivalry ! 
 Upon these words 1 came, and cheer'd him im : 
 He smil'd me in the face, raught 1 me his hand, 
 And, with a feeble gripe, says, Dear my lord, 
 Commend my service to my sovereign. 
 So did he turn, and over Suffolk's neck 
 He threw his wounded arm, and kiss'd his lips ; 
 And so, espous'd to death, with blood he seal'd 
 A testament of noble-ending love. 
 The pretty and sweet manner of it forc'd 
 Those waters from me, which I would have stopp'd ; 
 But I had not so much of man in me, 
 But all my mother came into mine eyes, 
 And gave me up to tears. 
 
 K. Hen. I blame you not ; 
 
 For, hearing this, I must perforce compound 
 With mistim eyes, or they will issue too. [JHancm. 
 But hark ! what new alarum is this same ? 
 The French have reinforc'd their scatter'd men : 
 
 Then every soldier kill his prisoners ; 
 Give the word through. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 Ala- 
 
 SCE.VE Vll.^lnolher vart of Hie field, 
 rums. Enter Fluellen and Gower. 
 
 Flu. Kill the povs and the luggage ! 'tis ex- 
 pressly against the law of arms : 'tis as arrant a 
 
 and the cowardly rascals, that ran from the battle, 
 have done this slaughter : besides, they have burned 
 and carried away 'all that was in the king's tent ; 
 wherefore the king, most worthily, hath caused 
 every soldier to cut" his prisoner's throat. O, 'tis a 
 gillant kin<r ! 
 flu. Ay, he was porn at Monmouth, captain 
 
 (?) Scour, 
 
 Gower : What Call you the town's name where 
 Alexander the pig was born ? 
 
 Gow. Alexander the great. 
 
 Flu. Why, I pray you, is not pig, great ? The 
 pig, or the great, or the mighty, or the Tiuge, or the 
 magnanimous, are all one reckoning, save the 
 phrase is a little variations. 
 
 Gme. I think, Alexander the great was born in 
 Macedon ; his father was called Philip of Mace- 
 don, as I take it. 
 
 Flu. I think, it is in Macedon, where Alexander 
 is porn. I tell you, captain, If you look in the 
 maps of the 'orld, I warrant, you shall find, in the 
 :ornparisons between Macedon and Monmouth, 
 that the situations, look you, is both alike. There 
 is a river in Macedon ; and there is also moreover 
 a river at Monmouth ; it is called Wye, nt Mon- 
 mouth: but it is out ofmy prains, what is the name 
 of the other river ; but 'tis all one, 'tis ?o like as 
 my fingers is to my fingers, and there is salmons in 
 both. If you mark Alexander's life well, Harry 
 of Monmouth's life is come after it indifferent well; 
 for there is figures in all things. Alexander, (God 
 knows, and you know,) in his raprcs, and his furies, 
 anil liis wraths, and his cholers, and his moods, and 
 his displeasures, and his indignations, and also being 
 a little intoxicates in his prains, did, in his ales and 
 his angers, look you, kill his post friend, Clytus. 
 
 r. Our king is not like him in that : he never 
 killed any of his friends. 
 
 Flu. It is not well none, mark you now, to take 
 tales out of my mouth, ere it is made an end and 
 finished. I speak but in the figures and compari- 
 sons of it : As Alexander is kill his friend Clytus, 
 being in his ales and his cups ; so also Harry Mon- 
 mouth, in right wits and his coot judgments, is 
 turn a way the fat knight with the great pelly doub- 
 let : he was full of jests, and gipes, and knaveries, 
 and mocks ; I am forget his name. 
 
 GOIF. Sir John Falstaff. 
 
 Flu. That is he: I can tell you, there is goot 
 men porn at Monmouth. 
 
 GCVJ. Here comes his majesty. 
 
 Alarum. Enter King Henry, with a part of the 
 English forces ; Warwick, Gloster, Exeter, and 
 others. 
 
 K. Hen. I was not angry since I came to France 
 Until this instant. Take a trumpet, herald ; 
 iRide thou unto the horsemen on yon hill ; 
 {If they will fight with us, bid them come down, 
 Or void the field ; they do offend our sight : 
 If they'll do neither, we will come to them, 
 And make them skirr a away, as swift as stones 
 Enforced from the old Assyrian slings : 
 Besides, we'll cut the throats of those we have ; 
 And not a man of them, that we shall take, 
 Shall taste our mercy: Go, and tell them so. 
 
 En/erMontjoy. 
 
 Exe. Here comes the herald of the French, my 
 liege. 
 
 Glo. His eyes are humbler than they us'd to IIP. 
 
 K. Hen. How now, what means this, herald ? 
 
 know'st thou not, 
 
 That I have fin'd these bones of mine for ransom 7 
 Com'st thou again for ransom ? 
 
 JVfonf. No, great king : 
 
 I come to thee for charitable license, 
 That we may wander o'er this bloody field, 
 To book our dead, and then to bury them ; 
 To sort our nobles from our common men ; 
 For many of our princes (wo the while !) 
 tig 4rpw n 'cl an d soak'd in mercenary blgo^Jj
 
 460 
 
 KING HENRY V. 
 
 Act IV. 
 
 (So do our vulgar drench their peasant limbs 
 In blood of princes ;) and their wounded steeds 
 Fret fetlock deep in s;ore, and, with wild rage, 
 Yerk out their armed heels at their dead masters, 
 Killing them twice. 0, give us leave, great king, 
 To view the field in safety, and dispose 
 Of their dead bodies. 
 
 K. Hen. I tell thee trulj, herald, 
 
 I know not, if the day he ours, or no ; 
 For yet a many of your horsemen peer, 
 And gallop o'er the field. 
 
 Jlont. The day is yours. 
 
 K. Hen. Praised be God, and not our strength, 
 
 for it ! 
 What is this castle call'd, that stands hard by ? 
 
 Mont. They call it Aginnourt. 
 
 A'. Hen. Then call we this the field of Agin- 
 
 court, 
 Fought on the day of Crispin Crispianus. 
 
 Fiit. Your grandfather of famous memory, an't 
 please your majesty, and yuar great-uncle Eldward 
 the plack prince of Wales, as I have read in the 
 chronicles, fought a most prave pattle here in 
 France. 
 
 K. Hen. Tiiry did, Fluellen. 
 
 Flu. Your majesty savs very true: if your ma- 
 jesties is remembered of it, the Welshman did gpot 
 service in a garden where leeki did grow, wearing 1 
 leeks in their Monmoulh caps ; which, your majesty 
 knows, to this hour is an honourable pudge of the 
 service ; and, I do believe, your majesty takes no 
 scorn to we:ir the leek upon Saint Tavy's day. - 
 
 K. Hen. I wear it for a memorable honour : 
 For I am Welsh, you know, good countryman. 
 
 tation is as arrant a villain, and a Jack sauce, 3 as 
 ever his plack shoe trod upon Got's ground and his 
 earth, in my conscience, la. 
 
 K. Hen. Then keep thy vow, sirrah, when thou 
 meet'st the fellow. 
 
 Will. So I will, my liege, as I live. 
 
 K. Hen. Who servest thou under ? 
 
 Will. Under captain Gower, my liege. 
 
 flu. Gower is a goot captain ; and is gootknow- 
 ledaje and literature in the wars. 
 
 A'. Hen. Call him hither to me. soldier. 
 
 Will. I will, my liege. [Exit. 
 
 K. Hen. Here, Fluellen; wear thou this favour 
 for me, and stick it in thy cap : When Alencon and 
 myself were down together, I plucked this glove 
 from his helm: if any man challenge this, he is a 
 friend to Alencon and an enemy lo our person ; if 
 thou encounter any such, apprehend him, an thou 
 dost love me. 
 
 Flit. Your grace does me as great honours, as 
 nan be desired in the heart* of his subjects : [ would 
 fain sec the man, that has but two legs, that shall 
 iind himself aggriefed at this glove, that is all ; but 
 I would fain see it once ; an please Got of his grace, 
 that 1 might see it. 
 
 K. Hen. Knowest thou Gower ? 
 
 Flu. He is my dear friend, an please you. 
 
 A'. Hen. Pray thce, go seek him, and bring him 
 lo my tent. 
 
 Flu. I will fetch him. [Exit. 
 
 K. Hen. My lord of Warwick, and my brother 
 
 Gloster, 
 
 Follow Fluellen closely at the heels : 
 The glove, which I have given him for a favour, 
 
 Flu. All the water in Wye cannot, wash your I May, haplv, purchase him a box o' the ear ; 
 najesty's Welsh plood out of your pody, I can tell It is the soldier's ; I, by bargain, should 
 routhat: Got pless it and preserve it, as long as Wear it myself. Follow, good cousin Warwick : 
 
 A __l 1_ _ 1 l_* : 1 A I T I. Jl * Jl I J i ! 1 / 1 
 
 maje 
 you t 
 it pleases his grace, and his majesty too ! 
 
 K. Hen. Thanks, good my countryman. 
 
 Flu. By Cheshu, I am your majesty's country- 
 man, I care not who know it; I will confess it to 
 all the 'orld : I need not to be ashamed of vour 
 
 majesty, praised be Got, so lony 
 is an honest man. 
 
 as your majesty 
 
 K. Hen. God keep me so ! Our heralds go with 
 
 him ; 
 
 Brim me just notice of the numbers dead 
 On both our parts. Call yonder fdlow hither. 
 [Points to Williams. Exe. Mont, and others. 
 
 Ece. Soldier, vou must come to the kin?. 
 
 K. Hen. Soldier, why wear'st thou that glove 
 in thy cap? 
 
 Will. An't please your majesty, 'tis the gage of 
 one that I should tight withal, if he be aiive. 
 
 K. Hen. An Englishman? 
 
 Will. An't please your majestv, a rascal, that 
 swagsrercd with me last night: who, if 'a live, and 
 ever dare to challenge this glove, I have sworn to 
 take him a box o'the e:ir : or, if I can see my 
 glove in his cap (which he. swore, as he was a sol- 
 dier, he would wear, if alive,) I will strike it out 
 soundlv. 
 
 K. Hen. What think you, captain Fluellen ? is 
 it fit this soldier keep his oath ? 
 
 Fin. He is .1 craven 1 and a villain else, an't 
 please vo'ir may'sty, in my conscience. 
 
 K. Hen. It may be, his enemy is a gentleman of 
 great sort, 2 quite from the answer of his degree. 
 
 Flu. Though ho. be as goot a gentleman as the 
 tevil is, as Lucifer and Belzebub himself, it is ne- 
 cessary, look your grace, that he keep his vow and 
 his oath : If he be perjured, see you now, his repu- 
 
 (1) Coward. 
 
 (2) High rank. 
 
 If that the soldier strike him (as, I judge 
 
 By his blunt bearinir, he will keep his word,) 
 
 Some sudden mischief mojt arise of it ; 
 
 For I" do know Fluellen valiant, 
 
 And, tcuch'd with choler, hot as gunpowder, 
 
 And quickly will return an injury : 
 
 Follow, and see there be no harm between them. 
 
 Go you with me, uncle of Exeter. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE VIIL Before King Henry's Parilion. 
 Enter Gower and Williams. 
 
 Will. I warrant, it is to knight you, captain. 
 Enter Fluellen. 
 
 Flu. Got's will and his pleasure, captain, I pe- 
 seech you now, come apace to the king : there is 
 more goot toward you, pcrad venture, than is in your 
 knowledge to dream of. 
 
 Will. Sir, know you this glove ? 
 
 Flu. Know the glove ? I know, the glove is a 
 glow. 
 
 Will. I know this ; and thus I challenge it. 
 
 [Strikes him. 
 
 Flu. 'Sbuld, an arrant traitor, as any's in the 
 universal 'orld, or in France, or in England. 
 
 Coin. How now, sir? vou villain ! 
 
 Will. Do you think I'll be forsworn ? 
 
 Flu. Stand away, captain Gower ; I will give 
 lreion his payment into plows, I warrant you. 
 
 Will. I am no traitor. 
 
 Fin. That's a lie in thy throat. I charge you in 
 lis majesty's name, apprehend him ; he's a friend 
 of the duke Alencon's. 
 
 Enter Warwick and Gloster. 
 War. How now, how now ! what's the matter? 
 
 f3) For saucy Jack.
 
 Scnte VllL 
 
 KING HENRY V. 
 
 4(Jt 
 
 Flu. My lord of Warwick, here is (praised be Got 'One hundred twenty-six: added to these, 
 for it!) a most contagious treason come to light, Of knights, esquires, and gallant gentlemen, 
 look you, as you shall desire in a summer's day. Eight thousand and four hundred : of the which, 
 Here is his majesty. I Five hundred were but yesterday dubb'd knight* : 
 
 I So that, in these ten thousand they have lost, 
 Enter Kin;* Henry and Exeter. IThere are but sixteen hundred mercenaries ; 
 
 The rest arc princes, barons, . lords, knights, 
 
 K. Hen. How now ! what's the matter ? 
 
 Flu. My liege, here is a villain and a traitor, that, 
 took your grace, hr;s struck the glove which your 
 majesty is take out of the helmet of Alencon. 
 
 Will. My lieire, this was my glove ; here is the 
 fellow of it : and lie, that I gave it to in change, 
 promised to wear it in his cap ; I promised to 
 
 strike him, if he did : I met this man with my glove 
 in his cap, a;sd I have been as srood as mv word. 
 Flu. \ our majesty hear now (saving your ma> 
 
 'squires, 
 
 And gentlemen of blood and quality. 
 The names of those their nobles that lie dead, 
 Charles De-la-bret, high constable of France ; 
 Jacques of Chatillon, admiral of France ; 
 The master of the cross-bows, lord Kambures ; 
 Great-master of France, the brave sir Guischard 
 
 Dauphin ; 
 
 John, duke of Aleneon ; Antony, duke of Brabant, 
 ._, _ .- ! The brother to the duke of Burgundy; 
 
 estv's manhood,) what an arrant, rascally, be^- i And Edward, duke of Bar : of lusty earls, 
 parly, lousy knave it is : I hope, your majesty is I Grandpr6, and Iloussi, Fauconberg, and Foix, 
 pear me testimony, and witness, and avouchments, | Beaumont, and Miirle, Yaudcmont, and Lestrale. 
 
 that this is the glove of Aleneon, that your majes-iHere was a royal fellowship of death ! 
 
 ly is give me, in your conscience now. i Where is the number of our English dead? 
 
 K. Hen. Give me thy glove, soldier: Look, here! [Herald presents another paper. 
 
 is the fellow of it. 'Twas I, indeed, thou promised'st Edward the duke of York, the earl ofSuffolk, 
 to strike ; and thou hast given me most bitter terms. ! Sir Richard Ketley, Davy Gam, esquire : 
 
 Flu. An please your majesty, let his neck answer i None else of name ; and, of all other men, 
 for it, if there is any martial law in the 'orld. , But five and twenty. O God, thy arm was here, 
 
 K. Hen. How canst thou make me satisfaction ? And not to us. but to thy arm alone, 
 
 Will. All offences, my liege, come from the heart : j Ascribe we all. When, without stratagem, 
 never came any from mine, that might offend your " 
 majesty. 
 
 A", /ttfc. It was oursclf thou didst abuse. 
 
 Will. Your majesty came not like yourself: you 
 appeared to me but as a common man ; witness thc | 
 night, your garments, your lowliness ; and what] 
 your bufanew suffered under that shape, I beseech 
 vou, take it for your own fault, and not mir.e : for 
 had you been as I took you for, I made no offence ; 
 therefore, I beseech your highness, pardon me. 
 
 K. Hen. Here, uncle Exi-ter, fill this glove with 
 
 crown-. 
 
 And give it to this fellow. Keep it, fellow ; 
 And wear it for an honour in thy cap, . 
 
 Till I do challenge it. Give him the crowns : 
 And, captain, you must needs be frieiiiis with him. 
 
 Fin. By this day and this lisht, the fellow has 
 mettle enough in his pelly : Hold, there is twelve 
 pence for you, and I pray you to serve Got, and keep 
 
 you out of prawls, and prabbles, and quarrels, and Where ne'er from France arriv'd more happy men 
 
 dissensions, and, I warrant you, it is the petter for 
 you. 
 
 Will. I will none of your money. 
 
 Flu. It is with a goot will ; I can tell you, it will 
 serve you to mend your shoes : Come, wherefore 
 should you be so pashful ? your shoes is not so 
 goot : 'tis a good silling, I warrant you, or I will 
 change it. 
 
 )i/r on English Herald. 
 K. Hen. Now, herald ; nre the dead number'd? 
 
 But in plain shock, and even play of battle, 
 Was ever known fo trreat and little loss, 
 On one part and on the other? Take it, God, 
 For it is onlv thine ! 
 
 Exe. 'Tis wonderful ! 
 
 K. Hen. Come, go we in procession to the village- 
 And be it death proclaimed through our host, 
 To boast of this, or take that praise from God, 
 Which is his onlv. 
 
 Flu. Is it not lawful, an please your majesty, to 
 tell how many is killed? 
 
 K. Htn. Yes, captain; but with this acknow- 
 ledgment, 
 That God fought for us. 
 
 Flu. Yes, my conscience, he did us great goot. 
 
 A'. Hen. Do' we all holy rites ; 
 Let there be sung A'on nobis, and Te Dettm. 
 The dead with charity enclos'd in clav, 
 We'll then to Calais ; and to England then ; 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 ACT V. 
 
 Enter Chorus. 
 Cho. Vouchsafe to those that have not read the 
 
 story, 
 
 That I may prompt them : and of such as have, 
 I humbly pray them to admit the excuse 
 Of time, of numbers, and due course of things, 
 Which cannot in their huge and proper life 
 
 Her. Here is the number of the slaughter'd | }>e here presented. Now we bear the king 
 
 French. [Delivers a paper. ; Toward Culais : grant him there ; there seen, 
 
 K. Hen. What prisoners of good sort are taken. II(-ave him away upon your winged thoughts, 
 
 uncle ? 
 
 Exe. Charles, duke of Orleans, nephew to the king; 
 John, duke of Bourbon, and lord Boticiqualt: 
 Of other lords, and barons, knights, and 'squires, 
 Full fifteen hundred, besides common men. 
 K. Hen. This note doth tell me of ten thousand 
 
 French, 
 That in the field lie slain : of princes, in this 
 
 number. 
 And nobles bearing banners, there lie dead 
 
 Athwart the sea : Behold, the English beach 
 Pales in the flood with men, with wives, and bovs. 
 Whose shouts and claps out-voice the deep-mouth'd 
 
 sea, 
 
 Which, like a mighty whiffler 1 'fore the king, 
 Seems to prepare his way : so let him land ; 
 And, solemnly, see him set on to London. 
 So swift a pace hath thought, that even now 
 
 (1) An officer who walks first in processions.
 
 4812 
 
 KING HENRY V. 
 
 Ictt. 
 
 You may imagine him upon Blackheath it- 
 Where that his lords desire him to have borne 1 
 His bruised helmet, and his bended sword, 
 Before him, through the city : he forbids it, 
 Being free from vainness and self-glorious pride ; 
 Giving full trophy, signal, and ostent, 
 Quite from himself, to God.* But now behold, 
 In the quick forge and working-house of thought, 
 How London doth pour out her citizens ! 
 The mayor, and all his brethren, in best sort, 
 Like to the senators of the antique Rome, 
 With the plebeians swarming at their he-els, 
 Go forth, and fetch their conquering Csesar in: 
 As, by a lower but by loving likelihood, 3 
 Were now the general of our gracious empress* 
 (As, in good time, he may,) from Ireland corning, 
 Bringing rebellion broached 1 on his sword, 
 How many would the peaceful city quit, 
 To welcome him? much more, and much more 
 
 cause, 
 Did they this Harry. Now in London place him ; 
 
 SAs yet the lamentation of the French 
 nvites the king of England's stay at home : 
 The emperor's coining in behalf of France, 
 To order peace between them ; ) and omit 
 All the occurrences, whatever chanc'd, 
 Till Harry's back-return again to France ; 
 There must we bring him; and myself have p'.ay'd 
 The interim, by remembering you 'tis past. 
 Then brook abridgment ; and your eyes advance 
 After your thoughts, straight back again to France. 
 
 [Exit. 
 
 SCENE /.France. Jin English court of guard. 
 Enter Fluellcn and Gower. 
 
 Gow. Nay, that's right ; but why wear you your 
 leek to-day / Saint Davy's day is past. 
 
 Flu. There is occasions and causes whv arid 
 wherefore in all thinrrs : I will tell you, as my friend, 
 captain Gower ; The rascally, scald, beggarly, 
 lousy, pragging knave, Pistol, which you and 
 
 Pist. Not for Cadwallader, and all his goats. 
 
 Flu. There is one goat for you. [S/rifcts Aim.] 
 Will you be so gopt, scald knave, as eat it ? 
 
 Pist. Base Trojan, thou shall die. 
 
 Flu. You say very true, scald knave, when Got's 
 will is : I will desire you to live in the mean time, 
 and eat your victuals ; come, there is sauce for it. 
 [Striking him again.] You called me yesterday, 
 mountain-squire ; but I will make you to-day u 
 squire of low degree. .1 pray you. fall to ; if you 
 can rnock a leek, you can eat a leek. 
 
 Gcw. Enough, captain ; you have astonished' 
 him. 
 
 Flu. I sav, I will malce him eat some part of 
 my leek, or 1 will peat his pate four days: Pile, 
 I pray you ; it is goot for your green wound, and 
 your ploody coxcomb. 
 
 Pist. Must I bite? 
 
 Fiit. Yes, certainly ; and out of doubt, and out 
 of questions too, and ambiguities. 
 
 Pist. By this leek, I will most horribly revenge ; 
 I eat, and eke I swear 
 
 Ftu. Eat, I pray you : Will you have some more 
 sauce to your leek ? there is "not enough leek to 
 swear by. 
 
 Pist. Quiet thy cudgel ; thou dost see, I eat. 
 
 Flu. Much goot do you, scald knave, heartily. 
 Nay, 'pray you, throw none away ; the skin is goot 
 for your proken coxcomb. When you take occa- 
 sions to see leeks hereafter, I pray you, mock at 
 them ; that is all. 
 
 Pist. Good. 
 
 Flu. Ay, leeks is goot: Hold you, there is a 
 groat to heal your pate. 
 
 Pist. Me a groat ! 
 
 Flu. Yes, verily, and in truth, you shall take it ; 
 or I have another leek in my pocket, which you 
 shalj eat. 
 
 Pist. I take thy groat, in earnest of revenge. 
 
 Flu. If I owe you any thing, I will pay you in 
 cudgels ; you shall be a woodmongcr, and buy 
 nothing of me but cudgels. God be wi' you, and 
 
 yourself, and all the 'orld, know to be no petler keep you, and heal your pate. 
 
 than a fellow, look you now, of no merits, he ws 
 come to me, and prings me pread and salt yester- 
 day, look you, and pid me eat my leek: it was in 
 a place where I could not breed no contentions 
 with him ; but I will be so ppld as to wear it in my 
 cap till I see him pnce again, and then I will tell 
 him a little piece of my desires. 
 
 Enter Pistol. 
 
 Cow. Why, here he coaies, swelling like a tur- 
 kev-cock. 
 
 flu. 'Tis no matter for his sweliintrs, nor his 
 turkey-cocks. Got pless you, ancient Pistol ! you 
 scurvy, lousy knave, Got pless you ! 
 
 Pist. Ha ! art thou Bedlam'?, dost thou thirst, 
 
 base Trojan, 
 
 To have me fold up Parca's fatal web ?' 
 Hence ! I am qualmish at the smell of leek. 
 
 Flu. I peseech you heartily, scurvy, lousy knave, 
 at my desires, and mv requests, and my petitions, 
 to eat, look you, this leek : because, look you, you 
 do not love it, nor your fictions, and your appe- 
 tites, and your digestions, does not agree wtyh it, I 
 would desire you to eat it. 
 
 (1) t. e. To order it to be borne. 
 
 (2) Transferring all the honours of conquest from 
 himself to God. 
 
 (3) Similitude. 
 
 (4) The earl of Essex in the reign of Elizabeth. 
 
 [Exit. 
 
 Pist. All hell shall stir for this. 
 
 Gene. Go, go ; you are a counterfeit cowardly 
 knave. Will you mock at an ancient tradition, 
 begun upon an Honourable respect, and worn as 
 a memorable trophy of predeceased valour, and 
 dare not avouch in your deeds any of your words ? 
 I have seen you glecking 8 and galling at this gen- 
 tleman twice or thrice. You thought^ because he 
 could not speak English in the native garb, he 
 could not therefore handle an English cudgel : you 
 find it otherwise ; and, henceforth, let a Welsh cor- 
 rection teach you a 
 yc well. 
 
 Pist. Doth fortune play the huswife 10 with me 
 
 now ? 
 
 News have I, that my Nell is dead i'the spital" 
 Of malady of France ; 
 And there my rendezvous is quite cut off. 
 Old I do wax ; and from my weary limbs 
 Honour is cudgell'd. Well, bawd will I turn. 
 And something lean to cutpurse of quick hand. 
 To England will I steal, and there I'll steal : 
 And patches will I get unto these scars, 
 
 ood English condition. 9 Fare 
 [Exit. 
 
 And swear, I got them in the Gallia wars. 
 
 [Exit. 
 
 (- 
 (I 
 
 5) Spitted, transfixed. 
 
 6) 'Dost thou desire to have me put thee to 
 death ?' 
 
 (7) Stunned. (8) Scoffing, sneering. 
 
 (9) Temper. (10) For <ilt, (11) Hospital,
 
 Scene II. 
 
 KING HENRY V. 
 
 463 
 
 SCEJVJS II. Troves in Champagne. Jin apari-\To swearing, and stern looks, diffus'd* attire 
 ment in the French King's palace. Enter, at And every thing that seems unnatural. 
 
 one door, King Henry, Bedford, Gloster, Exeter, 
 Warwick, Westmoreland, and other lords; at 
 another, the French kinsr, queen Isabel, the prin- 
 
 cess Katharine, lords, ladies, fyc. the duke of Should not expel these inconveniences, 
 
 Which to reduce into our former favour,' 
 You are assembled : and my speech entreats, 
 That I may know the let, 6 why gentle peace 
 
 Burgundy, and his train. 
 
 K. Hen. Peace to this meeting, wherefore we 
 
 are met ! 
 
 Unto our brother France, and to our sister, 
 Health and fair time of day : -joy and good wishes 
 To our most fair and princely cousin Katharine ; 
 And (as a branch and member of this royalty,' 
 By whom this great assembly is contriv'd,) 
 W v e do salute you, duke of Burgundy ; 
 And, princes French, and peers, health to you all ! 
 
 Fi: King. Right joyous are we to behold your 
 
 f;ice, 
 
 Most worthy brother England ; fairly met : 
 So are you princes English, every one. 
 
 Q. ha. So happy be the issue, brother England, 
 Of this good day, and cf this gracious meeting, 
 As we are now glad to behold your eyes ; 
 Your eyes, which hitherto have borne in them 
 Against the French, that met them in their bent, 
 The fatal balls of murdering basilisks; 
 The venom of such looks, we fairly hope, 
 Have lost their quality; and that this day 
 Shall change all griefs, and quarrels, into love. 
 
 A'. Hen. To cry amen to that, thus we appear. 
 
 Q. Isa. You English princes all, I do salute you. 
 
 Bar. My duty to you both, on equal love, 
 Great kings of France and England ! That I have 
 
 labour'd 
 
 With all my wits, my pains, and strong endeavours, 
 To bring your most'imperial majesties 
 Unto this bar 1 and royal interview, 
 Your mightiness on both parts best can witness. 
 Since then my office hath so far prevail'd, 
 That, face to face, and royal eye to eye, 
 You have cont; reeled ; let it not disgrace me, 
 If I demand, before this royal view, 
 What rub, or what impediment, there is, 
 Why (hat the naked, poor, and mangled peace, 
 Dear nurse of arts, plenties, and .joyful births, 
 Should not, in this best garden of the world, 
 Our fertile France, put up her lovely visage? 
 Alas ! she hath from France too long been chas'd 5 
 And all her husbandry doth lie on heaps, 
 Corrupting in its own fertility. 
 Her vine, the merry cheerer of the heart, 
 Unpruned dies : her hedges even-pleached, 
 Like prisoners wildh- over-grown with hair, 
 Put forth disorder'd twigs : her fallow leas 
 The darnel, hemlock, and rank fumitory, 
 Doth root upon ; while that the coulter'- rusts, 
 That should deracinate' such savagerj- : 
 The even mead, that erst brought sweetly forth 
 The freckled cowslip, burnet, and green clover, 
 Wanting the scythe, all unrorrected, rank, 
 Conceives by idleness : and nothing teems, 
 But hateful clocks, rough thistles, kecksies, burs, 
 Losing both beauty and utility. 
 And as our vineyards, fallows, meads, and hedges, 
 Defective in their natures, grow to wildness : 
 Even so our houses, and ourselves, and children, 
 Have lost, or do not learn, for want of time, 
 The sciences that should become our country ; 
 But grow, like savages, as soldiers will, 
 That nothing do but meditate on blood, 
 
 (1) Barrier. (2) Plowshare. 
 
 (3) To deracinate is to force up the roots. 
 
 And bless us with her former qualities. 
 
 K. Hen. If, duke of Burgundy, you would the 
 
 peace, 
 
 Whose want gives growth to the imperfections 
 Which you have cited, you must buy that peace 
 With full accord to all our just demands ; 
 Whose tenors and particular effects 
 You have, enschedul'd briefly, in your hands. 
 
 Bur. The king hath heard them ; to the which, 
 
 as yet, 
 There is no answer made. 
 
 K. Hen. Well then, the peace, 
 
 Which you before so urg'd, lies in his answer. 
 
 Fr. King. I have but with a cursorary eye 
 O'er-glanc'd the articles : pleaseth your grace 
 To appoint some of your council presently 
 To sit with us once more, with better hee'd 
 To re-survey tlum, we will, suddenly, 
 Pass our accept, and peremptory ans'wer. 
 
 K. Hen. Brother, we shall. Go, uncle Exeter, 
 And brother Clarence and you, brother Gloster, 
 Warwick and Huntingdon, go with the king : 
 And take with you free power, to ratify, 
 Augment, or alter, as your wisdoms best 
 Shall see advantageable for our dignity, 
 Any thing in, or out of, our demands ; 
 And we'll consign thereto. Will you, fair sister, 
 Go with the princes, or stay here with us ? 
 
 Q. Isa. Our gracious "brother, I will go with 
 
 them; 
 
 Haply, a woman's voice may do some good, 
 When articles, too nicely urg'd, be stood on. 
 
 K. Hen. Yet leave our cousin Katharine here 
 
 with us ; 
 
 She is our capital demand, compris'd 
 Within the fore-rank of our articles. 
 
 Q. Isa. She hath good leave. [Exeunt all but 
 Henry, Katharine, and her gentlewoman. 
 
 K. Hen. Fair Katharine, and most fair, 
 
 Will you vouchsafe to teach a soldier terms 
 Such as will enter at a lady's ear, 
 And plead his love-suit to her gentle heart ? 
 
 Katlt. Your majesty shall mock at me; I cannot 
 speak your England. 
 
 K. Hen. O fair Katharine, if you will love me 
 soundly with your French heart, I will be glad to 
 hear you confess it brokenly with your English 
 tontrue. Do you like me, Kate ? 
 
 Kath. Purdonntz inoy, I cannot tell vat is like 
 me. 
 
 K. Hen. An angel is like you, Kate ; and you 
 are like an angel. 
 
 Kath. Qwe dil-U 1 que je SUM semblable a Its 
 anses 1 
 
 Alice. Oirj, rrayment (sauf voslre grace) ainsi 
 lit U. 
 
 K. Hen. I said so, dear Katharine ; and I must 
 not blush to a'.Srrn it. 
 
 Kath. O bon Dim ! les Ian guts des hommes sont 
 pleines des tromperics. 
 
 K. Hen. What says rhe, fair one? that the 
 tongues of men are full of deceits? 
 
 Alice. Of/i/ ; dat de tongues of de mans is be 
 full of deceits : dat is de princess. 
 
 K. Htn. The princess is the better English 
 
 Extravagant. 
 6) Hinderance. 
 
 (5) Appearance,
 
 464 
 
 KING HENRY V. 
 
 v. 
 
 woman. I'faith, Kate, my wooing is fit for thy un-j shall never move thee in French, unless it be to 
 
 derstandiug : I am glad, thou canst speak no bet-, laugh at me. 
 
 ter English ; for, if thou eouldst, tl 
 
 me such a plain king, that thou 
 
 had sold my farm to buy my crown. 
 
 ways to mince it in love, but directly to say I love ing of my tongue, and I thine, most truly" falsely, 
 
 you : then, if you urge me further than to say must needs be granted to be much at one. But. 
 
 Do you in faith? I wear out my suit. Give me 1 Kate, dost thou understand thus much English/ 
 
 your answer ; i'faith, do ; and so clap hands and a Canst thou love me ? 
 
 bargain : How say you, lady ? j Kath. I cannot tell. 
 
 Kath. Saufvostre lionnenr, me understand well. | A'. Hen. Can any of your neighbours tell, Kate? 
 
 K. Hen. Marry, if you would put me to verses, 'I'll ask them. Come, I know, thou lovest me : and 
 or to dance for your sake, Kate, why you undid me: at night when you come into your closet, you'll 
 for the one, I have neither words nor measure ; and question this gentlewoman about me ; and I know, 
 for the other, I have no strength in measure, 1 yet a | Kate, you will, to her, dispraise those parts in me, 
 reasonable measure in strength. If I could win a thul you love %vilh your heart: but, good Kate, mock 
 lady at leap-frog, or by vaulting into my saddle me mercifully ; the rather, gentle princess, because 
 with my armour^on my back, under the correction I love thee cruelly. If ever thou be'st mine, Kate, 
 of bragging be it spoken, I should quickly leap into; (as I have a saving faith within me, tells me, thou 
 awife. Or, if I might bullet for my love, or bound shalt,) I get thee with scambling, and thou must 
 my horse for her favours, I could lay on like a, therefore needs prove a good soldier-breeder: Shall 
 butcher, and sit like a jack-an-apes, never off: but, not thou and I, between Saint Dennis and Saint 
 before God, I cannot look greenly, 1 ' nor gasp out George, compound a boy, half French, half English, 
 my eloquence, nor I have no cunning in pro testa-! that shall go to Constantinople, and take the Turk 
 tion; only doivnright oaths, which I never use till by the beard? shall we not? what sayest thou, 
 urged, nor never break for urging. If thou canst flower-de-luce? 
 love a fellow of this temper, Kate, whose face is not Kath. I do not know dat. 
 
 worth sun-burning, that never looks in his glass for j A". Hen. No ; 'tis hereafter to know, but now to 
 love of any tiling he sees there, let thine eye be thy, promise: do but now promise, Kate, you will endea- 
 cook. I speak to thee plain soldier : If thou canst vour for your French part of such a boy ; and, for 
 love me for this, take me : if not, tq say to thee that my English inoiely, take the word of a King, and a 
 I shall die, is true ; but for thy love, by the Lord, j bachelor. How answer you, la plus belle Katka- 
 no ; yet I love thee too. And while thou livest, dear fine du monde, mon Ires chere et divine deesse 1 
 Kate, take a fellow of plain and uncoined 3 con- Kath. Your majeste 'ave faiisse French enough 
 
 nelves out again. What ! a speaker is but a prater ; 'my blood begins to flatter me that thou dost, not- 
 a rhyme is but a ballad. A good leg will fail; 4 aiwithstanding the poor and untempering effect of my 
 straight back will stoop; a black beard- will turn visage. 5 Now beshrew my father's ambition! he 
 white ; a curled pate will grow bald ; a fair face was thinking of civil wars when he got me ; there- 
 will wither ; a full eye will wax hollow ; but a good fore was I created with a stubborn outside, with an 
 heart, Kate, is the sun and moon; or, rather, the j aspect of iron, that, when I come lo woo ladies, I 
 sun, and not the moon ; for it shines bright, andifright them. But, in faith, Kate, the elder I wax, 
 never changes, but keeps his course truly. If thou the better I shall appear : my comfort is, that old 
 would have such a one, take me: And take mc.lage, that ill-layer up of beauty, can do no more 
 take a soldier ; take a soldier, take a king: And spoil upon my face: thou hast me, if thou hast me, 
 
 what sayest thou then to my love ? speak, my fair, 
 and fairly, I pray thee. 
 
 Kath. Is it possible dat I should love de enemy 
 of France ? 
 
 K. Hen. No ; it is not possiblej yon should love 
 the enemy of France, Kate : but, in loving me, you 
 should love the friend of France ; for I love France 
 so well, that I will not part with a village of it ; I 
 
 at the worst ; and thou shalt wear me, if thou wear 
 me, better and better ; And therefore tell me, most 
 fair Katharine, will you have me ? Put on your 
 maiden blushes ; avouch the thoughts of your Heart 
 with the looks of an empress ; take me by the hand, 
 and say Harry of England, I am thine: which 
 word thou shalt no sooner bless mine ear, withal, 
 but I will tell thee aloud England is thine, Ire- 
 
 will have it all mine: and, Kate, when France isjland is thine, France is thine, and Henry Plantage- 
 mine, and I am yours, then yours is France, and net is thine ; who, though I speak it before his face, 
 you are mine. if he be not fellow with the best king, thou shalt 
 
 Kath. I cannot tell vat is dat. find the best king of good fellows. "Come, your 
 
 K. Hen. No, Kate ? I will tell thee in French ; answer in broken music : for thy voice is music. 
 
 which, I am sure, will hang upon my tongue like 
 new-married wife about hi/r husband's neck, 
 
 hardly to be shook off. Quandfay la possession\\\i\l thou have me? 
 
 and thy English broken : therefore, queen of all, 
 Katharine, break thy mind to me in broken English) 
 
 de France, et quand volts avtz In possession de 
 moi, (let me see, what then ? Saint Dennis be my 
 speed!) done vostre est France, et rows estes 
 mienne. It is as easy for me, Kate, to conquer the 
 kingdom, as to speak so much more French: I 
 
 (1) In dancing. 
 
 (21 1. e. Like a young lover, awkwardly. 
 (3) He means, resembling a plain piece of metal, 
 Which has not yet received any impression. 
 
 Kalh. Dat is, as it shall please de row mon pere. 
 
 K. Hen. Nay, it will please him well, Kate ; it 
 shall please him, Kate. 
 
 Kath. Den it shall also content me. 
 
 K. Hen. Upon that I will kiss your hand, and I 
 call you my queen. 
 
 (4) Fall away. 
 
 (5) f. e. Though my face has no power to soften 
 you.
 
 KING HENRY V. 4K5 
 
 Kath. Lattset, mo* e4gneur, Uiisst:, loissts:\a. fair French city, for one fair French maid that 
 '?, Je nt veux point que vous obbaissez vpslre stands in my way. 
 
 Fr. King. Yes, my lord, you see them perspec- 
 tively, the cities turned into a maid ; for they are 
 all girdled with maiden walls, that war hath never 
 entered. 
 
 K. Hen. Shall Kate be my wife ? 
 
 JFV. King. So please you. 
 
 A*. lien. I am content ; so the maiden cities you 
 talk of, may wait on her : so the maid, that stood 
 in the way of my wish, shall show me the way to 
 my will. 
 
 Fr. King. We have consented to all terms of 
 reason. 
 
 K. Hen. Is't so, my lords of England ? 
 
 West. The king hath granted every article : 
 His daughter, first ; and then, in sequel, all, 
 According to their firm proposed natures. 
 
 Exe. Only, he hath not yet subscribed this : 
 Where your majesty demands That the king of 
 France, having any occasion to write for matter of 
 grant, shall name your highness in this form, and 
 with this addition, in French, Jfolre tres cher 
 fUz Henry, rmj d'Jlngleterre, herelier dt France ; 
 and thus in Latin, Praclarissimu* filius nosier 
 Henriciis, rc.r .Inglitr, el ha.-es Frnncia. 
 
 grandeur, en baisant la main d'une vostre indigne 
 terviteure ; excuses may, je veus supplie, man tres 
 puissant seigneur. 
 
 K. Hen. Then I will kiss your lips, Kate. 
 
 Kath. Les dames, et dmnoiselles, pour estre 
 baistes devant leur nopces, U n'e.vt past It cotiiume 
 Je France. 
 
 K. Hen. Madam, my interpreter, what says slle? 
 
 ,'llice. Dat it is not be de fashion pour ten ladies 
 f France, I cannot tell what is baiser, en English. 
 
 K. Hen. To kiss. 
 
 .Ilice. Your majesty enltndre bettre qut mm/. 
 
 K. Hen. It is not the fashion for the maids in 
 France to kiss before they are married, would she 
 say? 
 
 Alice. Owi, vraymtnt. 
 
 K. Hen. 0, Kate, nice customs curt'sy to great 
 kings. Dear Kate, you and I cannot be confined 
 within the weak list 1 of a country's fashion : we are 
 the makers of manners, Kate ; and the liberty that 
 follows our places, stops the mouths of all find- 
 faults ; as I will do yours, for upholding the nice 
 fashion of your country, in denying me a kiss : 
 therefore, patiently, and yielding. [Kissing her.] 
 You have witchcraft in your lips, Kate : there is 
 more eloquence in a sugar touch of them, than in 
 the tongues of the French council ; and they should! 
 sooner persuade Harry of England, than a general 
 petition of monarch*. Here conies your father. 
 
 Enter the French King and Queen, Burgundy, 
 Bedford, Gloster. Exeter, Westmoreland 
 other French ana English 
 
 Bur. God save your majesty ! my royal cousin, 
 teach you our princess English? 
 
 K. Hen. I would have her learn, my fair cousin, 
 how perfectly I love her ; and that is good English. 
 
 Bur. Is she not apt ? 
 
 K. Hen. Our tongue is rough, coz ; and my con- 
 dition* is not smooth : so that, having neither the 
 roice nor the heart of flattery about me, I cannot 
 so conjure up the npirit of love in her, that he will 
 appear in his true likeness. 
 
 Bur. Pardon the frankness of my mirth, if I an- 
 swer you for that. If you would coniure in her, 
 you must make a circle : if conjure up love in her, 
 in his true likeness, he must appear naked, and 
 blind : Can you blame her then, being a maid yet 
 
 rosed orer with the virgin crimson of modesty, if So be there 'twixt your kingdoms such a spousal, 
 
 she deny the appearance of a naked blind boy in 
 
 en, . .gtr, e a.-es nn. 
 
 Fr. King. Nor this I have not, brother, so denied 
 But your request shall make me let it pass. 
 
 A'. Hen. I pray you then, in love and dear 
 
 alliance, 
 
 Let that one article rank with the rest : 
 And, thereupon, ifive me your daughter. 
 
 Fr. King. Take her, fair son ; and from her 
 
 blood raise up 
 
 Issue to me : that the contending kingdoms 
 Of France and England, whose very shores look 
 
 pale 
 
 With envy of each other's happiness, 
 May cease their hatred ; and this dear conjunction 
 Plant neighbourhood and christian-like accord 
 In their sweet bosoms, that never war advance 
 His bleeding sword 'twixt England and fair France. 
 
 .lit. Amen ! 
 
 K. Hen. Now welcome, Kate : and bear me 
 
 witness all, 
 That here I kiss her as mv sovereign qu*en. 
 
 [Flourish. 
 
 Q. Isa. God, the best maker of all marriages, 
 Combine your hearts in one, your realms in one '. 
 As man and wife, being two, are one in love, 
 
 That never may ill olfice, or fell jealousy, 
 
 her naked seeing self ? It were, my lord, a hard i Which troubles oft the bed of blessed marriage, 
 condition for a maid to consign to. 'Thrust in between the paction of these kingdoms, 
 
 K. Hen. Yet they do wink, and yield ; as love | To make divorce of their incorporate league ; 
 
 is blind, and enforce?. 
 
 Bur. They are then excused, my lord, when they 
 Me not what they do. 
 
 K. Hen. Then, good my lord, teach your cousin 
 to consent to winkin 
 
 Bur. I will wink on her to consent, my lord, if! My lord of Burgundy, we'll lake your oath, 
 
 That En;. 
 Receive e 
 
 ;lish may as French, French Englishmen, 
 ach other ! God speak this Amen ! 
 Jill. Amen ! 
 
 A'. Hen. Prepare we for our marriage : on 
 which day, 
 
 you will teach her to know my meaning : for maids, 
 well summered and warm kept, are like flies at Bar- 
 tholomew-tide, blind, though they have their eyes ; 
 and then they will endure handling, which before 
 would not abide looking on. 
 
 K . Hen. This moral' ties me over to time, and a j 
 hot summer ; and 
 cousin, in the latter end, 
 
 Bur. As love is, my lord, before it loves. 
 
 K. Hen. It is so : and you may, some of you, 
 <t- nk love for my blindness ; who cannot sec many 
 
 And all the peers', for surety of our leagues. 
 Then shall I swear to Katc,"and you to me ; 
 And may our oaths well kept and prosp'rous be ! 
 
 . [Exeunt. 
 Enter Chorus. 
 
 o I will catch the fly, yourlThus fur, with rough, and all unable pen, 
 sd, and she must be blind too. Our bending 4 author hath pursu'd the 
 
 (1) Bfiybt barrier. 
 
 (2) Temper. 
 
 lory ; 
 
 In little room confining misrhty men, 
 Mangling by starts the lull course of their glory. 
 
 (3} Application. 
 
 (4) t. e. Unequal to the weight of the subject 
 3 Fi
 
 406 
 
 K1JNG HENKY V. 
 
 Small time, but, in that small, most greatly liv'd, 
 
 This star of England : fortune made his sword ; 
 By which the world's best garden 1 he achicv'd, 
 
 And of it left his son imperial lord. 
 Henry the Sixth, in infant bands crown'd king 
 
 Of France and England, did this king succeed ; 
 Whose state so many had the managing, 
 
 That they lost France, and made his England 
 
 bleed : 
 
 Which oft our stage hath shown ; and, for their sake, 
 In your fair minds let this acceptance take. [Exit. 
 
 This play has many scenes of high dignity, and 
 many of easy merriment. The character of the 
 
 (1) France. 
 
 king is well supported, except in his courtship, 
 where he has neither the vivacity of Hal, nor ihe 
 grandeur of Henry. The humour of Pistol is very 
 happily continued : his character has perhaps been 
 the model of all the bullies that have yet appeared 
 on the English stage. 
 
 The lines given to the Chorus have many ad- 
 mirers ; but the truth is, that in them a little may 
 be praised, and much must be forgiven ; nor can 
 it be easily discovered, why the intelligence given 
 by the Chorus is more necessary in this play, than 
 in many others where it is omitted. The great 
 defect of this play is, the emptiness and narrow- 
 ness of the last act, which a very little diligence 
 might have easily avoided. 
 
 JOHNSON. 

 

 
 '>
 
 University of California 
 
 SOUTHERN REGIONAL LIBRARY FACILITY 
 
 405 Hilgard Avenue, Los Angeles, CA 90024-1388 
 
 Return this material to the library 
 
 from which it was borrowed.